Damien Crew was a man who made lists.
He made lists of risks, lists of suppliers, lists of people who owed him favors and people he owed none. He had a list in his head right now, and it was titled *Reasons To Keep My Distance From My Wife.* It had seven items. He had memorized all of them.
He was currently ignoring every one.
"Sir?" said Mrs. Pell, his assistant. She stood in the doorway of his office with a clipboard and a slightly worried face. "You asked me to find the best lemon pastries in the city."
"Yes."
"I've found eleven bakeries. Do you want me to book a tasting?"
"No. Just buy a box from each and send them to the house." He didn't look up from his screen. "Discreetly."
"Eleven boxes?"
"She likes lemon."
"Who does, sir?"
Damien paused. He saw, with horror, that he had said it out loud. "A colleague," he said stiffly. "Never mind. Thank you."
