We make plans to see each other, and I end the call. After driving around again, I still can’t find the idiot. I’d call Eden, but she actually trusts her husband and doesn’t question him. Eden’s car is parked at her job, but I don’t stop by to ask her.
I have no choice but to go back home and wait. My stomach growls, so I go back, make myself lunch, and prepare for the confrontation of my life.
While I wait, my mind wanders to a place I never thought it would. What if he has changed his mind about being married to me, and this is his way of ending the relationship? If that’s the case, I should be relieved. My mother had the surgery. It’sbeen a success, and she’s on her way to recovery. Even if Daxton doesn’t pay for the additional treatment, the surgery is already complete. I should be happy to be done with him and this sham of a marriage, but I’m not. There is no way he’s going to be the one who leaves me.
If anyone is going to leave this marriage, it’s not going to be Daxton Hunt, master manipulator. It’s going to be me, and he’s going to be devastated. So, why do I feel sick at the thought of him walking away?
Not only did I eat lunch alone, but dinner was a solitary affair as well. He’s trapped me in this house with no access to money. He’s not only cut off the credit cards he gave me, but also the couple I had before this marriage.
I tried to leave the house to search for him again, but my car had been disabled and would not start. I had no choice but to come back inside and wait. The man is better at playing the waiting game than I am. In the many hours I’ve been stuck in this prison, I’ve imagined ripping his face off at least two dozen times.
My calls to him continue to go nowhere. I can’t even leave a message. The hours drag on, and it’s almost ten o’clock when I hear his heavy footsteps. That mutt is with him. I can hear her paws against the tiled floor.
He turns on the light in the kitchen, but does not react when he sees me sitting at the counter. He doesn’t address me at all, but he opens the fridge and quickly slams it when he notices that it’s empty.
“All the food is in the trash in the garage. You want to go get it? Maybe you and your mutt can share it.” His eyes narrow atme. He takes a slow step forward, and I hop off the chair, waiting to do battle. He walks past me, his shoulder just brushing against mine.
I follow him upstairs, and that mongrel walks behind me.
“What the fuck?” I ask. He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor. I block his path to the bathroom, but he puts his hands on my hips, walks me to the bed and drops me like I’m a bag of trash.
I lie there and wait, and seconds later, he storms into the room like I knew his dumb ass would.
“Where’s my body wash?” He yanks the closet open, and when he doesn’t find anything, he looks through my drawers, pulling out all my clothes in the process.
“Where’s my fucking money?” I snap. He lets out a big, fake belly laugh.
“You ain’t got none, broke ass.” He walks his sexy, naked body closer and points to my face. “I married a brokie, and your broke ass is broke.”
“Are those your big, fancy college words?”
“Yeah. Let me hear yours.” His eyes narrow at me. I stomp back to the bed and throw a pillow at him. He moves, and I miss.
“I married a thief because you left two dollars in my bank account. How the hell did you even get in there? I didn’t give you access.”
“I don’t need permission to do shit.” He gestures at me. “You should know that by now,wife.” He says 'wife' with so much disdain that I almost take a step back. Almost, but I’m not about to cower to him or any other man. “Just like I didn’t need permission to take you. So, yeah. I took your little coins.”
“Little? I had—”
“Yeah, little. All that money in there was mine. You think I didn’t know you were moving money around? Taking it from my account and putting it into yours?” He gets closer and pokeshis finger on my chest. I try to knock his hand away, but can’t. “And speaking of thieves, you were going to take another hundred grand from me to buy that worthless cousin of yours a car. I wouldn’t give her a dollar store pack of pens, never mind a luxury SUV.”
I take a step back at his words. I figured he was upset about my paying the mortgage, but I had no idea he knew about the car.
“Not all of it was yours. I had thousands in there that I managed to save, but how do you know about the car?”
“I read your texts.” My eyes widen at his admission. “Yeah, I figured out your code. And the car is the least of it, isn’t it?” He gets closer. I move back until I hit the wall, but he doesn’t give me space. He crowds me so much, I fear he will push his naked body into mine. “You thought you could play with my emotions.” He lowers his voice, but I swear I hear a tinge of hurt, and for a moment, I feel a sense of shame take over me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I try to slide past him, but he presses his body into mine, trapping me. “I don’t play games like that.”
“Look at me in the eyes when you lie to me.” I jut out my chin and refuse to make eye contact. “I knew you were a liar, but you’ve sunk to a new low.”
The fucking audacity of this man to do all this shit and play victim. Part of me wants to call him out and tell him I know every dirty thing he’s done, but I want to see how far he takes this before I pull the rug out from under him.
“I’ve sunk to a new low?” I point at myself and laugh. “Me? Yeah, okay. I’ve never bought a wife, so you can take your fake sanctimonious ass out my fucking face. I don’t buy your hurt.”
“Hurt?” He arches a brow. “Well, aren’t we full of ourselves? You can’t hurt me, sweetheart. You can’t best me either. You don’t have what it takes. Now, where’s my fucking body wash?”
“Then, why are you so angry, huh? For someone who can’t be hurt by me, you sure seem butthurt. And as for your pretentious ass body wash, I poured it all down the drain. It’s gone. It went before that expensive cologne you wear, and if you don’t give me back my money, I’ll—”
