The goddamn weekend is finally here. I barely made it through the week with having Bridget as my assistant. Lucky for me, I gave her so much work she barely had time to breathe, let alone seek me out. You’d think after the hell I’ve been through, I’d be excited to be home, but right now thinking about seeing Chelsea I dread it even more than I dread seeing Bridget at work. But I’m home, so I should probably walk in instead of dragging my feet. There’s no way around it. Seeing Chelsea is a necessary evil. Isabella is in there, and she needs her father as much as I need her.
“Baby, you’re making me hot,” Chelsea’s voice croons into her phone. “Say it again.”
I peak around the corner to see Chelsea laid back on the couch picking at her nails. If her head were turned toward me, I’d probably see her rolling her eyes at whoever is on the other line. Chelsea hates phone sex or any sort of foreplay at all. She’s just a big fucking tease, and my guess is she’s got the poor sucker on the other line eating out of the palm of her hand. I know too well how easily one can be taken by Chelsea’s games. Poor bastard. I’m just glad she’s not my problem anymore.
She’s your biggest problem.
I cringe at the truth in those words.
Striding toward my whore of a wife, I stop dead in my tracks when I see our daughter playing at her feet, listening to every fucking horrible word her mother utters. My blood heats in anger.
“You want me, come get me,” Chelsea says, scrunching her nose in disgust at her own words. She looks up at me, unfazed at being caught in the act. “Baby, I’ve got to run,” she says while looking me straight in the eye.
The fucking nerve of this woman.
“I’m sorry. You go take care of that and think of me.” She grins at me as though I give a shit about her games. I don’t. I couldn’t care less about whatever guy she’s fucking behind my back now. It’s the fact that she’s doing it in front of our daughter that has me livid.
“Hello, darling. How was your day?”
“Daddy,” Isabella says. “You’re here.” I look down at her on the floor and plaster on my fakest smile. No need to show her how angry I am.
“Hi, baby girl. Play with your dolls. Mommy and I are going to have a talk.”
“Okay,” she says, going back to her toys.
“Get up, Chelsea. Don’t make me move you myself,” I say as quietly as I can, not wanting to scare our child.
She rolls her eyes but stands to follow me.
When we’re out of earshot of Isabella, I lay into her. “Are you fucking kidding me? You have the nerve to do that in my house?” I roar.
“Did that bother you?” Her lips tip up in a cat-like smile.
“I couldn’t care less about you. It’s not like it’s the first time. How many times has it been, Chelsea?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know. If you don’t care, then stop asking questions.”
“Oh, I don’t. This marriage has been over for a long time.”
“Yes, it has,” she snips. “This is a marriage of convenience, and that’s all. I’d be happy to leave.”
“Please. Do us both a favor and get the hell out.”
“I could,” she draws, “but you and I both know what that means for you. So, Grant, what will it be?” She trails her perfectly sculpted nails down my chest. I know what she’s implying. The threat of her taking Isabella from me hangs heavy in the air.
“Stay for all I care then. But don’t pretend you want Isabella. You continue to prove that all she is to you is a pawn. You don’t love her. You only love yourself.”
“Have it your way. But don’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck,” she spits, turning to storm out of the room.
What the hell did I get myself into when I married her? My pride has done nothing but fuck me over royally. When will I ever learn?
The weekend crept by in a slow drawl. I couldn’t wait to get back to work. Normally I would have been at the hotel, especially since we’re opening to the public soon, but after Chelsea’s neglect, I took the weekend to be with Isabella. Now it’s Monday, and I’m back. I’d like to say I’ve been hard at work, but that would be a lie. Instead, I’ve sat here for hours thinking about nothing but her. When I walked in this morning all pissed about life, I took it out on Bridget, screaming, barking orders. The girl must think I’m a complete nutjob. Have I always been so horrible? Now I can’t help replay each moment since she started working for me. The way her nose crinkles in frustration whenever I challenge her. The way she breathes deeply trying to stave off the words I know she wants to say but doesn’t dare for the sake of her job. Fuck. She’s exquisite when she’s pissed, and I’m doing a bang-up job making her nothing but. I can’t help it. Being an asshole is the easiest way to keep her at arm’s length. If she gets too close, I’ll cave. The flowery smell of her hair, the mint on her breath, I’ll come undone.
Instead, I need to focus on the task at hand. I have a mound of paperwork to work through, and so far I’ve been staring at the same document for over an hour. Fuck. This distraction isn’t good for business. I can’t focus on legal docs, so I place it to the side and pick up the folder from my investigator.
I’ve hired someone to keep an eye on Chelsea and retrieve all her passcodes for me. I’m monitoring her company phone records, emails—anything to catch her in the act so I can build a case to throw her out on her ass. It seems like a good plan, but at the end of the day, I know it’s worthless. She has me by the balls. I’d do anything for our daughter, and she knows it.
All I’m really doing is keeping an eye on her involvement where my family is concerned. If I’m two steps ahead of her, she can’t really do too much damage, can she? I think that thought too soon. As I’m looking through the email logs, I stop short when I see an email to Karen, Bridget’s recruiter.
Hello, Chelsea,
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I haven’t spoken to Olivia Miller in some time, but she finally called today. From our conversation, it would appear she is not aware that Bridget has been placed with The L, and I can assure you the news of her working directly with Grant would not come as good news.
To follow up on our conversation regarding The Lancaster, they are currently seeking a new marketing director for their European market. I don’t know what they are looking to do, but they are looking for someone with a very impressive résumé. Whatever they have planned, it’s big.
I hope the tip helps. Looking forward to drinks soon.
Best,
Karen
I will myself to calm down. The worst thing that could happen is me snapping at the office. I’ve never put my hands on a woman, but I’d make an exception for her. She never fucking stops.