I couldn’t let it go. I tossed and turned all night, and it wasn’t because of Tessa and Cody’s flirting. It was the Miles thing. I’d spent hours trying to reconcile everything, and when the sun rose, I was still right where I started.

At just after six in the morning, someone decided to lean on my doorbell, which was enough to have me out of bed and storming though my house. If this was my brother’s idea of a sick joke, I’d kick his ass. Then I’d kick his ass again for not telling me about Miles.

Exhausted, angry, and out of patience, I ripped my front door open and then froze.

“You changed the lock?” Camryn glared, shaking her head. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was going to allow you back into my life,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open knowing she’d follow. She slammed it behind her, and I stilled in my steps, turning around. “I don’t expect you to respect me, but at the very least, respect my house.”

“Right, because you can’t afford a new door or doorframe.”

“That isn’t the point, Camryn.” I set the coffee to brew. “What do you want?”

“What? A wife can’t visit her husband?” She set her oversized, overpriced bag on the counter and batted her eyelashes.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter as I waited for the coffee to brew. Her gaze fell over my naked torso and heated with lust. This wasn’t new, and I’d been effectively batting her away for nearly four years, something I’d been proud of because if nothing else the woman could turn a man inside out with her advances.

“What do you want?” I asked again.

“I want to talk about this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder, no doubt the divorce papers she had yet to sign. “Why now?”

“Because I have things I need to do, and I can’t continue to be stuck in this state of limbo. What do you care? The contract is up soon.”

The original contract was up soon, but she’d added in some terms of her own into the prenuptial: if we made it five years or longer, she’d get to keep shares of Hawthorne Industries and because she’d seen the growth the company had, she wanted to cash in on those terms. I’d let it slide before because there was no chance of me meeting another woman I’d want to be serious with. I’d been too busy with the company and my brother’s health to care. The other times I’d asked Camryn for a divorce were the times I’d seen the light or Tessa, sometimes both at once.

I asked for a divorce the week after we got married. I asked again the day after I saw a pregnant Tessa at the conference and again when I saw her a year after that. It seemed she was always at the center of my need for freedom. This time, it was different. This time, I needed Camryn out of my life before the papers for the Hawthorne takeover went through. If she even caught a whiff of what I was doing with the company, she’d never retract her claws, and that was something I couldn’t afford. Not with my plans to buy out other companies before the end of the year.

“We still have six months before you’re allowed to file. Those were the terms we agreed on,” Camryn pointed out, lifting an eyebrow.

“I’m done waiting.”

“Why now?” she asked again.

Miles’s name came fluttering into my head. Miles, the three-year-old little boy who could very well be my son. I shook the thought away. If he was, why was Cody Maverick pawing her swollen belly? Had he been there when she gave birth? Had he been the first one to look my child in the eyes? And where was Samson during all of this? I tried to excuse my brother. He’d been battling brain cancer, for God’s sake, but still. A baby. Possibly my baby. I’d never really considered what it would be like to be a father, but the possibility of having that with Tessa didn’t seem so bad. I was getting ahead of myself.

“Ro,” Camryn snapped.

I turned around and poured some coffee into a mug, paused, sighed, and then reached for a second one. It would be rude of me not to give her some. Hell, maybe it would make her less of a bitch to deal with. I turned, slid a mug to her, and put my elbows on the counter, holding my own warm mug in my hands. She was still obviously checking me out. In times like these, I wondered what her Wall Street boyfriend looked like. Not enough to look him up, but still.

“I need you to sign the papers,” I said calmly. “That’s all. You act like you want to spend the rest of your life tied down to me or something.”

“You act like that isn’t an option.”

“You—” I stopped myself from reminding her how she’d thrown plates and silverware at me the last time she was here. I needed to stay calm while I dealt with her. “What makes you think it is?”

“I don’t know. The fact that I agreed to this ridiculous arrangement is a testament that I don’t think us being married is as outlandish as you seem to think.”

“Says the woman who spent ninety percent of this marriage with another man.”

“Out of necessity.” She glanced away. “What am I supposed to do if my own husband won’t touch me?”

“I don’t think touching or not touching has anything to do with it. You were with him before we signed that contract.”

“I left him when I signed it.” Her eyes flashed. “I left him for nearly a year, hoping I could be enough for you, but all you did was mope and then fuck other women. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about that?”

“I honestly didn’t care.” I didn’t bother correcting her or telling her that her assumptions about me were wrong. There was no point.

“At first, I thought it had to do with Tessa, but it was clear that she was out of your life.”

My heart seemed to freeze. “How would you know?”

“You changed your number. Changed your email.” She shrugged. “If she were around, you would’ve probably tried to get these papers sooner.” She picked up the folder and waved it around. I said nothing. I didn’t want to jeopardize my chance of her signing and getting it over with.

“I don’t want to sign the papers,” she continued. “I want to try to make this work.”

“No. What is it that you really want? More money?”

She glanced away again. “I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out, have your attorney jot it down, and send it to mine. We don’t need to discuss this.”

“I feel like we do.”

I set my mug down with a clunk. “It’s happening. Whether you want to believe it or not, it’s happening.”

On that note, she picked up her bag and stomped out of the kitchen and my house, slamming the door even harder than she had when she walked in.