Park Avenue Secrets. Barbara Dunlop

      Hanna put in, “I don’t see how the government can move ahead on the constitutional vote if—”

      “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.” Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s drawl overrode Hanna’s words.

      Elizabeth glanced up to see Vivian’s penetrating gaze fixed on her. The hostile tone took her by surprise. “Hello, Vivian.”

      Vivian sniffed. “At minimum, one would think you’d let the speculation die down.”

      “What speculation?” Had somebody heard she was trying to get pregnant? Or had Collin gossiped about her failed seduction attempt?

      “Why, the SEC investigation, my dear,” said Vivian, a flash of triumph in her eyes and a cruel smile fighting its way to life on her face. “I don’t know what that husband of yours got up to. And, of course, it’s none of my business, but when the SEC starts investigating—”

      “Vivian Vandoosen, isn’t it?” Hanna elbowed her way between the two women and stuck out her hand, giving Elizabeth’s mind time to scramble for a foothold on logic.

      Vivian’s glare all but scalded Hanna. “Vannick-Smythe,” she corrected in an imperious voice.

      “Of course,” said Hanna. “It must have slipped my mind. You understand how it is. I meet so many important people in my job, others sometimes get lost in the shuffle.”

      Any other time, Elizabeth would have laughed at the insulted expression on Vivian’s face.

      “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us,” said Hanna, linking her elbow through Elizabeth’s, all but dragging her away from the stunned Vivian.

      “What’s she talking about?” Elizabeth hissed under her breath as they passed the fountain, heading toward the patio doors.

      “I assumed you knew,” said Hanna, making a beeline for the ballroom. “The story won’t break until tomorrow.”

      Elizabeth stopped abruptly. “There’s a story?”

      Hanna looked uncomfortable. “Bert Ralston is working on it right now.”

      Elizabeth felt her eyes go wide at the mention of the network’s top investigative reporter. “It’s that big?”

      Hanna nodded apologetically. “Your husband and Gage Lattimer are under investigation for insider trading in Ellias Technologies stock.”

      Elizabeth was speechless.

      “Let’s find a drink,” said Hanna.

      “How … I don’t …” Insider trading? Reed would never do something dishonest.

      “How do you not know?” asked Hanna, stopping in front of a bar and the uniformed bartender who stood behind a row of sparkling glasses and a garnish tray. “Two vodka martinis.”

      “He didn’t tell me.”

      Hanna nodded while the man mixed the drinks. “Really.”

      “Why didn’t he tell me?”

      Hanna scooped up the drinks and held one out to Elizabeth as they walked away. “Can’t help you there.”

      Elizabeth closed her fingers over the fine stem of the glass. Her husband was a subject of a criminal investigation, and he hadn’t bothered to mention it?

      Last night he’d told her nothing was going on. That it was a routine matter. Though clearly Collin knew what was up.

      Reed’s employees knew more than his wife did. The network news knew more than she did. Even Vivian Vannick-Smythe knew more than she did.

      How could Reed have put her in this position?

      “Is my marriage already over?” asked Elizabeth, dread welling up inside her.

      “I think,” said Hanna, obviously choosing her words with care, “you’re going to have to ask Reed that question.”

      Elizabeth took a gulp of the strong drink, determination replacing distress. “That’s not the only question I’m going to ask him.”

      Elizabeth’s green eyes glittered like emeralds as she turned on Reed in their penthouse foyer. “How do you not tell me you’re under investigation by the SEC?”

      Ah, there it was. She’d been uncharacteristically silent in the limo, so he’d known something was up. At least now he could mount a defense.

      He flipped on an overhead light, latching the dead bolt behind them. “It’s not a serious problem.”

      Her voice went up an octave. “Not a serious problem? They’re handing out twenty-year jail sentences for white-collar crimes these days.”

      “I didn’t do it,” he pointed out.

      She just smiled mulishly up at him.

      “You’ve got me tried, convicted and jailed.” Now, wasn’t that a vote of confidence?

      “I haven’t convicted you. I’m frightened for you.”

      “You sound angry.”

      “I’m both.”

      “You don’t need to be.”

      “Oh, well. Thanks. That makes it all better.”

      “You think sarcasm’s the answer?” He was perfectly willing to talk about this. But he wanted to have a reasonable, rational discussion. Mostly, he wanted to dispel her fears that he might be sentenced to jail.

      “I think communication is the answer,” she responded tartly. “You know, the part where you talk to me about what’s going on in your life. Your hopes, your fears, your aspirations, your pending criminal charges.”

      “How would telling you have helped?” Reed truly wanted to know.

      “We could have shared the load.”

      “You have your own load.”

      “We’re husband and wife, Reed.”

      “And husbands don’t unburden themselves by worrying their wives.”

      “Sure they do. All the time.”

      “Well, this husband doesn’t. You have enough to think about right now—”

      “You mean like the catering menu?”

      “Among other things. There was no point in both of us worrying, and I didn’t want to upset you.”

      “Well, I’m plenty upset now.”

      “You should stop.” He was going to take care of it. It was only a matter of time before this was wrapped up and life got back on track.

      “You’re joking, right?”

      “It’s nothing.” He stepped toward her. “It’ll blow over in no time.”

      She tipped up her chin to look at him. “What did you do?”

      “Nothing.”

      “I meant to make them suspicious.”

      “Nothing,” he repeated with conviction.

      “So, the SEC is conducting random investigations on innocent and unsuspecting citizens?”

      Reed drew a heavy sigh. He really didn’t have the energy to go into it tonight. It was late and, even though tomorrow was Sunday, he had a conference call first thing in the morning. He wanted to sleep. He wanted her to sleep, too.

      She cocked her head to one side. “Ellias Technologies?”

      “I bought some shares,” he reluctantly allowed. “So did Gage. Their value rose dramatically, and it tripped an alarm bell somewhere. Collin will take care of it. Now, let’s go to bed.”

      “That’s