Chloe squeezed his arm.

“Marcus,” she murmured.

“Should we go?”

“No.” His pride would not permit a retreat, not in front of me, not now.

He stepped closer instead, and lowered his voice, reaching for the register of a reasonable man addressing a reasonable colleague.

“Evelyn,” he said.

“Whatever happened between us shouldn’t interfere with business.”

“It hasn’t,” I said.