Chapter 45

“Drum?”

“What?” He was livid, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he began to froth at the mouth.

“I’d suggest you see a therapist,” I told him. “I’m serious. You weren’t responsible for what happened in Paris.”

“Of course I wasn’t—” Drum’s face flushed and his chest heaved with indignant breaths. Finally, he made a disgusted sound and resumed striding away from us.

“Do you think he’ll take my advice?”

“No. And I hate to tell you this, Quinn, but y’know something? I don’t think he loves you anymore.” Mark looked satisfied.

“I’m cut to the quick.”

“I’ll bet.”

I chuckled. “Come on, let’s go have dinner. It’s been a long time since lunch, and I’m famished.” We walked back past the kitchen. “How did you get here?”

“The Balm flew me out.” He rested his hand on my arm. “I had some spare time while he had the jet fueled, and I checked out your place.”

“And?”