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Everyone believes me capable of such villainy against my wife. The one I took a bullet for and almost died for. The one I dragged myself out of the darkness to be with. The same woman I am deeply and irrationally in love with, despite my unsuccessful attempts to stay away from her. “Kalista surprised me and forced that embrace. I pushed her away and told her to stay away from me. I never knew there was a photographer present. I didn’t cheat, Rachel.”
She stares at me with a cold blank look across her face, and I can’t tell if she believes me. “How much do you truly love my daughter, Jaxon? Enough to give up everything for her? Think that through for a moment; your answer will determine whether your brains are splattered on this floor.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and truly think over Rachel’s question. How much do I love Stella? So much that I can no longer function without her.No, that’s not true; I don’t want to function without her.Life has no meaning without her by my side. She is mine, and I will not release my hold on her. Not even death could take me away from her. I would haunt her in the afterlife. There is no me any longer without her. I am waiting for her very touch to bring me back to life, stuck in this gray nothingness that I am calling living without her. What would I give up to have her back, to have her in my arms?Everything. I would give up everything that I have, will have, and am, to have her back. The thought should scare me, but it doesn’t. It settles on me like a mantel of truth.
“Take it all, Rachel; without her, it means nothing to me now.” I take a shuddering breath and then close my eyes, awaiting her order to shoot me and end my miserable existence.
“Good, Jaxon. Then you finally understand my daughter’s worth. You will sign over everything to Stella, right here, right now. Your life will be forfeit if you don’t. Then I will tell you where you can find my willful daughter, and you can try to convince her yourself that you are worthy of her.” My eyes open quickly, and the brute behind me releases his hold, shifting away from me but still holding the gun aimed at my head. My glare returns to Rachel and the folder she is pulling from her purse.
A chuckle leaves my lips at the vision before me. Stella’s mother is a little gangster, strong-arming me at gunpoint to sign over all of my assets and wealth to her daughter. The daughter I love and would willingly have given everything to anyway. “You know you are incredibly frightening, Rachel. You look like this pristine little wealthy housewife, but really you’re amafioso, aren’t you?”
A devilish smirk crosses her pink-tinted lips. “Where do you think my daughter got her ruthlessness from Jaxon?” She hands me a pen and the folder and watches as I read through the document before me. It’s a legally binding contract, one that gives my wife sole ownership of our newly merged enterprise and all of my financial assets other than my house. I’m about to go from being a billionaire to being just a semi-wealthy fucker with no legacy left to leave behind when I die.How the mighty have fallen at the hands of vengeful women.
“Did she ask for this?” I question, hoping that it’s not my wife that is demanding this sacrifice. Let’s be clear, I will pay this pound of flesh to get her back willingly. I just hope that it doesn’t become a thorn of resentment between us.
“No, Jaxon, she didn’t. She doesn’t know I’m here. Stella will destroy you one chunk at a time, enjoying herself and breaking her own heart as she does. My stubborn daughter is as much in love with you as you seem to be with her. I am demanding this sacrifice so that I know your feelings for her are sincere and so I don’t follow through on my promise to end your life.”
I don’t even bother reading the next document, I just sign my signature at the bottom of each page and hand the folder back to Rachel. She looks them over with satisfaction, a smile gracing her beautiful face, one that resembles an older version of my stunning ice queen wife. Is this what Stella will be like in forty years?Naw, fucker, she is going to be so much more ruthless, you better pray long and hard she lets you live a long life at her side.The thought brings me so much pleasure that I can’t resist laughing out loud again.
Rachel places the documents back in her purse and hands me a piece of paper, an alluring smile reaching her blue eyes. “It seems my daughter bought a house in the Hamptons, Jaxon. You might want to wear a bulletproof vest when you try to convince her of your love. She is really quite irate with you right now.” She turns and walks away from me, leaving me standing there like a complete and useless dumbass.She bought a fucking house?
I stare down at the piece of paper in my hand, with the scribbled address of a house I knew nothing about. This paper is worth my entire fortune, I have literally signed it over in order to have it. There is nothing I wouldn’t have given up for this one small bit of hope.
Rachel says Stella is in love with me.Can that be possible?I fucking hope so. My pulse accelerates rapidly, causing my chest to tighten. I’m not sure if it’s from fear, excitement or a combination of both. Maybe after Stella is done bloodying me, she will listen to reason, and then hopefully, I can spend the rest of my days balls deep in all of her pretty holes.
I unlock my car and get inside, a smile broad across my face, making my throbbing cheek hurt. Even that pain and annoyance cannot simmer, the joy filling me. I now know where my wife is, and I’m going to get her fucking back.
Stella Stratford is mine, and it’s time I made sure she understood that there is no me or her; there is just us.
33
Stella
“Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.” Ray Stannard Baker
Ilifttheglassof red wine to my lips as I lean more fully against the island cabinets, leaning my elbow on the stone countertop. The gorgeous dark walnut and cream kitchen I planned to share with Jaxon and the family that we would have raised here, surrounds me, causing me further sadness.
I take a deep sip, the aroma and taste soothing yet not fulfilling me, as I slide my hand lovingly against the cold marble counter, cold like my supposed ice queen heart. I wish that the rich wine would make me forget all my problems, but nothing seems to be able to do that lately. My mind and heart are at war with each other. One bleeding through a series of sharp cuts and calling out for a man that has deceived and fragmented me. The other demanding retribution and the infliction of pain on that same man.
A noise crawls its miserable way out of the depth of my chest as tears slide down my face. I sound like a wounded animal ready to die in captivity, knowing that there is no way to freedom. I am so tired and conflicted with this struggle. Do I even want to continue in this petty war against Jaxon, or do I just want to have him back in anyway that I can?Is my pride worth all this pain?What is that proverb?“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”
The sound of soft footsteps on the stone floors outside of the kitchen reaches my ears and has me turning back towards the entrance and wiping quickly at the tears across my face.Damn it! Can’t I even be weak in the solitude of my home?
My eyes quickly scan the counters while I wipe away the moisture from my eyes that continuously falls like an unleashed tap, sprouting salty tears. Did Tyson forget something here? He left not even twenty minutes ago to return to Manhattan after delivering me the latest acquisition report and advising me of my father’s impromptu visit to Jaxon at the office. One that apparently has caused all kinds of gossip to spread at the water cooler and will most likely make it to the tabloids by morning. A sob catches in my throat as I clear it. I don’t want even Tyson to see how weak I have become. How this situation with Jaxon is almost unbearable to me.
I don’t see anything here; as I turn back to face the kitchen entranceway, shock and surprise fill me. My eyes widen as my breath catches in my throat, and a chill of fear rushes down my body. I release the wine glass from my grip; it hits the Calcutta marble counter and then slams against the stone floor with a loud shattering sound. The sound of the glass breaking pulls me out of my frightened and frozen state and has me spurring into action.
There’s a man dressed entirely in black with a ski mask over his face coming at me with a large knife in his hands. Pure terror races across me, and my mind scrambles for what to do. Grappling with the horrific sight before me, that’s right out of a nightmare or a horror film.How the hell did this fucker get inside? How did I not hear him until he appeared before me?I dart across the island, putting it between the attacker and me. My body is trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. How dare this fucker sneak up on me to do me harm. I launch all of the items sitting on the counter, including the wine bottle, in his direction. My eyes dart all over the room, while also keeping him in my sight for a way to escape. Some things hit him; others never make contact. With nothing left to throw, I scramble backward and reach for the chef’s knives on their block behind me.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, my grasp making contact with the largest knife and brandishing it in front of me, while moving slowly around the island and towards the open kitchen doorway. He takes a step back in the same direction, trying to prevent my escape. My mind is running quickly with options, searching for a way out of the room and to safety. Do I try to fight him? Will I be able to hold him off long enough to get out of the room?
Fuck, if I fight him, he might be able to corner me or bring me down, and then I will be at his mercy. I don’t think he’s here only to scare me. The way he’s stalking me around the room tells me clearly that he’s going to hurt me, even kill me.
I only have one chance to escape if I can make it through that doorway. Otherwise, I am going to die here in my beautiful kitchen. I need to try to get to the front door and out of the house, or try to get up the stairs to the small closet-sized panic room I had installed and lock myself inside. My heart thuds loudly in my ears, and my hands feel wet with sweat. A feeling of revulsion and fear shudders through me. This man is here to kill me, and I’ll be damned if I am going down without a fight. Fuck him; I’m a Stratford; nobody’s taking me down without me raining hell on them.
He doesn’t answer me but tries to lunge across the island to slash at me, catching me in my bicep with the edge of his blade, just as I slash at him and catch the side of his face covered in the mask. The fabric gives way instantly and bares a glimpse of bloody skin below. “Fucking whore.” He shouts at me, as he pulls back.
The sting of the cut on my arm is sharp and has my breath catching in my throat as I move out of his way, sliding around the other side of the island and making a run for it out of the room. Panic is threatening to suffocate me; I have to try to keep my fucking head, or this guy is going to kill me. I slide across the stone floor, almost losing my footing, and race towards the solid wood, white front door.
