Tristan took the opportunity to slap Marina's backside. Several times.
I stood frozen outside the door, watching through the gap. Hot tears spilled down my face before I could stop them.
I went home and packed my things.
Just as I finished, my phone buzzed.
A video message from Tristan Lawrence.
Marina lay sprawled across a hotel bed, eyes glazed and half-shut. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone.
Then came Tristan's voice, dripping with smugness. "Hey, Godfrey. Ms. Pruitt had a little too much to drink, so I brought her to a hotel to rest. Once I've wiped her down, I'll head out. Don't be jealous now!"
A vein throbbed at my temple, pulsing with rage.
It was a blatant provocation.
I didn't reply. I turned off my phone and tossed it aside.
When I walked into the bathroom to shower, I spotted something in the trash can. A pregnancy test, lying face-up. Two red lines.
I froze.
Marina and I hadn't been intimate in three months. One month of that was my business trip, but even before I left, she hadn't let me touch her.
And now she was pregnant.
Whose baby was it?
I stared at that test, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles went white.