I woke mid-morning, alone and in rumpled sheets that smelled of Warren. I held the edge up to my nose, inhaling his scent, disappointed he wasn’t waiting for me, ready for round four. Where had he run off to? Then I remembered. Sex inspired Warren. Back when we were together, I’d wake to find him gone. The first time I panicked, dressing and running from the room, expecting to do the walk of shame. But then I’d found him in a grubby hotel lobby, guitar in his lap, headphones in his ears as he composed. “You’re my muse, baby,” he’d told me on a bright smile. Then I’d sat in his lap while he sang in my ear the most incredible lyrics.
I lay still and silent for a moment, listening to the birds outside. Finally, I rolled from the bed. At my feet were my clothes from last night. My lip curled at the thought of putting them on again. I wandered the room, pushing open doors.
I found a massive bathroom containing a shower with three heads and a porcelain tub. I vowed to get to know that tub through many bubble baths.
Next door led to a walk-in closet. The racks were mostly empty—Warren’s wardrobe took up a small slice of space. I grabbed a flannel from a hanger and slipped it over my shoulders. I turned and frowned. The other side of the closet was filled with women’s clothes. Rat bastard, was my first thought. I inspected closer, visions of me with a pair of scissors shredding said clothing dancing before my eyes.
I stopped short.
The clothes were mine. The ones I’d left behind in Rome. Warren had kept all my things? I was surprised he hadn’t burned them. That was what I would’ve done with his. My fingers drifted over the clothes—sundresses, blouses—all neatly hung and pressed. Of its own volition, my hand went to a set of drawers. I pulled the top one open. A long necklace I’d bought in Greece, a cheap piece of costume jewelry, was nestled inside the velvet-lined drawer. Next to the necklace was a black box. I flipped it open, and nearly dropped it. A simple gold band—my original wedding ring, the one I’d pawned—lay inside, along with a massive diamond ring. Hands shaking, I shut the box and shoved it to the back of the drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.
Since Warren kept my dresses and blouses, I imagined my underclothes were hidden in one of those drawers. But I didn’t want to wear my old things. That would make me feel like Old Addy again, the girl who allowed Warren to walk all over her.
I was New Addy.
I tramped from the closet and yanked open one of the dresser drawers. Finding Warren’s boxers, I slipped a pair on and left the bedroom.
I wandered the halls for at least twenty minutes. My stomach growled. I found the kitchen and decided to help myself to some breakfast. I opened a massive Sub-Zero fridge and put my head in, searching for sustenance. Prepared meals in Tupperware containers sat on the shelves. A couple of bottles of orange juice lined the back. I reached for one.
“So now that he’s got money, you’re all over him again.” The voice startled me and I jumped, banging my head on a fridge shelf. Shit. Ouch. Rubbing my head, I turned.
A very disgruntled Derren, wearing an old Rolling Stones shirt and faded jeans, stood by the marble island. His hands were jammed in his pockets, and his brows were dipped in a frown. I imagined smoke coming out of his nostrils and ears. He looked more angry bull than man. I glanced down, making sure I wasn’t wearing red, lest he mistake me for a cape and charge. I remembered Ash’s words—Derren says you have a black heart. I matched Derren’s frown. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked. I wanted to make sure I’d heard him correctly before I went ape shit all over his ass.
He sneered. “You heard me. Now that War’s got money, you’re back on him like white on rice.” Shaking his head, he snorted. “Typical female.”
Whoa. When had Derren become such a misogynist asshole? I didn’t know what to react to first—Derren’s comments about Warren’s money, or Derren’s assault on all womankind. I decided to defend females and myself simultaneously. “Shut up, Derren. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your actions speak for themselves, Addy.” Under his beard, his cheeks tinged red. “Three years ago it was all fun for you until shit got real. Then when you realized Warren didn’t have any money and probably wouldn’t for a long time, you cut and run.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. If looks could kill, Derren would be slumped on the floor, eyes rolled back in his head. I crossed my arms. “That’s what you think?” I rolled my eyes. “I thought you knew me. But it’s clear you don’t.” I turned around, dismissing him, and began to rummage through the cabinets. There had to be some cereal around here. I said a silent prayer for Lucky Charms.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You won’t even defend yourself because you know it’s true.”
My shoulders tightened but I didn’t turn. Then I heard it. Derren muttered under his breath. “Rich bitch.”
Fury erupted in my veins. I came unglued. Slamming the cupboard shut, I flew at Derren. His arms came up, but he was too slow. My palm connected with his cheek, forcing his head sideways. The slap echoed in the cavernous kitchen.
I paused, breaths heaving in my chest, surprised at my violent reaction. Derren flexed his jaw, rubbing the spot where I’d hit. My hand stung but I couldn’t feel it, my anger still burning hot. I pointed a finger at him. “You don’t know shit, Derren. You want to know why I took off? Why I ‘cut and ran?’” My fingers made quotation marks. “You remember that party in Rome, the night before I left?” Derren nodded apprehensively, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Well, I found your good buddy Warren smoking weed with that greasy drummer from the headlining band. I overheard them talking. About me.” My finger jammed into his chest. I made sure to poke extra hard. “I remember exactly what they said because the fucking words are burned into my brain.” I relayed the conversation to Derren, repeating it word for word.
“Her old man is loaded. Someday he’ll die and all that money will be ours,” Warren had said.
“Yeah, Billy Wanks has a shit-ton of money,” the drummer had said, “but word is, he hates you. I bet you don’t see a dime.”
Warren shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s enough to piss him off. Motherfucker had us booted from his tour. It took us years to come back. It’s going to be sweet when he finds out I’ve defiled his little girl. I can’t wait to watch his head explode when she calls me her husband.”
When I finished, Derren’s eyes were wide. “Addy—”
I cut him off with a shake of my head. “So you see, you got it backwards, D. Warren was with me for nothing more than money and a big fuck you to my dad.” I stopped on a choked sob. It hurt to say it aloud. The old wound ripped open with fresh pain.
Derren’s lips parted. His eyes flicked over my shoulder.
“That’s why you took off?” Warren said.
I squeezed my eyes shut, balled my hands into fists. The situation had gone from bad to worse. I wasn’t ready for this conversation. I would never be ready for it—to look in Warren’s eyes and see the truth: everything we shared had meant nothing to him. I was just a means to an end.
Derren was quick to escape. “I just remembered I have to do something over there.” He pointed to an empty hallway and made himself scarce. Coward.
“Addy,” Warren said, his voice closer, deeper. He’d crept up behind me. “I asked you a question. Is that why you took off?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad.” His hand went to my shoulder, turning me. I found the marble floor suddenly very fascinating. Warren’s feet were bare. He had long toes with just a sprinkle of hair on each. Was it weird to find toes sexy? His fingers went to my chin, forcing my head up.
“I hate how you’re so bossy,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
His gaze stayed serious and fixed on me. “I’ll try to work on that.”
“I hate how you always insist on getting your way,” I added. Now seemed as good a time as any to air my complaints.
“That’s kind of the same thing as bossy. But I’ll work on that, too. What else?”
I bit my lip. “That’s it. I’d like to go now.” I turned on my heel and tried to stomp from the kitchen. Warren’s hand clamped down around my upper arm, stalling me.
“Tell me why you left Rome, Addy. Tell me now and tell me the truth.”
I frowned at him. “I thought you just said you were going to work on the bossy and getting-your-way thing.”
He shrugged, drawing me to him by the elbows. “What can I say? Those are my flaws. I guess we’ll just have to accept them and move on.”
I tapped my foot and jutted my chin. Warren couldn’t make me talk. We stared at each other.
I decided to try to divert the conversation again. Avoidance was a specialty of mine. “What is Derren even doing here?”
Warren sighed and dropped his hands from me. “It’s a big place. He crashes here sometimes.”
“You could have warned me.”
“Sorry. I was a little distracted last night.” He grinned. I frowned. The smile faded from his face. “About what you just said, you overheard something you weren’t ever meant to hear.”
Duh. “Sorry for messing up your grand plans.”
Warren scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus, Addy, give me a minute to explain.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Go ahead.” I swept my hand out. Warren had the floor. I couldn’t imagine him saying anything to change my mind, my feelings. Moments passed like eons. Warren’s lips thinned, his jaw ticked. He didn’t say anything. I rolled my eyes and took a few steps to exit.
“I said that shit because it was true.”
Is it possible for a heart to break and then break all over again? Yes, it is, because that is what happened as soon as the words left Warren’s mouth. My hands balled into fists as I fought the urge to cry, to sob. “Thank you for being honest.” If I straightened my spine any more it might crack. Earlier I’d spied a bathroom down this hallway. I took a step, five feet to the door then I could lock myself away and unleash the tidal wave of emotion coasting through me. It wasn’t going to be pretty. In fact, it was going to be downright ugly—tears, snot and red cheeks.
A frustrated growl escaped Warren. He stepped in my path, blocking me.
“Let me pass,” I said, staring at his chest.
“No. You said you’d let me explain.”
“What more is there to explain?” Was that my voice, cracking and thick with tears? A thought occurred and a whole new level of pain crept through my body. “That’s why you were so insistent on telling Billy about our marriage. You wanted to hurt him.” Why did it have to be through me?
“No, that’s not it at all.” I risked a glance at his face, wanting to see if I could decipher the truth from lies in his expression. War shook his head, disgusted. “I wanted to tell him because I was sick of hiding. I wanted to tell the world you were my wife. I wanted every prick out there to know you belonged to me.”
I did some head shaking of my own. The things he said back then didn’t match what he was saying now. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re talking in circles—”
Warren ran a hand through his hair. He kicked a trashcan. Garbage spilled out onto the floor. My heart felt like that trash—scattered, discarded, stomped all over. “Fuck! I was pissed at Billy too, okay? I fucking hated that he booted us from the tour. And I fucking hated it even more how he blocked me from seeing you. We had everything going for us in the States and then with one wave of his hand, Billy swept it all away.”
Oh, no, here came the tears. They trailed down my cheeks, liquid proof of how much Warren had wounded me.
“Please, baby, don’t cry.” His hands landed on my shoulders but I jerked away. “Being with you was always the plan. If you’d stuck around, you would’ve heard the end of the conversation. I told Jimmy that I loved you and taking you from Billy was just icing on the cake. I thought I could have both, be married to you and fulfill my bullshit vendetta against Billy.”
I sniffled and hid my face behind my hands.
“I still don’t like your father,” he muttered. “I think he’s a prick. But I don’t hate him as much as I love you. You’ll never know how sorry I am that you got caught in the crossfire. These last few years I’ve realized you’re all that matters. I could give a fuck about hurting Billy anymore.”
“Y-you used me. You u-used me f-for money, f-for revenge.” The words came out on a stutter, between bursts of tears. I wondered what else he’d said about me to others.
“For fuck’s sake,” Warren all but yelled. “I don’t give a fuck about the money, Addy. I never did. What can I do to prove it to you?”
I shook my head, hesitating, unwilling to believe him. Warren would do anything to get his way. He told pretty lies to cover his ugly deeds.
Warren’s expression grew thoughtful. “Come with me.” He grabbed my wrist and led me out a door and into a garage. I was too sad, too defeated to resist. Plucking a set of keys from a pin board on the wall, he unlocked the doors to a vintage Camaro and gestured for me to get in.
I swiped away my tears. “I’m not dressed,” I said, glancing down, taking in my boxer-brief-and-flannel outfit. “I don’t want to go anywhere.” Why was he doing this? I just wanted to go somewhere and hide, process everything he’d said, pick it apart.
“Get in the car,” he said. “We’re going for a ride.” Warren’s face was mutinous. When I refused to budge, he spoke. “If it makes you feel better I’ll strip down to my underwear, too.” His hands went to the button fly on his jeans.
I held out a hand. “That’s not necessary.”
We stared at each other, a familiar type of tug of war. The first one to break the stare: a loser. I huffed, rolled my eyes, waved a white flag and settled into the leather seat. Curiosity eclipsed my sadness. Warren got his way. Again.
A satisfied smirk curved Warren’s mouth. He slipped into the driver’s side and started the car, the engine turned, roaring to life. He still wasn’t wearing shoes. Where was he taking us? Life with Warren was never boring. I had to admit that. “Add manhandling to the ‘I hate’ list.” My suit of armor was back in place, all spiny and jagged edged. I tucked the miserable part of myself away. I’d let her come out again soon, sometime in the dark, while I was alone.
“Noted,” Warren said, shifting gears and backing out of the garage.
“Where are we going?” I asked, wiggling my toes against the black carpet, wiping my nose on the sleeve of Warren’s flannel that I wore.
“I’m proving to you that I don’t give a shit about your money.” Warren turned up the music, a metal band. I rolled down my window, letting in the fresh air and heat.
We drove for twenty minutes until we reached downtown L.A. My breath caught in my throat as we pulled into an underground parking garage labeled: Law Office of Bernard and Shaw. Warren parked and jumped out of the car, rounded it and opened my door.
Crossing my arms, I refused to budge. “I’m not going in there. So you can just get back in the car, turn around and take me home.”
“It warms my heart hearing you call my house a home, baby.” Warren reached across and unbuckled my seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” I slapped at his hands.
He pulled back. “Ouch, fuck, Addy. That really stings.”
“I’m really going to make you hurt if you don’t get back in this car right now!” I yelled.
Hands on hips, Warren said, “No can do, baby. I’m proving my love to you right now.” I was unceremoniously lifted and slung over his shoulders.
“Dammit, Warren.” I slapped his ass.
“Jesus, Addy, you know I like it rough, but not in public places. Okay, maybe sometimes in public places.” He carried me to an elevator and punched the up arrow on the panel.
I wiggled against his hold. “This isn’t funny, War. Put me down. I don’t want to be out in public half-dressed.”
We entered the elevator. The doors shut and Warren pressed the twentieth floor button. His hold let up. I slid down his body. He maneuvered me into a corner. Putting a hand to my cheek, he kissed me. Warmth blossomed in my stomach. His blue eyes met mine and sincerity shone in them. “Just give me this, baby. I know you don’t owe me anything but let me do this. I’m asking for thirty minutes tops, then you can go back to hating me.” I didn’t hate him. I wished I could. I hated how he made me feel. Lovesick. Hurt. Unwanted.
The elevator dinged, cracking open on the fifteenth floor. A woman with gray hair pulled in a tight bun chortled, her hands going to the pearls at her necklace. “I’ll catch the next one.”
“Good idea,” Warren said. He side punched the elevator panel until the doors closed, and we were climbing back up. He turned back to me. “What do you say? You going to give me the time, or am I going have to put you over my shoulder again?”
I ground my teeth. “Thirty minutes, War. Then I’m calling the F.B.I. and reporting you for kidnapping.”
Warren dipped his chin. “Fair enough.”
The elevator dinged again, the doors opening on the twentieth floor. A sleek office greeted us. People dressed in grey and black business suits milled about. All stopped when we emerged, gazes arrested on Warren’s and my half-dressed states. I felt a flush creep up my neck and into my cheeks.
“Mr. Price.” A young woman scurried forward. Her blonde hair was twisted in a neat chignon. I ran my fingers through my own tangled locks. She smiled nervously. “I wasn’t aware you had an appointment with Mr. Shaw.”
“Hey, Angela. I don’t,” Warren said, linking his fingers with mine. “But I need to see him.”
Angela’s hands twittered at her sides. “Of course. I’ll just let him know you’re here.”
“No need,” Warren said, pulling me along, my bare feet leaving ghostly imprints on the shiny, tiled floor. “I know the way.”
“Please, Mr. Price—” she yelled after him.
“Add rude to the list,” I said, scurrying to keep up with his long strides. I glanced over my shoulder and mouthed a silent apology to Angela, who stood immobile in the hall. She gave me a brittle smile.
“Noted, baby.”
We stopped outside a set of fogged glass doors. Warren pushed them open and ushered me through.
A deep baritone voice boomed upon our entrance. “Angela, I said no interruptions.” I hid partially behind Warren’s big body, letting him shield me from the wrathful attorney.
“Sorry, Steve. This couldn’t wait,” Warren said, rocking back on his heels.
The silver-haired attorney’s mouth gaped open. “Warren?” he asked. His eyes ran from Warren’s toes to his unbuttoned jeans to his wrinkled shirt.
“Yeah. My girl here thinks I married her for money. And I couldn’t let her go thinking that any more. I want you to draw up a contract stating that in the very unlikely event of a divorce, I won’t take a dime from her.” Warren glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Also maybe put a clause in there that she’ll get a settlement of a million dollars if we ever separate or divorce.”
I choked and poked Warren in his back. A million dollars?
“You’re right, baby,” Warren said, responding to my touch. “A million isn’t enough. Make it ten million.”
Steve’s mouth closed on a frown. “As your attorney I have to advise you against this.”
“Appreciate it,” Warren said.
Steve nodded and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I assume you’re Addison Wanks.”
“Price,” Warren corrected. “Her last name is Price.”
Ignoring the comment, I stepped around Warren, tugging his shorts down on my thighs. I shook Steve’s hand. “Please call me Addy,” I said.
Steve’s handshake was firm, confident. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet in person.”
“I can’t imagine Warren’s had anything kind to say about me the last few years,” I said sheepishly, thinking of how I’d plagued him with divorce papers, nasty notes and pawn shop slips.
Steve arched a silver brow. “Can’t you? He said you were stubborn and spirited. Two things I can personally attest to, as I handled all those lovely divorce packages you sent. You know, it’s not easy stalling divorce proceedings.” Steve’s chest puffed out. “It takes a special type of attorney. Now why don’t you two have a seat and we’ll discuss this ten-million-dollar contract.” He gestured at two sleek leather chairs positioned in front of a glass desk. Steve circled around the desk, sat and scribbled something down a legal pad.
Warren slumped into a chair and I followed, the leather cool on my thighs. My cheeks heated again as I remembered I was only semi-dressed. Were it possible, my whole body would have burst into flame from the embarrassment. This was made worse when Warren’s hand whipped out and dragged my chair closer to his. His large palm landed on my bare thigh.
Steve addressed Warren. “I’m assuming the ten-million payout will be nulled by second-party actions.” His pen poised above the pad.
“English, Steve. Say it in English,” Warren commanded. Rude again. I poked his bicep. Warren’s face scrunched up. “Ouch, Addy. You’re going to give Steve the wrong idea. He’s going to think you’re not desperately in love with me.” He grinned and winked at Steve, whose head had popped up from the legal pad. “She is, you know. Can’t get enough of me.”
“I’m sure, Warren,” Steve said drily. “Now about second-party actions. What I meant was that the ten-million payout would be voided should Addy…” Steve paused and turned to me. “Please pardon my frankness.” I bit my cheek and nodded once. His attention returned to Warren. “The ten-million payout would be voided should Addy commit infidelity.”
I sucked in an uneasy breath. Infidelity. The word felt so big in the spacious office. I’d never cheated on Warren. Unless you counted the teensy little kiss I’d shared with Gabe. It totally didn’t count. So why did it feel like I’d been kicked in the gut?
Warren shook his head. “No infidelity clauses.”
“War, maybe you should think about this,” I prodded. The heaviness of the situation began to bear down on me. I didn’t want this responsibility. I didn’t want Warren’s money.
“No can do, baby. I’m proving my love to you.” Warren’s mouth set in a firm line. “And I know you’d never cheat on me.”
Steve’s eyes bounced back and forth between us. “Okay, then. No infidelity clause. Just a flat fee of ten million if you two ever part ways, no matter the reason?”
Warren nodded. My stomach churned. I recognized the feeling now. Guilt. My hands flexed and unflexed, my palms suddenly sweaty. “I kissed Gabe,” I blurted. It felt better saying it, but then I wanted to throw up. The room stilled. All eyes were on me, and they were not kind.
Very carefully, Steve set his pen down and rose from his chair. Buttoning his suit jacket, he said, “I’m just going to give you two a few minutes alone.” He squeezed Warren’s shoulder and left. A whole minute passed. I know because I counted all sixty of the seconds.
“War.” My voice was a tiny squeak.
Warren’s hands balled into fists. A muscle popped in his jaw. His eyes flashed to mine, burning and dark. “When?” he asked, tone demanding and abrasive.
“You have no right to be upset,” I said, raising my chin. “It happened while we were separated.” My lips quivered. I should be honest. Tell him that it didn’t mean anything. That it didn’t feel the same as when he kissed me—like worlds colliding or stars being torn apart. But I couldn’t make myself that vulnerable again. Everything seemed so uncertain.
Warren’s lip turned up. “Excuse me. I have no right to be upset?” He pounded the arm of his chair. “That motherfucker has always wanted you. Even when we were good, married and traveling, he was always calling, emailing, getting in the way. And don’t forget Billy thinks you two are dating again. The fact that he took your virginity when it should have been mine—” Various growly sounds and other unhappy noises erupted from Warren.
I sprang from the chair and rounded on Warren. In an instant, I’d switched from defensive to offended. “You get this straight, Warren Price. My virginity didn’t belong to anyone except for me.” I poked him in the chest. “Who I had sex with before we were together is none of your business. And quite frankly, who I kissed while we were separated is none of your business either.”
Warren’s jaw fell open. “There was more than one?”
My brow dipped, the wind temporarily sucked from my angry sails. “More than one what?”
“Guy you kissed while we were separated?”
I slapped a palm against my forehead, prayed for patience. “No, Warren. I kissed Gabe and it was only once.”
Warren was silent for a moment. Then his lips twitched into a half smile. “Gabe didn’t do it for you, did he?”
I groaned. “Add arrogant to the list.”
Warren rose from his chair, bringing his body flush with mine. “How come you kissed him, Addy?” His knuckles brushed my cheek.
My eyes fluttered closed and for some reason, tears formed in them. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You want to know what I think? Why you kissed him?”
“No,” I said. I really, really didn’t. Because he’d probably be right.
“I think you kissed him because you missed me, because you were lonely. But you don’t need to be anymore. I’m here and I’m never going to leave you.” He was so right. I’d kissed Gabe in an effort to fill a void in my gaping heart. But Gabe was a poor substitute for the real thing.
I opened my eyes. A tear slipped down my cheek. Warren thumbed it off. “Your love always has conditions,” I said. “You want me to tell Billy about the marriage. You forbid me from calling Gabe. It feels like I have to choose. If I keep Billy, I’ll lose you. If I keep you, I’ll lose Billy.”
“Ah,” Warren said. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing under his tattooed throat. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry about Gabe and Billy. I’m a jealous asshole.”
I placed a hand over his heart. “My asshole,” I said. Warren smiled and chuckled. Then I burst out laughing and buried my face in his chest. “That didn’t sound the way I meant it to,” I said, voice muffled. “I don’t trust you,” I admitted.
He tugged on my hair. I looked up. “I understand. And you’ll never know how sorry I am about that. I’m going to do everything in my power so you do again.”
He kissed me, tongue tracing the seam of my lips, begging entrance. I obliged. His arms were like steel bands around me. I trembled. He moved us forward, bending me back, and I felt the cold of Steve’s glass desk against my thighs.
“Ahem.” Another voice in the office had me shoving at my husband’s chest. But Warren stayed firm, plastered against me, hands digging into my hips, refusing to let go. And I knew now Warren had me. He had me locked down tight.
“That you, Steve?” he asked, never taking his half-lidded eyes off me. I couldn’t see anything but Warren’s massive body.
“Yep, it’s me. I take it you two made up?” the attorney asked.
“Sure did. I told Addy no hanky-panky in your office, but she insisted.” He shot a grin and a wink my way.
“Have you made any decisions about the divorce or ten-million-dollar clause?” Steve asked.
“We’ll keep the clause. But lose the divorce talk. We’re staying married,” Warren said, leaning forward to nuzzle my neck.
At the same time, I said, “We’re just taking it one day at a time for now.”