Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Three by Lydia Rowan Page B

though. There was a mere crack, and from his vantage, he could see Ethan lying on her bed, but Quinn was nowhere to be seen.
    “Down here, Alexander,” she said with exasperation.
    Looking down and to the left, he saw her there, huddled against the door frame as if it were holding her up. Her knees were lifted toward her chest, arms resting primly on top of them. To the untrained eye, she looked serene, but Alexander knew better, knew that the tight bunching of her shoulders, the way she tapped her left foot, and most especially the way she chewed her bottom lip were all signs that Quinn was on the verge. Whether she’d collapse into herself as she had downstairs, or explode like a supernova, he didn’t know. But he needed to act.
    He sat down on the opposite side of the door frame, Quinn visible in his peripheral vision and he in hers he presumed, and waited. He wasn’t intentionally stalling, or at least he didn’t think he was, but there was something hypnotic about sitting there silent, each soaking up the presence of the other.
    Or maybe it was just the calm before the storm.
    In either case, Alexander was reluctant to break the quiet, but it couldn’t be helped.
    “Quinn, I…”
    “How long have you been married to…her?” She spit out the last word with scorn.
    He paused for a split second before he spoke, knowing the havoc he would wreak, powerless to avoid it.
    “Fourteen years. We married when I was twenty-three, toward the end of university,” he said, looking over at Quinn, who refused to return his gaze.
    “How lovely. A rare testament to fidelity and enduring love. Most marriages don’t even last half that long. Congratulations on beating the odds.”
    Each word was a dagger tipped in scorn and tossed with the express purpose of wounding him. Based on the sharp sting in his chest and the hot flush of shame that rushed over him, they were having their intended effect.
    Still, he fought on. “Quinn, it’s not like that. It never was.”
    She turned her head quickly, eyes wide. “What’s it like, then? I’m so intrigued to hear how your relentless cheating on your wife of fifteen years is so different, how turning me into your… mistress , your whore, was something you absolutely had to do. Please try and justify that.”
    Anger clapped through him with a flash, and the threads of his self-control started to unravel, but he held it together long enough to whisper, “You were never that, Quinn. Not ever.”
    Still, she looked at him with such scorn, such burning fury, that he wanted to scream until she understood, shake the rafters down until she listened. But after a quick glance at Ethan, some of the anger that crawled along his skin like an electric shock dissipated.
    “No. This isn’t about him, so don’t you dare try to use him.”
    His control snapped. “Use him? You’re a fine one to talk. And how dare you sit on your high horse and judge me? You wronged me, too, Quinn,” he said, voice full of repressed anger demanding to come out.
    “I guess we’re even now,” she said as she looked away, the defeated certainty in her voice making his blood run cold.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Alexander hadn’t asked where his parents were staying, but then again, he hadn’t needed to. He was certain their assistant had booked the most expensive hotel in nearby Charlotte. “Most expensive” being equivalent to “best” in his mother’s mind, to make no mention of Magda. So that was where he headed, hoping that the trip would clear his mind but doubtful that would happen.
    As he drove, he couldn’t get Quinn’s face out of his mind. That image, the pain, the shock, the horror, and finally the resignation that he’d seen there, was seared into his soul and would be for the rest of his life.
    “Agh!” he screamed his frustration and punched the steering wheel when he stopped at a red light. The stares of curious onlookers in surrounding cars fell on him, but he didn’t care. His life, or