Chapter Twelve

Elliot

I open my eyes at eight thirty. I’ve slept in—it’s Saturday, and Nonny doesn’t have school today.

I turn my head and look at my wife. She’s sleeping, curled up on her side, one light little hand on my chest. Her hair spills on the pillow like ruby-colored silk, and her mouth is soft and pink.

My cock twitches and starts to unfurl. I want her again, despite having taken her three times last night. It seems like my body just won’t quit when she’s around. I crave her over and over.

Unable to help myself, I run my hand lightly along the smooth convexity of her thigh and hip. She sighs softly and burrows deeper into me.

I let out a quiet breath. As much as I want her, she probably needs more sleep. I noticed she hasn’t been sleeping well the past few days.

Silently, I slip out of bed, do my morning ritual of showering and brushing my teeth, and go to the office with a cup of coffee. Nonny’s not up yet. She’ll probably sleep in till noon.

I sit at my desk and tap the smooth wood. Belle told me some of the story, but not all. I’m certain the stuff between her and Dennis amounts to more than just a few years of dysfunctional dating.

Then she distracted me with sex. Not that I didn’t want to be distracted, and it’s extra good when she puts her mind to it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget why I started the inquiry about the intern in the first place.

Besides, she kept defending him, like what he did was okay. I’m not okay with it, and I’m certainly not okay with the way the very idea of that fucking intern near my wife burns my gut.

FOLLOW THE MONEY.

What would that reveal? Would it be damaging to my wife or the intern?

My instinct is to ignore the message, but I hate secrets. I let my own willful blindness sabotage me with Annabelle Underhill because I figured it was only right that I respect her boundaries. It’s not going to happen a second time.

The hell with boundaries. If my wife has no skeletons in her closet, it won’t matter if I snoop around.

I pull out the envelope and study the pictures again. Something about them feels wrong, and my skin twitches like there are roaches crawling around on it. I dial Paddington. The man answers on the third ring.

“Elliot,” he says, his voice smooth. There’s some traffic noise in the background.

“I need you to do something.”

“Yes?”

“Look into my wife’s finances for the last two years.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “What am I looking for?”

“Anything unusual. And also dig into the same for a Dennis Dunn. He’s an intern at Omega Wealth Management.”

“Popular guy.”

“Yeah, Gavin’s looking into him.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny.

“I’m going to be sending you a couple of photos. See if you can figure out who took them.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“One more thing,” I say. “I want to know what kind of wild parties happened in my wife’s home town when she was around fifteen, and who attended them. Teenager parties.”

“Wild as in…?”

“Drinking. Probably skipping school. Pot, maybe other drugs.” I don’t know exactly what kind of stuff kids got into in her town, but I think that covers it.

“Am I looking for anything specific?”

“Something with lots of alcohol.”

“Understood. How soon do you need the info?”

“I’m going to be out of the country starting tomorrow. Honeymoon.”

“Congratulations,” Paddington says in the same voice he used to ask me “What am I looking for?”

“My wife and I will be gone for a week.”

“I understand. I’ll get on it as soon as possible, but I can’t guarantee anything about the parties.”

“Fine.”

“Expect my reports next week.”

He hangs up. I run my finger along my wife’s face in one of the pictures. The glass it was taken through has muted the bright fire of her hair, but the lovely lines of her neck and ears are unmistakable.

FOLLOW THE MONEY.

Yes, I will. And I’m going to destroy whoever is trying to drive a wedge between me and my wife.

* * *

Annabelle

Sipping my second cup of coffee, I watch Elliot swim in the pool. I love how his strong arms slice through the sun-sparkled water, and the way his muscles ripple and glisten. He does laps tirelessly, with the tenacity of a man eating an elephant.

I dig into my purse and pull out my phone to snap a photo. A card falls on the floor. It’s the one Traci gave me last night.

Bending at the waist, I pluck it off the smooth wooden plank and place it on the table in front of me. Just then Elliot is coming out of the pool, water streaming down his strong body in rivulets. I snap a photo and sigh. So much animal magnetism and attraction. My skin tightens with heat. The man should’ve been a model. He could’ve made his fortune shilling underwear.

I save the picture. I’m not sharing it with anybody. Even though it’s going to end in a year, in this moment, captured by my phone camera, he’s all mine.

“Are you snapping my pictures behind my back?” he calls out.

“Nope. In front of your stomach.” I hit the button again.

Laughing, he dries himself with a towel. “How come you don’t swim?”

“Because it’s more fun to watch you.” I give him a cheeky grin. “I used to swim in school, but it wasn’t really my thing. I only did it because my friends did.”

His gaze lands on the business card. “What’s that?”

“My friend’s contact info. The one I told you about yesterday.”

“Ah. Traci.”

“Yes.” I glance at the mobile number printed on the bottom. “I think I’m going to call and meet her today if I can, since we’re leaving tomorrow.”

He nods, not saying anything. His gaze is focused on a spot beyond the table.

I frown. “You all right?”

“Of course.”

“You seem distracted.”

“Nah. Just a few things on my mind.”

“A lot to do before our trip?”

“No, not really. It’s all been taken care of.”

“Then?”

“This and that. Don’t worry about it.” He gives me a smile, but it’s less than convincing.

I open my mouth, but my phone buzzes. I look at it. It’s a text from Caroline Wiseman, my former roommate. I haven’t seen or talked to her since I married Elliot and moved out.

We need to talk.

What an odd thing to say. I don’t know what there is to talk about. We didn’t have the best good-bye, to put it mildly. She was upset that I was moving out, and felt that I owed her somehow because—according to her—without her, I would’ve never met Elliot.

About what? I text back.

A few seconds later, she responds. Money.

I pause. There were three more months left on the lease when I moved out. But as far as I know that’s being paid. I turn to Elliot. “Isn’t your assistant taking care of my portion of the rent at my old apartment?”

“As far as I know, yes,” he says. “Why?”

“It’s my old roommate. She’s making it sound like she’s not getting anything.”

“Can’t be right. I go over my expenses, and it’s definitely on the line items.”

“Okay.” I look at my phone and start typing. Are you not getting my portion of the rent? I’ve been told it’s being taken care of.

That’s not the only thing.

Odd. What do you mean?

People want information.

My skin grows clammy. What kind of information?

Why don’t we talk about it? I don’t want anything out there that can embarrass you.

Then don’t talk to anyone, I respond.

A girl’s gotta eat and buy shoes.

“Are you all right?” Elliot asks, apparently having noted the scowl that I can feel giving me wrinkles before my time.

“Yeah. Just need to make a quick call.” I stand up and go inside. I know Elliot’s gaze is boring into my back, but I don’t want to talk to Caroline in front of him.

I drag in a few breaths. Information… Right. In order for information to be worth anything, someone has to be interested. But why would anyone want to know about me? My dad wasn’t that big as far as Ponzi schemers go.

Whatever Caroline’s planning, I don’t want any part of it. I’m going to nip it in the bud before she gets any more crazy schemes up her sleeve, or tries to drag Nonny into the mess like she’s threatened to before.

My old roommate picks up the phone immediately.

“Okay, you owe me,” she says without preamble.

“For what?”

“For not selling you out. I have offers.”

I roll my eyes. “Get real. Who would pay for information about me?”

“A lot of people.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah. Because you have no offers.”

She snorts. “In case you forgot, you just married Elliot Reed, who is half-brother to Ryder Reed. Your husband is definitely a celebrity, sort of, which makes people curious. Don’t you check social media?”

“No.” I don’t do social media anymore. There was no point after Nonny and I left Lincoln City.

“Well, you’re something of a minor celeb now.”

I rest my hand on the crook of the arm holding the phone to my ear. “And there’s the key word: minor.”

“But during a slow news week, even a minor celebrity is worth something.”

“Like what? A latte?”

“They’re going to give me ten grand.”

I choke. “I’m not that interesting. I don’t buy it.” Before she can come up with more outrageous crap, I add, “And definitely no to paying you ten grand.”

“You’ll be sorry.”

“I’d be sorrier if I paid you because that would make me an idiot.”

“I know a lot about you, Annabelle…”

“Like what? You think you know because you lived with me for several months, but when did you actually talk to me? You were always busy partying and bringing guys over and doing your part-time job.” I shudder. “We said hi maybe once a week?”

“You came out of the cake! That’s how you met Elliot.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. That wasn’t the first time I met him, not that I’m going into that. It’s none of her business.

“Just imagine how the story’s going to embarrass him and his family. Ryder’s wife had a sex tape not too long ago. Do you think your husband is going to be okay with this scandal out there? Or Nonny?” She tsks. “What will her friends say?”

My molars grind together. She went too far, threatening to humiliate Elliot and his family. And how dare she drag my baby sister into the mess? “Caroline, I was subbing for you. It was your job. You are the one who told me you didn’t want your parents to know. If you mention it to other people, I’ll have no choice but to let everyone know it was actually your job, and I’ll make sure to send a link to that article to your parents.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” I say, doing my best to infuse the steely authority Elliot employs when he wants to make a point.

“You fucking bitch! You think you can talk to me like this and get away with it?”

“I think I just did. Don’t ever threaten me or try to blackmail me again.” I hang up and toss the vibrating phone on the bed like it’s a hissing snake.

My hands and legs start shaking, and I take a deep breath and sit in one of the armchairs. I can’t believe I just did that! I’m not used to confronting people, especially after my father was disgraced. I’ve never used such an authoritative tone, either…although from the way Caroline went nuts I don’t think I really sounded very hard, the way Elliot can.

The door opens, and Elliot walks in. A white towel is draped over his yummy shoulders. One look at my face, and his eyes sharpen. “You okay?” He comes over and puts a hand on my arm.

“I’m fine.” I giggle. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You look a little shaky.”

“It’s nothing.” I lean into him, absorbing the warmth of his smooth skin. “Just taking care of some minor business. Nothing serious.” I inhale his scent—all clean and male with a hint of chlorine from the pool.

“Okay.” He runs a hand along my hair.

I close my eyes. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pull him closer, pressing my cheek against his stomach.

Maybe Caroline’s right that I’m a fucking bitch, but I’d rather be that than let her hurt Elliot. Keeping him safe from harm has become important. I don’t want to see shadows in his eyes, and I worry how he might see me if he finds out about all the stupid stuff I’ve done. He already knows too much.