by Kendall Ryan
“The only reason you’re so upset over this is because you’re in love with her.”
I measure his words, turning them over in my mind. I don’t want to even think the L-word. Not when she’s gone and I have no idea if I stand a chance at getting her back. Instead, I just insist, “I’m not upset.”
He chuckles. “No, you’re right. You’re destroyed. Heartbroken. Utterly devastated.”
Fuck. I let out a heavy sigh, unable to argue.
“What the hell did you expect to happen?” he asks.
I shrug, fed up with his brand of tough love.
“Fine, then. You can give me the silent treatment all you want. But if you really love her, and I know you do, you know what you have to do, right?” When I don’t respond, he says impatiently, “Go get your girl, you stupid bloody wanker.”
If only it were that easy. I don’t know where she went, and despite calling around, I haven’t turned up any leads. She won’t answer my calls. Fred is no use. And Camryn won’t give me any information either.
“Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“So you’re giving up? Then you’re in luck. This is nothing that a couple of strippers and a bottle of whiskey can’t solve.” Sterling grins.
Even though I know he’s just trying to provoke me into action, I still make a sound of disgust. The old Noah would have handled everything in his life with debauchery, but lately, I have about as much interest in pussy that isn’t Olivia’s as I do in kissing Sterling.
“Not happening,” I bark out.
“Come off it, mate.” Sterling rolls his eyes and crosses one ankle over his knee, flashing me a bright paisley sock. “Noah fucking Tate went and got himself a wife. You wanted to pretend this wasn’t going to change anything, wanted me to believe everything would continue as before.”
“And your point?” My tolerance for his fancy British ass in my apartment lessens by the second.
“And the whole fucking world has changed, you included. You play to win, always have. As long as I’ve known you.”
I nod, defeated. The bastard is right. I’ve always played for keeps when it came to Olivia. “So, what do I do now?”
“You’re asking me? I already gave you my two cents.” He leans his lanky six-foot-something frame against the back of my couch and smirks. “And I take it you’ve already done the ol’ drag-the-beast-from-his-lair trick.”
I scrub a hand over my face. That’s awkward. I laugh, despite my foul mood. “God, I can’t believe we actually used to do that.”
“Hey, that trick won us the Murelli twins.” His tone is the definition of authority on the subject.
“Still, don’t you think it was a little fucking juvenile that we used to pull out our cocks on a dare for girls to drool over?”
Sterling’s boyish good looks and British accent, coupled with my charm and quick wit, used to gain us all the female company we could handle. But when we were feeling frisky and needed that extra push to close a deal, we were double trouble, whipping out the goods—each of us impressive in that department.
He smirks. “So you’re telling me you never showed her your little buddy?”
“Don’t be a dumb fuck. Of course I did.” At the bar, on our first date. Super classy of me.
He laughs, the sound sharp and loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “And she still left? Bloody hell, that’s just depressing.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s like a fucking teenager sometimes. Never been in love. Never experienced anything like I had with Olivia.
“Her leaving had nothing to do with not being satisfied physically.”
His smile fades.
“She left because I deceived her.” I drop my head into my hands. “I should have just told her from the start.”
Sterling claps a hand against my back. “Chin up. Olivia’s a big girl; she should have read that contract. But yeah, you are kind of a cunt for not telling her.”
Something I already knew. Thanks for twisting the knife, buddy.
“If we’re done here, I’m going to go to the gym. I need to clear my head.”
Sterling nods and rises to his feet. “We’re done. Just call me if you need me.”
“Will do.”
Sterling heads out while I grab my gym bag and slip into my running shoes. I need to blow off some steam before I go insane.
Soon I’m at the gym, my feet pounding on the treadmill, sweat dripping down my back. Even if the workout is tough, I’m thankful not to be sitting within the four walls of our penthouse anymore. It’s too quiet and empty. Olivia only packed an overnight bag when she left, and her rows of clothes and sexy high heels still rest next to mine in the master closet.
I crank up the speed on the machine and fight past the oxygen-starved pain in my lungs. My shallow breaths come too fast, but I don’t care. I push harder. Faster.
Looking down at the clock on the machine, I see I’ve been at it for a mere six minutes. Seriously? Six fucking minutes? From the man who could easily run five miles through Central Park on the weekends?
Why does every minute without her in my life feel like an eternity?
Part of me doesn’t want to admit it, but . . . maybe Sterling was on to something. What I’m feeling is heartbreak. Yes, my heart still beats, but it’s broken. I never knew a love like I’ve felt for Olivia. And I’ve also learned that neither the company nor my career is worth losing her. All the money in the world means nothing if I don’t have love in my life. My wife by my side.
And Sterling was one hundred percent right. I’m in love with her.
Slamming the heel of my hand against the red knob, I stop the belt and draw deep, cleansing breaths.
I know I can’t outrun this problem. Being a man means facing it head on. I need to apologize to Olivia. Again. Make her listen this time.
Unfortunately, since she won’t answer my calls, I’ll need to fight dirty.
I shower and change in the men’s locker room, solidifying my plan. Once I set it in motion, it will work quickly.
On the way home from the gym, I type out a text.
Noah: Snowflake, it’s your dad. His health has taken a turn for the worse. Where are you?
It takes only seconds for my phone to buzz in my hand. But rather than an answering text, she’s calling me.
“Oh my God. What happened? Is he okay?” Her voice is panicked, and I hate that I have to do this. But I do. I need to see her. Need to win her back.
“I know you’re pissed at me, but where are you? Let me come get you.”
Olivia chokes on a sob. “I’m at David’s place in the mountains. Hours from New York. Noah, please just tell me, is he okay?”
“He’ll be okay. Text me the address and I’ll plug it into the GPS. I’m on my way.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I should be breathing a deep sigh of relief. Instead, I find jealousy clouding my judgment. “Just one more thing . . . who the fuck is David?”
Rather than answering, she lets out an exasperated huff and hangs up the phone. Well, then.
My phone chimes with the address and I head off, with nothing to do with three hours except stew over who the fuck this guy is that she ran off to for comfort.
After an hour on the road, I can’t take it anymore. I call Camryn.
“Who the hell is David?” I snap once she answers.
“Hello to you too, grouch,” Camryn says with a huff.
“Tell me, Camryn.”
She lets out a long sigh and I hear the TV switch off in the background. “So you got her to crack, huh?”
“I’m on my way to pick her up at some guy’s house. I deserve to know what the hell is going on.”
She barks out a humorless laugh. “Rrrright. Just like Olivia deserved to know you were plotting the entire time to knock her up.”
I guess the cat’s out of the bag. But what did I expect? I went to my best friend for advice; it only makes sense that Olivia did too. I take a deep breath.
“I wasn’t plotting, goddammit. I was torn up over the whole thing. It became obvious that Olivia never read the contract, and I was trying to figure out the right thing to do.”
“In what world is ‘the right thing’ sabotaging a rubber so you get her pregnant?”
“I love Olivia and wanted to make a life with her. A baby would have eventually been in the cards, right?” A little chubby thing with her blue eyes and a gummy smile. The thought makes me grin.
“Except that you never even asked what Olivia wanted. You just assumed. And were going to bully your way into her uterus come hell or high water.”
I grit my teeth. “It wasn’t like that.” Except, fuck, it was. I’m the world’s biggest asshole.
“You’re in deep shit, Noah. Not even your magical nine-inch strawberry-flavored dick is going to save you this time.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Got it.”
“Good luck.”
I end the call and double-check the directions. Camryn was no help, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be there soon enough, and I will get my woman back.
I hit the gas pedal and zip off down the road, that much closer to whatever the future holds.
• • •
When I pull into the circular driveway in front of a freaking mansion built into the side of a mountain, I do a double-take to make sure I have the right address. Sure as shit, whoever this David is, he lives in a fucking ski resort, by the looks of it. And based on the lack of cars in the drive, I’m wondering if he and Olivia have the place all to themselves . . . and how they’ve been keeping busy.
Climbing the front steps, I brace myself for what I might find inside. But before I can knock, the large glass door swings open and Olivia’s standing at the threshold with a pissed-off glare in her eyes.
“I can’t believe you,” she barks and then storms away.
I follow her inside, taking note of the cozy cabin-chic decor and the gourmet kitchen with a rustic barnwood table for ten. “Olivia, I—”
She stops in front of a massive stone fireplace that rises to the beamed vaulted ceiling. “Using my father’s health as a bargaining chip,” she scoffs. “Is nothing off-limits with you?” Her posture is stiff, but I can see her hands trembling.
“I’m sorry about that.”
She rolls her eyes. “I called him the second we hung up. He was at home resting, said he was totally fine.” Her gaze drops for a second. “Well, not fine. But nothing’s changed.”
I step closer to take her shaking hands in mine. “When shit hits the fan, you run. It’s what you do. It’s what you did when we were first presented with the contract. Then again at our wedding when Brad blackmailed you. And now, when I fucked up. Real couples don’t run from their problems. We have to work on this together, and that means talking it out.”
She yanks her hands away. “Great, I’m all ears. I can’t wait to hear how you’re going to talk your way out of this one.”
I hear footsteps behind us, and watch Olivia’s expression turn neutral as her eyes track who I assume must be David. Fighting off a smirk, I turn around.
David looks to be our age, with shaggy brown hair and a pleasant grin on his face. “Hey. Sorry to interrupt.” He turns up his palms. “I’m David. Noah, I assume?”
“The one and only. Did you enjoy my wife?”
His grin vanishes as his eyes narrow. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but Olivia is an old friend from college. When she called needing a place to crash away from the city for a few days, I opened my door to her.”
Olivia’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Don’t be a dick, Noah. I don’t know if I’m even going to be your wife after this.”
My gut twists and I swallow down a lump in my throat. “Fine. But it’s time to go.” I have zero interest in hanging around with her pal in his mansion.
She crosses the room, without the argument I expected, and gives David a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They speak in hushed tones, and after he gives her a final hug, she heads for the front door, ignoring me completely.
I follow behind her, giving David a curt nod.
I’m afraid it’s going to be a long, silent drive back to the city.
And for the first fifteen minutes, it is. We speed down the highway, the only sound the quiet hum of the air-conditioning. Miles tick past and Olivia sits motionless beside me, staring straight ahead at the taillights of the car in front of us, making a point of neither looking at me nor avoiding me. The subtle scent of her vanilla honeysuckle perfume teases me from the passenger seat.
I’m still pissed off, still unsure how to proceed. There’s no manual for how to be a good husband, and I’ve fucked up plenty. But my heart is in the right place. Still, it hurts more than I thought possible that she ran off to some other guy for comfort.
“Did you fuck him?” I finally blurt, cutting through the silence.
She tenses. “What?” Then she turns toward the passenger window, not letting me see her face. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“Did. You. Fuck. Him,” I repeat, my hands tightening on the wheel.
“You have no right to that information.” Under her breath, she adds, “Just as you had no right to my uterus.”
“Fucking hell I do.”
Her head suddenly whips around. “What if I did? Would that piss you off? What if I said that he licked my pussy and fucked me until I screamed his name?”
My foot jams the brake. I haul the car over to the side of the two-lane highway. I slam my fists against the steering wheel and inhale angry breaths, my nostrils flaring.
“Goddammit, Olivia.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re mad at me?” She scoffs aloud, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have some fucking nerve, you know that?”
“You ran to another man for comfort, Snowflake. How am I supposed to feel? I’m your husband.”
A bitter laugh that sounds more like a yelp bursts from her lips. “Some husband. Do I need to remind you of all the various ways you’ve fucked up within the past forty-eight hours?”
I hold up one hand. “Please don’t. I’m miserable, Snowflake. You can’t possibly know how sorry I am.”
Something flashes in her eyes and for just a second I see . . . sympathy? But then it’s gone, replaced by her steely reserve. And that’s the precise moment I know I’m fucked. It’s one thing to imagine how she was feeling, but it’s quite another to see the hurt still burning in her eyes, to hear the venom in her voice. This isn’t going to be easy.
“Were you really going to do it? Get me pregnant without including me in the decision?”
I swallow and loosen my grip on the wheel. “I’m not going to lie to you. The thought crossed my mind. But then I knew I couldn’t. Wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did something like that.”
“And when I caught you in the bathroom?”
“It was a moment of confusion. Weakness. Desperation. I promise you, I wouldn’t have gone through with it.”
She nods once, then looks down at her hands. “Just take me home.”
“I have somewhere better in mind.”
• • •
When I roll to a stop in front of the Cane family estate outside the city, Olivia unbuckles her seat belt and climbs from the car without a word. I called Fred on my way here and asked him and Prescott for a quick meeting.
Fred’s standing in the foyer. As we approach, he shifts nervously.
“Hi, Dad,” Olivia says, giving him a brief hug. She might be pissed off at him too, but he’s a sick old man, and her father. Something tells me her forgiveness will come a lot quicker for him than for me.
Fred tips his head toward the study. “Go have a seat. Prescott and I will be right there.”
As we head toward his office, I swallow the last of my pride because I know this conversation is going to be a difficult one. I’ve taken advantage of Fred’s trust in me—tricked his little girl. I feel about two inches tall.
We take
our seats at opposing ends of the mahogany table and settle in to wait.
Olivia’s gaze cuts over to mine. “Why in the world were you fucking me with condoms if you were supposed to get me pregnant?” she hisses.
“Because it was what you wanted.” My voice is soft and Olivia’s eyes are wary, like she wants to understand my true motivations. I hate this part of our relationship. I hate that I lied to her, and that I don’t know how to fix it. “You asked to begin a physical relationship. Of course I wanted that too, but you were in the driver’s seat. I tried to give you what you wanted. And as far as getting you pregnant without your consent, I never could have gone through with it.”
Her mouth turns down into a frown. Now she doesn’t look angry so much as confused. She stares at the platinum wedding band on her left hand, turning it over and over while we wait.
Chapter Three
Olivia
Prescott arrives about ten minutes later and takes the seat next to Dad. We’re evenly spaced around the conference table, as if nobody wants to get too close to anyone else.
I used to play in Dad’s study as a child, under this very table. Its familiar mahogany surface is smooth and cool beneath my clammy palms. With every slight move of my hand, my wedding band ticks against the polished hardwood like a clock. Counting up or counting down, I’m not sure. I’m even less sure about why I haven’t taken off that damn ring and thrown it in the Hudson River.
With us four the only attendees, the atmosphere should be relaxed; we’re family, after all, with the exception of Prescott. But it’s even stiffer and stuffier than a typical business meeting. I can’t quite look any of these men in the eye—especially Noah. Every time I try, my emotions start roiling again, threatening to spill over, churning so ferociously that I can’t even tell what I’m feeling. I shouldn’t have sat across from him, but the alternative would be going near him.
The way Noah finagled a chance to talk to me today, when I’d already made it clear I didn’t want to talk, I still can’t believe he had the balls to do that. I was already ultra-pissed at him for hiding the truth about the heir clause. Telling me that Dad was on death’s door was just piling lies upon lies. Did he really think that more deceit would help his case?
