In less than a second, I felt Beckham’s hand on my lower back as he pushed the fallen hairs away from my face.
Wiping away my tears as I tried to calm my breathing, he consoled me. “Flower…”
I shook my head as my hand grabbed his. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
My heart melted as his tone remained soft in contrast to his usual stoic one. Regardless, I allowed him to help me stand and rinsed my mouth before I attempted to make myself look a bit more presentable.
Beckham remained by my side and soon he walked me out of the bathroom as Vincent patiently waited in the middle of the floor, hands in his pockets, expression concerned.
“Rosenna, darling,” he said, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost be congratulating you both on the prospect of providing me with a grandchild—”
“Father,” Beckham warned, his eyes never leaving me as I laughed softly.
“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Garcia, but my nausea is a result of something less worthy of congratulations.”
He nodded silently, and I could tell he didn’t want to pry, but it was obvious he wanted to know. Beckham, in contrast, seemed more concerned about my wellbeing, not too worried about what had me worked up.
Deciding to share, I sighed heavily before I began. “My father dropped in on me this morning, and Gavin arranged a get-together as if we were still on good terms. He invited my parents and my in-laws… And out of spite, I went over to his office to give him a piece of my mind.”
Beckham’s arm tightened around my waist as his eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t have gone to see him,” he practically growled, and I shook my head.
“I want to agree… but if I didn’t go today,” I began, my face blushing slightly as I recalled the events under Vincent’s inquisitive gaze, “I wouldn’t have been able to see the video he has that depicts our affair rather... explicitly.”
“A video?” Beckham asked.
“I don’t know how he got it, but it was after our dinner night. He’s using it to blackmail me. If I don’t continue to be his perfect wife, then my parents, my family, my employees... everyone will know how our marriage came to an end without even having the full story. My reputation, my life... our future is on the line here, Beckham.”
He placed a soft kiss on my forehead as I shuddered at the mere thought of it all. It was bad enough my emotions were spiraling just as much as my racing mind was, I didn’t need the looming threat of my life being exposed adding to it.
Just because you’ve found yourself a little boyfriend, Rosenna… doesn’t mean you’re still not my wife. You’re still mine.
This was all my fault.
“Flower, please...” Beckham whispered against my skin as I did my best not to vomit again.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed Vincent walking over to his desk before pulling out a folder. He walked back over to us and handed it to me as Beckham reluctantly let me go.
Grabbing it from his hand, I looked up into his gaze, which was still warm and fatherly.
“Take the night, Ms. Hart. Review this when you can and return to my office when you’re ready to proceed with the next step.”
The next step?
“The next step of what?” I whispered, attempting to open the folder, but he shook his head as his hand landed on mine to stop me.
“Not right now. Take a few hours. Rest and breathe. Whenever you’re ready, look in this folder. And if I were you, I’d have a glass of wine on hand while you’re at it.”
Sitting in Beckham’s living room, I turned to the next sheet of the forty-page-long detailed report on my once beloved husband. Heeding Vincent’s advice, I took the night to relax my mind, to pamper myself while Beckham was busy painting as he wanted to give me space to think.
Now freshly bathed and dressed in a silk nightgown and robe as my damp hair rested on my shoulders, I swirled my wine in my glass as I tried to piece together the information Vincent’s private investigators, lawyers, cybersecurity team and financial advisors provided me.
I was a bit alarmed to learn that Vincent and Beckham were so deep into an investigation that it practically put Gavin’s blackmail video to shame. I was having trouble processing it, but I’d been struggling to process a lot lately, so it wasn’t anything new.
Placing the open folder on the coffee table, I rubbed my temples as I downed the last of the wine, already ready to pour my third glass.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I felt hands on my shoulders as a small moan escaped me at the feeling of my muscles and tendons being worked.
