"I know," Simone said. "If someone walked into my kitchen that way, I'd write the same story. Possibly with worse adjectives."
"Are you sleeping with my husband?"
"No."
"Have you ever wanted to?"
Simone's mouth tilted. Not quite a smile. "No. Marcus Ellison in crisis is many things—loyal, exhausting, meticulous about bubble wrap—but he is not a man radiating availability. He talks about you the way some people talk about gravity. As if the world would float apart without the reference."
Nia exhaled. "Then tell me what I couldn't see in the documents. Tell me who you are in this besides commission."