“He said there had been suspicious activity, so he moved the money temporarily.”
“Where?”
“I still don’t know.”
That seemed to bother him more than the locks.
I noticed because his eyes sharpened.
“You have an attorney?”
“Yes. A family lawyer in Dallas. Celeste Moran.”
“Good.”
“I can’t afford her for long.”
“Still. Don’t make any legal decisions without talking to her.”
I looked at him.
For a billionaire, it was an unexpectedly ordinary piece of advice.
He seemed to read that thought.
“I’m not offering to solve your divorce, Elena.”
Heat rose in my cheeks.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“I know.” His voice softened. “But given who I am, people sometimes assume help comes with control attached. I don’t want you wondering.”
Before I could answer, the plane stopped.
Everyone stood immediately, because apparently humanity had agreed that remaining seated for an additional ninety seconds was unbearable.
Adrian stayed where he was.
So did I.
A flight attendant approached.
“Mr. Prescott?”
Adrian nodded.
“We’re ready for you.”
He turned to me.
“My car can take you wherever you’re going.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s also not a favor you’ll owe me for.”
