Chapter 22

SAM

A FEW minutes before midnight, I rode the elevator up to our condo. Darkness couched the foyer. I paused to drop my briefcase near the front door, kicked off my shoes, and continued toward the stairs. My body hummed with exhaustion and hunger. Three days of back-to-back meetings, planes, and strange hotels had kicked my ass. More and more, I missed Dakota. I wanted to be home, not on the other side of the country, eating dinner with people I didn’t know or care about. My place was here, with her and our impending family.

A warm glow of yellow light gleamed beneath the kitchen door. I veered toward it. Unfamiliar with the layout of furniture, I stubbed my toe on the corner of a chest. I cursed under my breath and hobbled through the swinging door.

Dakota sat at the breakfast bar alongside Chandler. My gaze traveled from the half-eaten plates of food to Dakota’s hand on top of Chandler’s. They turned to face me. Uncontrollable anger stole my common sense. Chandler jumped to his feet.

Dakota’s face brightened. She hopped off the barstool and flung her arms around my neck. “You’re home,” she said and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Yes.” I unpeeled her arms from my neck and took a step back to put some space between us. “Unexpectedly, it seems.”

“Sam.” Dakota’s eyebrows slammed together.

“You two probably want to be alone. I’ll head back to my room. Thanks for the food, Mrs. Seaforth.” Chandler stood then carried his plate to the sink before slipping out of the room.

Dakota turned to face me, hands on her hips. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“I didn’t expect to come home after a helluva day to find my wife holding hands with the help.” My voice echoed off the aged wood ceiling beams. The joints of my fingers ached from being clenched into fists.

“Calm down. We were just having a bite to eat.” She tilted her nose in the air and walked toward the sink. “Serves you right for standing me up.”

I followed her. “I didn’t stand you up. Xavier called.”

“Right. Xavier called. Not you. You couldn’t even take two minutes out of your precious schedule to call me.” She scraped the leftovers into the garbage disposal.

“I would have—” Before I could finish the sentence, she flipped on the disposal. The growl of the machine drowned out my words. When it stopped, I said, “I would’ve called you myself, but—” She turned to face me and switched on the disposal again. We continued this way for a full minute. Every time I opened my mouth, she cut me off by firing up the appliance. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. “Are you done now?”

“No excuses, Seaforth. It was rude, and you know it.” One corner of her mouth twitched with either humor or irritation. I wasn’t sure which.

“It’s also rude to find my wife in a compromising position. In my kitchen. With another man.” I added the last bit hoping to strengthen my case, but she was having none of it. With a snort, she placed the dishes into the dishwasher and slammed the door shut.

“Now you’re just being an ass.” Following these finals words, Dakota turned off the lights and sashayed out of the room, leaving me alone in the dark.

I scrubbed a stunned hand over my face, frozen with astonishment. What the fuck was that? In my world, no one walked out in the middle of a conversation, especially when I was giving them hell. 

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.” My feet caught up to my brain and carried me down the hall after her.

“Don’t be a dick,” she replied.

My blood pressure, already soaring from seeing her hands on another man, skyrocketed a dozen more notches. She calmly climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. I trailed on her heels. Once inside, she walked to the bed, peeled back the comforter, and slipped between the sheets. I ran both hands through my hair in equal measures of exasperation and anger. My temper exploded when she switched off the lamp on the nightstand.

“I’m trying to have a conversation here,” I said and turned the lamp back on.

“This isn’t a conversation. This is you yelling at me for no reason.”

 “I want an explanation.”

After an exhausted sigh, she peeled back the covers and stood to face me. “Really, Sam? I mean, seriously? You think I was cheating on you with the security guy?”

“He had his hands on you.” A little of the steam behind my convictions slipped away. I narrowed my eyes, determined to hold my line of reasoning, knowing I was truly making an ass out of myself but unable to stop.

“I had my hand on his. Comforting him. Not feeling him up.” For the first time, her sober façade cracked. “He’s a very nice guy. He was injured in the line of duty. Did you know that?” 

“Is that what you like? Military guys?”

She bit her lower lip to hold back a smile. “You’re such a spoiled brat sometimes. You know good and well that neither of us did anything wrong.”

“I don’t know that.” I sat on the edge of the bed to pull off my socks. She cocked a hip and rested one hand on it. The muscles in my jaw tightened. “Okay, well, maybe I do. But it’s the principle of the matter.”

“I love it when you get jealous,” she said.

Heat burned my cheeks. The top of this gorgeous woman’s head barely reached my chin, but she could bust my balls better than any man. I fought to control my features even though the corners of my mouth kept turning up. I drew in a deep breath, unbuttoned my shirt, and gazed up at her.

“Damn straight I’m jealous.” In a sweep of my arms, I tugged her onto my lap. “You’re mine. Understand me? Mine. And I don’t want anyone touching this body but me.”

“You trust me, don’t you?” She trailed her fingers down my chest from sternum to navel. “You know I would never cheat on you. Not ever.”

“Of course.” Trust had been a huge issue with us in the beginning, and the reason for our first divorce. Shame whispered over me, and I felt like a fool for the second time that evening. “I never doubted your faithfulness. Not once. Not ever.” I pressed a kiss to her lips. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. It’s him I worry about.”

She shoved my shoulders playfully. “When? You’re not around enough to see anything. If there was something to see, that is. Which there isn’t.”

The truth in her statement renewed the guilt I’d been struggling with all week. “I know. Sorry, baby.” I pressed a kiss to her temple, savoring the sweet taste of her skin.

“In fact, you still owe me an apology for dinner.” One of her eyebrows lifted in reproach, but her arms stole around my neck. I lived for moments like these, alone together in the quiet intimacy of our bedroom, just the two of us.

“Yes,” I replied. The tip of her nose slid along the curve of my ear and nuzzled the tender spot beneath my lobe. “I apologize. My phone died, and it was wrong to have Xavier call and cancel. I promise from now on I’ll call you myself.”

Her eyebrow climbed higher. “And?”

“And I won’t make plans I can’t keep.”

“Good.” Her smile warmed me from the inside.

“I brought a little present for you.”

“Really? What is it?” Childish delight brightened her features.

“It’s in the breast pocket of my suit jacket.” I grunted as she leaped off my lap and jogged to the chair where I’d laid my coat. She rummaged through the pockets and drew out the small blue velvet box. Her eyes narrowed then widened with surprise when she opened it. A stunning two-karat sapphire ring gleamed from its velvet bed.

“You bought me a ring?” She closed the lid and stared at me. This wasn’t at all the reaction I’d been picturing in my head.

“You don’t like it?”

“No. It’s fine.” She bit her lower lip. “But you know I don’t really wear jewelry.”

“I know, but I thought—” A wave of her hand stopped me midsentence.

Her eyes narrowed, and the furrow deepened between her brows. “This is about more than just dinner, isn’t it?” As usual, she saw right through me.

Another rush of guilt flashed through me. I looked toward the window. This wasn’t going to go well, and I had no one to blame but myself.

“I have to leave again. Tomorrow. For two weeks. Tokyo.”

“Again? Are you kidding me? You’re going to miss my next doctor’s appointment. You promised to go to this one.”

“I know. I know. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important. But Takashima’s partners got wind of Maxwell’s issues, and they want to meet with me in person.”

“So Takashima is more important than being here with me.” 

 “He just gave us a shitload of money, Dakota. I can’t say no.” Even as I said the words, I recognized how wrong I was.

“Why not? You say it to me all the time lately.” She placed the ring box gently on the dresser and walked around the end of the bed to the opposite side. This quiet acceptance frightened me more than her anger. I knew how to deal with a shouting Dakota, but not this silent version.

“Oh, come on. We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. You know it’s only temporary. We both agreed it was necessary.” I reached across the bed for her hand, but she pulled it out of reach. “As soon as this deal is done, I’m home for good.”

“That’s what you said the last time.” She dragged the covers up to her chin then snapped off the lamp.

“Dakota.” The bed, which had seemed luxurious earlier, now seemed too expansive.

“It’s fine, Sam.” And with these three final words, she turned her back to me and went to sleep.