Chapter Two––––––––
Sly lived in a modern three-bedroom house on two acres just on the outskirts of town. He’d hired a decorator, but the place, furnished in neutral colors, looked stark, uninhabited. It was clean and neat because he had a housekeeper, but cold and sterile. He didn’t like it and found himself spending evenings eating and drinking at The Savage Beast rather than returning to his chilly home.
When he’d fallen in love with Tiffany, he’d plastered her picture everywhere. There were photos of her and shots of the two of them—on a picnic, at the beach, doing everything except making love. He didn’t need a reminder of that. He’d never forget their steamy nights together and recalled them often when he went solo, until he’d met Samantha Drake.
Unless he got rid of all the pictu
