“I went to my room, but you were gone. How are you this morning?”

Her fingers tightened on the towel. What was he really asking? If she understood that he didn’t love her, didn’t care about her, that it was still just about sex? Or did he really want to know how she felt this morning? All the progress they’d made over the last few weeks, all the closeness had fallen away, and she was back to square one. A fuck toy.

She shrugged. “Fine.” Her eyes rose to meet his.

“Good.”

They stood in silence for some moments. “I’m going to get a shower,” she said, biting her lip to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“Yes, of course. I’ll get out of your way.” He was acting weird and formal.

When he left, she sank to the cold, tiled floor and sobbed. She cried until she didn’t have any tears left, then attempted to pull herself together.

After she’d showered and dressed, Allie crept downstairs, hoping like hell she didn’t run into Trevor again. She couldn’t handle the awkward tension between them. And she was determined not to fall apart in front of him.

Once she was in the foyer, she heard voices raised in the drawing room. Allie ran toward the commotion and met Frances running through the hall from the opposite direction. Together, they stood in the doorway and watched Mags storm around the room.

“I can’t believe you, Nigel. You are unbelievable.” There were no darlings, dearests, or sweets to punctuate her sentence. She must really be angry. And she was repeating herself.

“Darling, I don’t see what the problem is.” Nigel stood next to the drinks cart, a quizzical look on his face. He watched her roam about the room.

Mags, her agitation growing by the minute, began walking faster and waved her hands over her head, like Mussolini. “Of course you don’t, you stupid git.”

“Watch yourself, love.” He wagged a finger.

Mags threw her head back and laughed. “Watch myself. You should watch yourself, you bastard.”

“I’ll not put up with your name calling, my dear.” Nigel crossed his arms, and his face took on the same cold, expressionless mask that Trevor assumed when he became angry.

“I’m not your dear. How dare you invite that woman to my wedding?”

“We’re mates now, love, that’s all.” Nigel held up his hands in a pleading gesture. “Please be reasonable about this.”

All of the fire seeped out of her and her body, rigid with anger a moment before, became relaxed. “Reasonable?” She raised a brow. “How’s this for reasonable?” She picked up a small bronze statue of a goddess and hurled it at Nigel’s head.

He shifted to the side, narrowly escaping the projectile. “Now, Mags, that was Aphrodite. Not the thing, ducks.”

She gave him a scary smile. “You’re right, darling, I’m sorry.”

“I should say so.” Nigel dusted his shoulder. “Don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

“All the old jealousies are in the past,” she practically cooed.

Nigel smiled. “Quite right.”

“So if you invite Rebecca, I should invite Miguel. He and I are still on the best of terms. How very modern of you, darling.”

“What did you say?” The smile turned to a scowl in the blink of an eye. “You will do absolutely no such thing. I forbid it.”

“Oh no, we’re in for it now,” Frances whispered in Allie’s ear.

Allie turned back and looked at the maid. “What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Mags just brought up Miguel. That’s like waving a red flag at a bull, it is.”

“You forbid me?”

Allie turned back in time to see Mags lift her chin to the ceiling. “You don’t own me, Nigel Blake. I’ll do whatever I please.”

He strode across the room and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You will not mention that man’s name in my presence, Margaret, do you understand?”

She broke free of his hold. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.”

“You are living very dangerously, woman.” Nigel’s face turned purple. Allie was afraid he might stroke out.

“And while I’m at it, I may invite Francois. He asked me to move back to France just last month, you know.”

“Fine,” Nigel ground out, “then I’ll ask Tanya. She got her boobs redone. She’d love to show them off at a wedding.”

One of Mags’s eyes narrowed, making her look slightly cockeyed. She strolled across the room, picked up a bottle of gin, and threw it at him. “You are disgusting.” The bottle hit the wall. The strong-smelling liquor made a stain on the pale blue paint, and glass tinkled to the floor.

“That was a new bottle.”

“Well, this one’s not.” She chucked whiskey at his head. She wasn’t even in the ballpark.

“You’re aim isn’t what it used to be, dear,” he said in a bored voice.

“I guess I’m out of practice.” She picked up a white vase with hand-painted flowers and held it over her head with both hands.

Allie felt hands on her hips and was lifted to one side. Trevor took two steps into the room and grabbed the vase from Mags’s hands before she could hurl it at Nigel. “If you’re going to give him a concussion, I must insist you destroy your own property to do so.”

Mags’s lips thinned in a straight line. “Your father wants to invite his second wife to my wedding. What do you think about that, Trevor?” Her eyes never left Nigel and his red face.

“I don’t care whom you invite. I don’t care if you get married at all. But if you break one more thing in this house, I’ll toss you both out on your asses.” He turned and left the room.

Allie gave Nigel and Mags one last look before trailing after him. “Trevor.”

He stopped and glared at her. “What do you want?”

She flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He rubbed his forehead. “Apologies, Allison, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Those two drive me barmy.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “What can I do for you?”

For some reason, his formal question hurt more than his harsh words. She shook her head. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Bitterness tinged his laughter. “I’m brilliant.” He pivoted and went back toward his office.

Allie stood in the hallway, feeling bereft. She loved him so much, she ached with it. She knew he was going to cut her loose. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to survive.

As she lingered in the hallway, Mags pushed by her with a sob.

***

That night, dinner was painful and the arctic atmosphere made Allie shiver. No one said much of anything. Trevor was withdrawn and quiet. Mags and Nigel were frigidly polite to one another.

After dinner, Trevor retreated to his office. Allie knew he didn’t want to be disturbed, so she hit the media room, curling up on the couch beneath the cashmere blanket, and watched TV for a few hours. As she sat, her mind drifted. What would it have been like to hear her parents fight like that? Trevor must have been a confused little boy, new people entering his life and leaving it just as quickly.

Finally, exhausted at nine-thirty, she hit the power button on the controller. But instead of going to her own room, she went to Trevor’s. The angels stood guard as she shimmied out of all her clothes and curled up under the sheets. She pulled Trevor’s pillow close, inhaling his scent. Despite the pain of his callous treatment earlier, she wanted to comfort him, soothe him. She knew he was hurting. The little boy in him never got over his parents’ abandonment or their manic relationship.

She woke when the bed dipped and felt Trevor try to gently pry the pillow out of her hands. She rubbed at her eyes and looked at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s after midnight. Have you been working all this time?”

He plumped the pillow and crawled into bed, curling himself around her. “Yes. And I’m sorry I was abrupt earlier.”

“It’s okay.” She stroked the arm wrapped around her waist. “They still love each other, you know, even when they fight.”

“Shhh,” he said against her hair. “Go back to sleep.”