Chapter 4
When the scouring was finished, Nathan gave himself another blast of frozen water and got out of the bathtub entirely too awake. He dried off, threw on clean clothes, and was shoving his feet into his shoes when his cell rang again.
It was Laura. Shit. This likely wasn’t good. Nathan answered the phone. “Hi, honey.”
“Don’t you fucking honeyme,” Laura snarled.
“Would you prefer sugar?”
“Where are you?” Laura demanded, ignoring Nathan’s poor humor. She usually did.
“Running errands,” Nathan said in case Laura was standing in his empty apartment and noting his absence.
“Errands? You have got to be—Look, drop whatever it is you’re doing and get over to—Oh, is our table ready, Daddy?” Laura’s voice changed midstride from Satan Woman to Angelic Cherub
“Yes, this is Nate. He says he’s not feeling well.” A pause and then Laura’s tinkling laughter scraped Nathan’s raw nerves. “Daddy says you’d better be in top shape by Monday morning for your meeting.”