Modern Romance November Books 5-8. Annie West

from New York? Old fears started to creep in. Could Lola have...?

      No. He thought of the emotion shining in his wife’s hazel eyes when she told him she loved him. Lola would never cheat on him. He trusted her, as he trusted no one else.

      “Let the man stay. I don’t care,” he said suddenly. He turned away. “I need to find my wife—”

      “That’s just it, sir.” Marnie stopped him with her solemn, owl-like gaze. “I’m trying to tell you. Mr. Morozov is here. He’s with Mrs. Cabrera.” She hesitated, then said, “They’re together.”

      Rodrigo frowned, unable to make sense of his assistant’s words. “Together?”

      She bit her lip. “In the back garden. I saw them. Kissing—”

      Marnie kept talking, but suddenly Rodrigo couldn’t hear her.

      As he looked around the foyer, all the people talking and laughing and drinking champagne suddenly seemed like mere noise to Rodrigo, just smudges of color.

      He had no memory of how he walked through the crowds to the French doors overlooking the terrace. He’d only remember the feeling of wading through air like water, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

      Outside in the cold air, he heard his assistant behind him as he walked across the Spanish terrace, looking out into the manicured tropical gardens, lush beneath the moonlight.

      But he saw nothing. No one.

      Waves of relief went over him. There was no one here. Reason returned to his brain and he started to turn back to Marnie. “You were mistaken—”

      Then he saw a gleam of pink chiffon from the corner of his eye. A flash of Lola’s long blond hair.

      And Rodrigo saw, in the shadows on the other side of the terrace, the sickening sight of another man embracing his wife.

      “Do not worry, zvezda moya,” he heard the Russian croon, holding Lola tenderly in his arms. “You are safe now. With me.”