Marriage Confidential. Debra Regan
reluctant to leave without you.”
She knew he didn’t intend for those words to twine around her heart and yet she couldn’t stop the response. “When did you start enjoying social outings?”
“It’s a recent development.” His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver of desire over her skin. With another man she’d chalk up the comment as innuendo, but that wasn’t how Sam was wired.
Pulling herself together, she returned to her responsibilities of giving each guest a proper farewell and seeing everyone out of the museum as she gave more vague answers about their relationship.
Mr. Liu found her mingling with his wife and the other members of his party near the gallery and he signaled for a tray of champagne. “One last toast,” he said, holding his glass high. “May the gods of happiness, wealth and longevity smile upon you both, this day and always.”
They all drank to her marriage and Mr. Liu urged Madison and Sam toward the white jade cup on display while those who had arrived with him headed for the car waiting out front. “I had concerns, Mrs. Goode, as you know. Please also know I appreciate how efficiently you handled them.” He slid a look at Sam.
“It is my honor, Mr. Liu,” she replied. “We want you to be at ease, confident that we value the treasures you’ve shared here as much as China does.”
Mr. Liu met her gaze with direct, pointed interest. “I find it intriguing, Mrs. Goode, that you’ve kept a treasure of your own so well hidden.” He bowed slightly at Sam, maintaining eye contact. “Mr. Bellemere, it was an honor and good fortune to meet you personally this evening. Your company is of great interest to me.”
It shouldn’t have shocked her that Sam was known to leaders in China. He and Rush had established a global influence within the market of data security.
Assuming someone from the consulate hadn’t tried to plant listening devices in her apartment previously, they would be desperate to do so now that she was known to be married to Sam. Mr. Liu wasn’t even bothering with subtlety. If someone managed to bug her apartment, they’d soon learn she wasn’t really married to Sam. Madison was calculating the fallout, the timing and how to handle it as the men chatted about computer advancements.
With no more than a glance, Sam understood what she needed and helped her guide Mr. Liu toward the car and those waiting for him.
“My son has a great interest in the computer sciences,” Mr. Liu said, deftly shifting to an indirect tack. “He lacks follow-through and motivation, despite the best efforts of his family and educators. I’ve often thought it might motivate him to see what is possible.”
“How old is your son?” Sam asked.
“Nearly eighteen,” Mr. Liu replied. “He will begin at Stanford in the fall.”
“A very good school,” Sam said.
Mr. Liu ignored Madison’s attempts to lead him down the front steps. Resigned, she watched for an opening to rescue Sam from the conversation, but Sam seemed content. She let her mind wander over the evening, considering it a success. Regardless of the invisible, contained antics of the hacker, no one had suffered a misstep or misspoken word. Except her, by calling in her fake husband to save the evening.
She owed him more than an explanation, she thought, as Mr. Liu finally joined those waiting for him in the long black limousine. With a wave, she stepped back inside, startled to find herself alone with the museum director. Had Sam decided he didn’t need the full details of their fabricated marriage after all? For some inexplicable reason the idea made her sad as she and Mr. Wong chatted during the final walk-through of the museum.
When they reached the back hallway, she heard raised voices in the security office. Through the open door she saw Sam and Agent Spalding locked in a heated discussion.
“It’s not something I handle so casually,” Sam was saying. “You’ll have to go through the appropriate channels.”
“I am leading the only official investigation,” Spalding fired back. “It’s better for everyone if you cooperate up front.”
“We don’t even have an ID,” Sam retorted. “Bring over a legit ID and a warrant and someone can probably tell you if he has a Gray Box. Until then you’re shooting in the dark.”
“Is the overnight team in place?” Madison asked Spalding, striding forward and inserting her voice into the verbal fray.
“Yes,” Spalding answered, glaring over her head at Sam as if she weren’t there. “The team will stay on full alert outside and in.”
“Wonderful,” she replied. “Then it’s time for the rest of us to go home.”
“You can go once I’m confident your husband will keep me in the loop.”
She silenced Sam’s reply with a raised finger. “He gave you his word earlier. You watched him lend us his phenomenal expertise with zero advance notice this evening. What else do you need to hear, Special Agent Spalding?”
Spalding planted his hands on his hips. “Mr. Bellemere keeps secrets for a living.”
“No,” Sam interjected. “My company offers people and businesses secure cloud storage solutions. That is entirely different.”
“This is neither the time nor the place,” Madison emphasized, “to get into a philosophical discussion about online privacy. I am grateful to the FBI for helping this event run safely and smoothly tonight. Whatever the hacker’s goal, I’m sure we’ll all work together to root him out before he causes serious trouble.”
Obviously not even close to appeased, Spalding stood down for the moment. When she’d gathered her red silk shawl and her briefcase, the three of them along with the museum director walked together in a tense silence to the rear entrance of the museum. Satisfied with the alarms, Spalding offered Sam and Madison a ride. Sam refused for both of them.
“We’re covered.” He pointed to a limo waiting under a streetlamp on the far side of the parking lot. “My driver’s waiting.”
Spalding muttered something Madison didn’t hear because she was nudging Sam toward the car. They had more important issues to discuss. At half past midnight, she hoped he’d let the discussion wait until morning.
The driver opened the rear door for them, giving her a small nod as she slid into the plush leather seat, followed closely by Sam. Maybe he left events with women all the time. Her heart sank a little at the thought.
When the driver was settled behind the wheel, she leaned forward to give him her address.
“Mr. Bellemere already provided the destination, ma’am,” he replied.
“Thank you.” She sat back and caught the grim expression on Sam’s face. “What’s wrong?”
He ignored her. “Jake, have you left the car alone at all tonight?”
“No, sir,” the driver said. “I gassed up after I dropped you off. When I received your message, I stuck close. Didn’t park until about an hour ago and no one has been near the car.”
“Thank you.” Sam turned the full force of his attention to her, irritation snapping in his eyes. “You can start explaining right here, right now.”
“What do you mean?”
Sam’s dark eyebrows arched as if her confusion baffled him. “Do I have to spell it out? The car is clean. It hasn’t been left alone for anyone to tamper with.”
“Tamper?” He was deliberately trying to scare her and he was succeeding.
“How often do they sweep your office for listening devices?”
She folded her arms and stared out the window. “Often enough,” she said, refusing to take the bait.
“Why do they sweep for those devices?”
“Okay,