flowers have been left at my dad’s house where I’m staying.”
“If Mr. Marshall increases contact in any way, we’re here for you. We want you to go about your daily routine for now.” Bruce fished a card from his pocket. “Program my cell number and the agency’s into your phone. Do you have any questions?”
“No,” she said softly, feeling drained.
“My advice for now? Since the floral arrangement came today, you shouldn’t be at Dash’s house in the near future or see him anywhere that’s not on the studio lot. I know you’d broken ties with him except at work. For now, please stick to that.”
Bruce stood. “My group started conducting our own investigation of Wake Marshall today. We’ll see where he is and if he’s been out of town lately, especially if he’s made any trips to LA.”
Sydney took a deep breath and pushed herself up on wobbly legs. She offered her hand. “Thank you, Bruce.” She glanced around the room. “Thanks to all of you.”
“Rhett has arranged passes so that my team can get through the Sampson Studios gates. We’ll have a small presence there but Mr. Marshall or anyone he’s hired shouldn’t be able to have access to you on the lot,” Bruce told her. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through such a difficult time. Hopefully, it won’t be for much longer.”
Bruce left and the Camerons also said it was time for them to get home. Both Corrigans walked them out, leaving Sydney alone with Dash.
“I guess we’ve got a little privacy to say goodbye.”
“Goodnight,” he corrected. “This isn’t goodbye, Sydney.”
“So much for a romantic thirtieth birthday for us,” she joked but her throat grew thick with emotion.
Dash tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His palm cradled her cheek. Sydney gave in to the moment and closed her eyes. She wished she could stay like this with him forever as he gave her a sweet, comforting kiss.
“Where should we spend our next birthday?” he asked suddenly.
Sydney opened her eyes. “Anywhere. As long as we’re together—and you promise to make love to me all night long.”
He smiled. “How about Paris? I’ve heard it’s pretty romantic. The City of Lights.”
“You’re on. Paris, it is.”
Dash kissed her again to seal the deal.
◆◆◆
Wake waited two blocks from Sydney’s house. Or at least the address Marker had given him a few months ago. The PI was no longer in the picture since Wake couldn’t pay him anymore.
Everything had fallen apart. It had started when Sydney left him. No woman could replace her and Wake had definitely tried to. Everyone from interns in his law office to a couple of women in his apartment building to trying out various hookers—but no one held a candle to his wife. Sydney had a sweetness and innocence about her that he yearned for.
When other women hadn’t worked, he’d tried drinking. Then gambling. The lethal combination had gotten him into hot water professionally and personally. He’d come into work hungover a few times and received a written reprimand from the managing partner. Then he’d missed a vital piece in a contract three months ago, which had cost his client millions. The client demanded that Wake be fired from the firm and the partners were only too willing to wash their hands of him. Word got out fast. The law community was incestuous. No corporate law office in Manhattan would hire him so he tried the smaller offices. Those also proved to be a bust.
Finally, in desperation, he tried the DA’s office. Even they turned him down. He didn’t have the resources to start his own office and wouldn’t have wanted to work that hard to make a go of it even if he hadn’t lost what remained of his money in Atlantic City. Then his mother had a brain aneurysm. She clung to life for half a dozen hours, long enough to run up medical bills in the six figures from both the hospital and a plethora of doctors. She rented her tony townhouse, as he did his New York apartment, so he had no real estate to sell between them. By the time he settled her estate, he was far down the rabbit hole.
The final straw had been when he’d broken a tooth chomping down on a popcorn kernel while sitting in a porn theater. The pain hadn’t been the worst of it. Wake had to resort to going to a third-rate dental school, where a student under a professor’s direction would saw off