Page 51 of The Billionaire's Wife

“But—” Manny snapped his mouth shut at the look Marcos sent.

“If we know where your loyalties lie, we won’t feel the need to chase you. You have to know hiding can’t last forever.” Marcos spread his hands on the table. “We found you here, after all.”

“For how long?” I leaned forward slightly.

Marcos tipped his head to the side. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“How long would she have to work for you?”

Under the table, Faith reached over and took my hand. Her fingers might as well have been made of ice. I gave them a light squeeze.

“Indefinitely.” His tone implied the “of course” that he didn’t bother to say.

“That’s unacceptable. Thank you for your time.” I scooted my chair back slightly.

“Interesting.” Marcos gestured for me to sit. “I don’t think you’re unintelligent. You know who I am. What our family represents. But you’d negotiate?”

I eased back into my chair. “For Faith? I would. Yes.”

His eyebrows knit together. “You’ve known her a week. Maybe two? This seems unwise.”

My thoughts raced. Maybe Faith and I should have talked about this ahead of time, but it was too late now. If she wanted our marriage kept secret…well, it was too bad. “That’s inaccurate.”

Marcos scowled at Manny and he rattled off something in gruff Spanish.

Manny replied.

The two of them spoke back and forth for what felt like several minutes, but was probably nowhere near that long. It didn’t seem like the right time to check. Finally, Manny made a disgusted sound and stomped out of the private dining area, the curtains swinging behind him.

“My apologies.” Marcos tented his fingers on the table. “Explain to me your relationship.”

Faith’s fingers tightened around mine.

“We’ve been married for fourteen years.” The truth slipped out before I’d decided how much—if any—to hedge.

“But—” He looked at Faith. “You are separated?”

“We were?” Faith’s voice went up, indecision obvious on her face. She cleared her throat. “It’s complicated.”

“The best relationships are. Tell me. From the start.” Marcos leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on Faith.

I would have loved to have stepped in and done the talking, but it was clear—to me at least—that this was something she would have to do. I squeezed her hands, hoping it was encouraging. And then I started to pray.

14

FAITH

“You didn’t have to take the day off.” I brought my coffee over to the living room and hesitated a moment before joining Tristan on the couch. There was still a cushion between us, but sitting in a chair across from him felt too far away.

He glanced up from his phone and shrugged. “I don’t have a lot on the books today. It’s easy enough to take the day while we wait for Mr. Ortega to verify our story.”

I wrapped both hands around my mug, letting the warmth seep into them. “I don’t understand why he feels like he needs to do that. Is he really considering dropping it?”

Tristan shrugged. “It sounded like that was a possibility. But I agree it seems far-fetched. I texted Special Agent Orbison to see if he had any insight.”

I nodded and sipped the coffee.

“Would you like to go do something?”

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