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Her Fantasy Husband (Things to Do Before You Die) by Nina Croft (14)

Chapter Fourteen

When Lexi woke the next morning, she was alone.

Josh hadn’t come back last night. Had he gone home or somewhere else?

She’d tried to get hold of him to tell him that he was off the hook, and that her lawyer was looking into the quickest way to sever the knots that bound them.

Sally had told her Josh had left the office and she had no clue where he’d gone. Lexi had called his home number and his cell but gotten no response.

She tried to feel cheerful. Now she could start to live. Date even.

In some ways she’d been in limbo for the last few years. Her whole adult life, in fact. Except it hadn’t felt like that. She’d loved her life for the last five years. She was guessing that at eighteen she wouldn’t have been ready for relationships. She’d been very naive for her age. This time had given her a chance to grow up, to understand what she really wanted out of life.

Thank you, Josh.

What she wanted from a man.

An image of Josh naked flashed up in her mind, and she pushed it back.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

She huffed out a breath and then crawled out of bed and into the shower. She was wearing one of Josh’s T-shirts because she hadn’t been able to find any clean pajamas last night. And who was she kidding?

Loser.

She’d wanted to feel close to him. Now she dragged it over her head and stuffed it in the bottom of the laundry basket so he’d hopefully miss it when he came to pick up his stuff.

Not that he’d made a lot of clutter. He was so tidy. Everything in its place.

How could she fall in love with someone that tidy?

He was an aberration.

No, she was definitely better off without him.

She dressed in jeans, a tank top, and flip flops. She didn’t have to go into the office today, but she did have to confront her grandmother. Just the thought made her tired, but it would be good to not have to worry anymore. She couldn’t wait to get over her broken heart so she could really appreciate her newfound freedom.

But she wasn’t holding her breath.

When she came down the stairs, she passed the open living room door on her way to the kitchen…then backtracked to look again.

That hadn’t been there when she went to bed last night.

She tiptoed to the open door. One of the most beautiful men she had ever seen lay fast asleep on her couch. A complete stranger. He wore gray pants and a white silk shirt, which accentuated his olive skin. His hair was midnight black, perfectly cut, and thick black lashes lay across his cheeks. He had high cheekbones, a straight nose and full lips, and a scar ran from his left eye down over his cheek, giving him an air of mystery and danger. And there was a chicken perched on his chest.

She shook her head, and then a noise from across the room dragged her attention from the Adonis sleeping on her couch. Josh lay on the matching sofa. He didn’t have a chicken, but he did have a cat on his chest and a dog sprawled across his feet. His eyes were open, slightly narrowed, and he was watching her.

He’d come back.

She tiptoed across and perched on the edge of the sofa beside him, stroking the cat’s head—she purred beneath her fingertips—because she needed to do something with her hands. Hands which were itching to reach out and stroke Josh.

“Did you have a good night?”

His eyes narrowed even further but he didn’t speak.

“Is that your friend?” She nodded at the unconscious man opposite her. He was all right, wasn’t he? She stared a bit longer until she caught the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Josh opened his mouth, cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’s Vito.”

“He’s…stunning.” She hadn’t meant to say that; it had just fallen out. But it wasn’t often you got up to find sleeping beauty on your sofa. But she did realize she might have been less than diplomatic. “Not as stunning as you, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Josh said drily. “Vito owned the cruise ship that sank. You could say he’s to blame for all this.”

Presumably by “all this,” he meant having to spend time with her. She decided not to grace the comment with an answer.

He slid his feet out from under the dog, gave the cat a gentle push so she jumped to the floor, then sat up and groaned. “Jesus. My head hurts.”

“Hangover?”

He didn’t deign to reply, just pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Coffee and painkillers?”

He gave her a small smile. “Please.”

“Then we have to talk.”

“We do.”

“Don’t worry. It’s good news.”

She got up and headed for the door, scooping up Prudence as she left. Vito groaned and rolled onto his side.

She made a pot of coffee, dug some painkillers out of the drawer, and put everything on a tray. Jean came in as she was leaving. “Did you know the lounge is full of beautiful men?”

Lexi nodded but didn’t stop to talk about it. She carried the tray into the sitting room and put it on the coffee table between the two sofas. Josh had disappeared and the other man was lying on his back, his arm flung over his face, his legs hanging off the edge. He had to be at least six-foot-three, long and lean.

Josh appeared at that moment. He’d clearly splashed water on his face; his hair was damp at the edges. He still wore the suit trousers from yesterday and his shirt was wrinkled. He nudged the sleeping man in the shoulder as he passed.

“Vito, you lazy bastard, time to wake up.”

“Piss off,” the other man mumbled.

Josh raised a brow but took a seat next to Lexi.

A minute later, Vito’s arm dropped, and his eyes opened. He caught sight of Lexi and sat up quickly, wincing.

Mi scusi, signorina. I didn’t know we had company.”

“This is my wife, Lexi,” Josh said.

The dark eyes studied her for a long moment. “Ah, much becomes clear.”

Not to her it didn’t. She handed out painkillers and coffee and sat watching the two of them.

The coloring was completely different, Josh golden while the other man was dark. Everything about Vito screamed wealth, from his immaculately cut hair to his perfectly manicured fingers. But despite the obvious differences, they both gave off an air of assurance, as though they knew they were better than everyone else and had nothing to prove.

She felt totally intimidated, between the two of them. They were so…perfect.

She waited while they both finished another cup without speaking. She was guessing last night had been a heavy drinking session—had Josh been drowning his sorrows? Had he been bemoaning to his friends the fact that his crazy mess of a wife had inconveniently fallen in love with him? Vito clearly knew something about her.

Finally, they both put their cups down.

“You mind if I go wash up?” Vito asked Lexi.

“Of course. The bathroom is across the hall, the blue door.”

Grazie.”

Once he was gone, Lexi turned back to Josh. He regarded her warily, like he expected her to leap on top of him and profess her undying love. She took a sip of her own coffee, but it was cool and she placed it back on the tray.

Come on, Lexi, give the poor man his freedom. Let him off the hook.

But she couldn’t get the words out.

“You said we needed to talk.” Josh finally broke the silence. “What’s happened? Is your grandmother causing trouble?”

“No, I told you—it’s good news.” She licked her lips. “Uncle Jamie came to see me yesterday.”

“The colonel? What did he want?”

“He said you’d suggested that he get an audit of my trust fund. The years when grandmother had control.”

He frowned. “I’d forgotten I mentioned it. And did he?”

She nodded. “Yes, and apparently she’d been helping herself to quite a lot. He gave me the proof.”

“Are you going to lock her sorry ass up?”

“Of course I’m not. She’s my grandmother.”

“You’re a nicer person than me, Lexi Slater. But then I’ve known that from the start.”

“But I will show it to her and tell her to back off. That I’ll use it if she tries to interfere or get access to my money again.”

“Hmm, maybe you’d better let me do that. She knows you—probably won’t believe you’ll see it through.”

“She’ll believe me.” Now for the hard bit, though it would probably make Josh’s day. “You know what this means?”

“What?”

Was he being purposefully obtuse? “We don’t need to stay married.”

He’d been gazing somewhere over her left shoulder. Now his focus shot to her face. When he didn’t say anything, she hurried on. “Grandmamma won’t contest the trust.” Still he didn’t say anything, and she twisted her fingers on her lap while she waited for his response. Nothing.

“I talked with my lawyer yesterday,” she said. “He’s looking into the quickest way we can get the divorce. He doesn’t think it will take too long if neither of us contests. Josh, are you listening to me?”

“Of course.”

“Well, say something. I thought you’d be jumping for joy. There’s no need to stay here now. It doesn’t matter if Harry or Grandmamma knows the truth. And think—soon you’ll be able to go out and get all that no-strings sex.”

She sounded bitchy, but she felt bitchy, and why wasn’t he saying anything?

At that moment, Vito appeared in the open doorway. He glanced between the two of them. “I’ve phoned my driver,” he said. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.” He stepped into the room and came to a halt in front of Lexi. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

As he turned to go, Josh jumped to his feet. “Can you give me a lift? I left my car at the office.”

“Of course.”

She stiffened and stared at him. She wanted to shout that they needed to talk. But did they? Was there anything left to say? So she bit her lip and kept quiet.

Josh turned to her. “I’m glad everything has worked out for you.” He strode to the doorway as though he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “I’ll send someone over for my things.”

And he was gone. Just like that.

Vito stared down at her, one eyebrow raised. “Just tell yourself that he wouldn’t be running so fast if he didn’t care. And don’t give up on him.”

Then he was gone as well, leaving her alone and staring at the open doorway.

Maybe the problem was that he did care. If he didn’t, he would perhaps have stuck around, and they could have had a few months of no-strings sex and then parted amicably.

It didn’t matter; he was gone anyway.

Josh had had to leave.

Because he had no clue what to do or say.

His head hurt, and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

He could walk away. He never needed to see her again.

Yesterday he’d told her that they needed distance, but at the same time he’d believed he would still see her every day. That they’d have months, and somehow he’d find a way to cope with the inevitable separation. But now it was here and he didn’t know how to cope.

Panic clawed at his guts. He remembered when he’d been shot in Afghanistan, remembered lying in the hot sand, waiting for them to come along and finish him off. He hadn’t felt as scared as he did now.

“Are you okay?” Vito asked from the seat beside him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can you let me out here?”

Vito spoke to the driver and the vehicle slowed and pulled over.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Come back to the hotel with me. We’ll get some breakfast…”

“No. I’m good. I need some fresh air, that’s all.”

“Okay.” He opened the door. “By the way, I like your wife.”

“So do I,” Josh said as he climbed out.

He had no idea where he was, and he just started moving. He hit the river and walked along the embankment, breathing in the salty tang. He had no sense of where he was going until he glanced up and recognized the tower block where he had spent his childhood.

This place was a world away from Hampstead Heath. Growing up, he hadn’t even realized places like that existed. He sat on a wall facing the building and counted up the windows, finding the eighth floor and the apartment he’d lived in until he was seventeen. The curtains were different; no doubt someone had moved in. Probably the place had changed hands numerous times. You didn’t stay here longer than necessary if you could get out. Like his mother had gotten out, leaving him and Evie behind.

He’d never been back in the years since. Why would he? He was happy to put the whole fucking memory behind him.

The place held an air of depression, the gray walls scattered with graffiti, the patches of grass threadbare. A group of kids were playing football under a weak sun. Any one of them could have been him fifteen years ago.

What the hell chance would these kids have to get out of this place? Maybe losing Evie had done him some good. Maybe he’d still be here, doing God knows what, if she hadn’t been taken from him. Maybe they’d both won in the end.

Except he didn’t feel like he’d won. He felt like his heart was cracked in two all over again. He had a longing to sit in Lexi’s warm kitchen. He didn’t even mind the people or the animals. He’d gotten used to them. He’d even grown fond of the chicken. He hated mess and chaos, but he’d come to love Lexi’s house, probably because it was the first real home he’d ever lived in. Hell, the thought of going back to his sterile apartment made him want to weep.

He’d never cried in his life. Well, only the once, when he’d finally accepted that he’d lost Evie and was never getting her back.

The kids had stopped playing now. They were loitering, lighting up, passing a bottle between them. A group of girls joined them, with short skirts and dyed blonde hair. They couldn’t be older than eleven or twelve. He wanted to go over and knock some sense into them. That might have been Evie if she hadn’t got out of here.

Maybe he could get Lexi to set up one of her charities. He could help. Somehow give them a chance to escape this life. At least let them see there were other things out there.

“What you staring at, mister? You some sort of pervert?”

He glanced down to see one of the boys glaring up at him, a blank, hostile look in his young eyes. “I used to live here”—he waved a hand—“in that apartment over there.”

“And you came back? You crazy?”

He grinned. “Just feeling nostalgic.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Look it up.”

He jumped off the wall, gave the building one last glance, and strode away. There was no going back. But maybe he could go forward. The first step was understanding where he wanted to be.

A vision of Lexi flashed through his mind, followed by a long ago memory of Evie, blond-haired and blue-eyed and super-cute, holding her arms out to him. He pulled out his phone and did a search for the number of the local social services, then punched it in.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. My sister was adopted eleven years ago. She’ll be eighteen now. I want to know how I go about contacting her.”

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