He Tried to Humiliate Me at the Wedding Table

where she was.

I threw the paper towel away.

“Monday at nine,” I said.

She stiffened.

“I don’t work for you.”

“No. But your husband does.”

Then I left her in the bathroom with the brass fixtures and the roses printed on the wallpaper and whatever version of herself she preferred in mirrors.

Out in the hall, Hartley was waiting.

Of course he was.

He kept his continue reading …