Chapter 2 Evening, Mrs. Foster

(Sienna's POV)

Underneath the divorce agreement was another document: the report a private investigator had handed me two months earlier.

Lana Hayes, 23. Dropped out of a nursing program. Grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania. Parents work odd jobs in New York. Younger brother is deep in gambling debt, and collectors turn up at the door every few days.

The first time I read that report, I went over it again and again all night. In looks, figure, education, and family background, Lana couldn't measure up to me. I couldn't understand what Damian saw in her.

Was it those hands?

Or had he simply gotten bored after 15 years?

By the time Damian came back, I was sitting on the couch as if I'd never left the living room. He was still smiling as he slipped his phone into his inside jacket pocket. He sounded a little sorry. "Sienna, I have to head out for a bit."

Martha came out with the honey tea. "This late, Mr. Foster? Is it work?"

"Yeah," Damian said quietly. "Someone very important wants to take me to dinner."

Someone very important.

I turned the words over in my head one more time.

He bent down and kissed my forehead. "Get some sleep. Don't wait up."

The car was gone in no time. Martha handed me the cup. "Drink it while it's hot, Mrs. Foster. Mr. Foster asked me to make it just for you."

"It's too hot. I'll let it cool for a bit. You go get some rest."

"Make sure you drink it, then."

The moment Martha was gone, I poured the whole cup down the sink, put on sunglasses and a face mask, and went out. I flagged down a cab at the curb. "Follow that black Range Rover."

Half an hour later, the Range Rover pulled up in front of an old apartment building in the Bronx. A few minutes after that, a slim figure ran down the steps and slid into the passenger seat like she'd done it 100 times.

Those pale hands wrapped around Damian's neck as she tipped her face up to kiss him. Damian cupped the back of her head and kissed her deeply.

I watched through the window, my nails digging into my palms. I'd known for months. But seeing it with my own eyes still left me frozen.

The driver looked back at me. "Ma'am, they're pulling out. You still want me to follow?"

I snapped out of it. "Follow them."

Ten minutes later, they walked into an upscale private club. Lana hung on Damian's arm the whole way, chattering nonstop.

At the door of a private room, a few men who'd been waiting came out to meet them. "Boss!" they called to Damian. Then they winked at Lana. "Evening, Mrs. Foster."

Lana blushed and gave Damian a little shove. "They're doing it again."

Damian didn't correct them. He just smiled and ruffled her hair.

I stood around the corner of the hallway, cold all over.

Lana peeked into the room and looked a little flustered. "I thought dinner was on me? I can't afford a place like this."

"So where were you going to take me?" Damian looked down at her. "The hot dog stand on the corner?"

"Hot dogs are great! I could buy you hot dogs all the way down the block!"

"And then I'd be throwing up from midnight till the next afternoon."

Lana stuck her tongue out at him. "Who knew you had such a delicate stomach? I eat them every day and I'm fine."

One of the men roared with laughter. "Boss, where'd you find a girl who knows how to stretch a dollar like this? She beats the one who swipes your card for jewelry every day."

Damian didn't argue. He put an arm around Lana and steered her into the room.

I stayed where I was. So to his friends, and to him, Lana was the sweet, sensible girl, and I, his wife, was the spoiled woman who did nothing but spend his money.

I got home at two in the morning. I booked a FedEx pickup for first thing in the morning, showered, and fell right asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, Damian had his back to me, buttoning his shirt.

I froze. "You... came home last night?"

Damian laughed. "What kind of question is that? When have I ever not come home?"

"Weren't you supposed to..."

Spend the night with your little girlfriend? I swallowed the rest of the sentence.

Damian suddenly leaned over and pressed me back down onto the bed, his breath against my lips. "Or were you up all night waiting for me to come home and... make a baby?"

He kissed me, moving lower. I could smell cheap vanilla perfume still clinging to his neck. It was the same scent Lana had been wearing last night.

My stomach turned. I shoved at him. "Get off me."

Damian pushed himself up, still flushed with desire. "What's wrong?"

"I..."

My phone rang. I answered right away. "Yes, this is she. You're here? Great, I'll be right down."

I pushed Damian away and got out of bed. He didn't like being interrupted, and his face darkened. "Who's that? Calling you this early, and it's a man?"

I pulled on a jacket. "It's not that early. Aren't you going to the office?"

"Did you forget? I told you I'm staying home with you this week."

"I'm fine. I don't need you to stay home with me."

Damian wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and kissed his way down the back of my neck. "Without me, how are you going to make a baby all by yourself?" His arms tightened. The hint couldn't have been any clearer.

My temper flared. "Let go of me."

Damian thought I was just sulking. He tipped my chin up and kissed me. "No."

"Let go!"

I wrenched myself free with everything I had. Damian stood frozen, his arms still half raised. He looked put out. "Sienna, what is going on with you?"

I turned my back and straightened the clothes he'd rumpled. "Nothing. I scheduled a pickup. Don't keep the guy waiting."

Downstairs, Martha had already shown Owen, the FedEx driver, into the living room. When he saw me, he got to his feet, a little stiff. "Mrs. Foster? You're the one shipping something?"

"That's me. Come on upstairs."

Owen followed me into the bedroom. Damian was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes cold. "Who said you could come in here? Get out!"

Owen looked flustered. "Mrs. Foster told me to..."

"I asked him to come up." I opened the closet and pointed to the boxes stacked inside. "Just these. Could you weigh them, please?"

Damian stared at the empty closet, his frown deepening. "Where are your clothes?"

I pointed at the boxes.

"Why are you packing up your clothes?" Damian's expression changed. "Are you leaving?"

He crossed the room in one stride and grabbed me by the shoulders so hard it hurt. "Sienna, where are you going?"