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The punishment isn’t worth the reward, she would say back.
And that would be the end of it.
She’d stopped trying a decade ago to have a relationship with me, and often I felt like I was a source of resentment for her. An anchor to a life she never wanted. A chain around her neck to tug in case she ever got out of line.
I wondered what she thought now. I wondered if she was happy for me, or if she assumed Gareth was just like any other mobster or worse, since he was from a rival family. I wondered if she cared at all? I wondered if Father had taken his anger out on her.
Guilt slithered through me, oily and thick and fueling the growing anxiety that bubbled in my chest.
I couldn't think about that. And as terrible as I felt at the possibility that my father took out my crimes on her, it was hard to linger in guilt for a woman who had never once stepped in front of a hit for me, even when she could’ve when I was a child.
No, I couldn't worry about that at all.
I had to get Gareth to see my side of things. To realize that the only way I'd ever be safe was if I became worthless to my father. And that wouldn't happen until Gareth did me the favor I’d originally asked for.
Seducing Gareth Maxfield was probably an impossible task, even to the most skilled temptresses, but to someone like me? Someone who didn't understand half of what I needed to in order to tempt him? Escaping his fortified estate would be easier.
I shifted off the bed, pacing a little as I tried to focus on what I could control.
Getting to know Gareth.
That was something I could do. Something I knew how to do. I’d been trained in the art of conversation whenever I was allowed to speak, and at the very least, maybe we could become friends.
I knew he was my husband by law, but we were basically strangers. Sure, we'd shared moments at the monthly poker games the last three years, but I didn't know what his favorite food was or how he liked his coffee. I didn't know if he enjoyed running outside for exercise or reading by a fire. I didn't know if he liked to listen to music in the shower?—
The image that formed in my mind at the tail end of that thought had me breathless and feeling like my skin was too tight for my body. I felt achy in a way I'd never felt before, the image of Gareth in a shower and dripping wet doing everything to agitate me in ways I didn't recognize.
I shook off the sensation, or tried to, and the motion made the giant T-shirt I was wearing sway back and forth. I huffed in frustration, swimming in the material. While I loved that it was carrying the faint scent that was unique to Gareth, it wasn't exactly the most practical thing to wear.
Maybe if it had just been Gareth in the house, I wouldn't think twice about it, but it was hard to feel like a strong, capable woman when I didn’t have a real pair of pants or clothes that fit me. And as it was, his house was filled with not only the few staff he kept on hand, but what I assumed was way more guards than he normally kept.
I knew I needed to ask him for clothes. I missed my own underwear, despite how comfy Gareth’s boxers may be. When we’d first arrived, he’d said to just ask anyone for what I needed, but after years of being punished for asking for anything for myself, it was much harder than I think he realized.
Asking for things for myself resulted in degrading comments about being selfish and spoiled at best, and physical reprimands at worst.
I battled with myself internally for a few more heartbeats before deciding that if I could so boldly offer myself up to Gareth on a silver platter, then certainly I could find the courage to ask him to order me some underwear and pants and shirts. I guess this would be the genuine test if my instincts were right about Gareth or not.
His reaction would tell me everything I needed to know.
I padded barefoot down the hallways, telling myself I was slowly checking every communal space in the off chance that he might actually be leisurely lounging in one of them, when I knew very well it was a weekday and odds were he was in his home office. I hoped I would catch him between meetings and calls, because I knew better than anyone the repercussions of overhearing business that didn’t pertain to me.
The office was the last place I looked. The door was open, so surely he was free to talk. I walked through the opened doorway, but froze two steps in.
“The opening of the West Coast branch is on schedule,” Brooks said as he leaned casually against Gareth’s desk.
Gareth sat behind the desk in a large wingback chair.
“Good,” Gareth said. “Once it's open, we’ll be able to distribute and handle more product. Which will mean we can lower our prices to our consumers.” Gareth's eyes met mine, widening slightly in surprise as he found me standing there.
Icy dread washed over me, the fear telling me to both remain frozen and run in the opposite direction. “I'm so sorry,” I said as quickly as I could. “I didn't mean…I didn't know you had business. I'll go?—”
Gareth was around his desk and within an arm’s length from me in a matter of seconds. He reached out like he might touch me, but then thought better of it and dropped his hand. “Hey, it's okay. I told you, you never have to apologize for anything.”
“But, your business. I didn't mean to overhear...” I stopped myself, eyes widening as I looked to Brooks, who would no doubt carry out the punishment should Gareth say the word. Brooks slowly shifted his body to face me, putting his empty hands in clear view.
Right. Not my family.
They’re not like them.
