Spencer stared at the notepad for three seconds, his jaw clenching as he reached for his tumbler again.

“Don’t drag this out,” he said, walking toward the glass doors that opened onto the stone terrace.

“The board meets in less than two weeks, and everything has to be settled.”

I pushed the sealed envelope down into my handbag while Spencer went over to the terrace bar.

At seven the next evening, the Venetian glass chandelier threw a harsh grid of yellow light across eighteen feet of polished mahogany.

Spencer sat at the head of the dining table, his silver cuff links catching the glitter of the crystal overhead.