When the car pulled up to the house, the front door was already open. Warm light spilled out onto the steps. Lucy stepped out, lifting her head high, forcing herself to look strong.
But as she entered the grand hall, she froze.
Barry was there. Leaning against the banister, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, dark eyes locked on her the second she walked in. His face was unreadable. Cold. Like always.
She swallowed hard. “You’re still up,” she said, her voice soft.
“I was waiting,” Barry said, pushing off the banister and walking toward her slow, like a predator. His steps echoed in the quiet house. “You’re late.”
“I… the club...” Lucy started, but stopped when she saw the sharp glint in his eyes.
Barry stopped in front of her, so close she could smell the faint scent of his cologne,
