Chapter 4 - The Storm at the GatesThe Porsche Cayenne tore up the circular gravel driveway of the Grant estate at nearly ninety miles an hour, tires spraying slush and gravel against the manicured hedges.
Alexander threw the car into park, killed the engine, and sprinted toward the front entrance.
Even from the porch, he could hear it.
Bass. Laughter. Shouting. Music thumping through the triple-paned acoustic glass of the living room windows.
He slammed his key into the front door lock, twisting it open and throwing the heavy oak door wide.
“Erin!” Alexander roared, stepping into the foyer.
The sight that met his eyes froze him in his tracks.
The grand dining room was unrecognizable. Empty champagne bottles littered the floor. Rose petals were scattered everywhere. And standing in the center of the room, laughing freely with a circle of breathtakingly handsome, shirtless professional dancers, was Erin.
She wore her dark blue dress, flushed with wine, glowing with an electric, radiant energy he had never seen in her eyes during their entire two-year marriage.
A tall dancer with broad shoulders and a charming grin casually had his arm draped over the back of Erin’s chair.
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Alexander’s face turned a violent shade of purple. Veils of rage pulled tight across his temples.
“What in God’s name is happening in my house?!” Alexander screamed, marching into the room, pointing a shaking finger at the dancers. “Get out! All of you, get out right now before I call the police!”
