“Just how disgustingly low can you get, Adam?” I rage, my feet lunging toward him.

“Any level you want, Hermione.” He stands, straightening himself like this is a normal routine for him.

“What the hell was that?”

“Why would you show up in my meeting, parade yourself as one of my investors, and then tell the whole room I’m your wife? What the hell do you want to achieve, Adam?”

“Because you are my wife,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets, his smile ...