She leaned forward and applied a touch of lipstick, then made sure her blonde hair didn’t straggle out of its bun. He always liked her hair up. There. That would do. She slipped into her high-heeled sandals and did a last sweep of the penthouse, her heels clicking on the sandalwood floor. Kitchen spotless. Den spotless. Sitting room . . . She paused at the sitting room’s sliding glass doors, longing for one last visit to the thirtieth-floor balcony to admire the city’s night-lights, but it was too windy. She didn’t even glance at the spare bedroom’s closed door. The
Heartsick
