He hung up. He'd used my first name. In all our strategic talks, it was always "Sullivan." The formality of "Ms. Sullivan" felt colder than him just saying "Nerissa" to his assistant. It made this real. It made me a fact in his world.

The city lights blurred past. His phone lit up again, buzzing. I watched him glance at it. The screen glowed with the name Jovianne. He watched it ring, his face hard. It rang again. He swiped to reject the call, then held the button and powered the whole phone off. The final click was louder than a shout.

He stared at the dark screen in his...