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PROLOGUE
LYDIA
Dressed in a trench coat and high heels, I stare at my reflection in the elevator panels. I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am. We’ve been married for over seven years. Yes, we’ve hit a dry spell. But, between both our jobs and me with our seven-year-old twins, we’ve been so busy. I try not to think of the fears that have been rolling through my mind for the last year and a half. Ever since Colton accepted the job with Kant Holding International, he’s been more distant. That’s why I’m doing this. I want to put the spark back into our marriage. I’m going to seduce my husband.
I changed out of my work clothes and into the negligee I have on underneath the coat when I got off the plane. I took tomorrow off from work, which isn’t easy when I’m the bear expert and head curator at the Nashville Zoo. It may seem a bit desperate, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do. I need to show my husband I’m willing to step out of my comfort zone for him. Maybe he’ll do the same for me.
Colton has always been so critical of me. I love him, but I sometimes feel like I’m not perfect enough for him. It makes me question why he wanted to marry me. Yes, I was pregnant at the time, but that’s no reason to get married. We dated as teens, so we have history. But high school had been years ago. We both went our separate ways after graduation. My dream was to study zoology, and he went to business school. We reunited when I was studying for my doctorate. He soon realized I wasn’t the same girl and set out to change me, which he did. Every day I look in the mirror and see the woman he wants, not the woman I was before him—the woman I want to be.
I look at the mirrored elevator panels and scrutinize myself. My hair is perfect. My makeup is on point. I look down at my hands. My tattoos are concealed beneath a layer of body makeup. I have several over my body that I got in my college days. Colton despises them, but I won’t remove them. They are special to me, especially the ones on the middle finger of my right hand and my left wrist. Those are for the parents I lost when I was a teenager.
The bell dings when I arrive on his floor, and the doors slide open. There is a sign in front of me with numbers pointing in both directions. After quickly scanning the sign, I turn to the left. I’ve never been to his condo in Dallas. This place is part of the perks Colton gets for working for Kant Holding. The company knew he would be traveling back and forth between here and home, so they wanted to accommodate him as best as they could. The hope is that Mr. Kant will open a Nashville office in the next year so we won’t have to keep living like this. The kids miss having him home. Well, kind of. I hate to think about the fact that they are less stressed when he isn’t home.
I move down the hall, my shorter legs making the longer strides I’ve gotten used to in order to keep up with Colton’s tall frame. When I’m standing outside his door, the nerves kick in again. Ever since I got on the plane this afternoon, I’ve been doubting this plan. But I know we need this time together, a weekend to reconnect with each other.
I knock a couple of times and wait.
“Just a moment,” a female voice says.
I step back and look at the unit number. I have the right condo.
Oh God!
“Can I help you?” The woman opens the door, interrupting the panic flaring throughout my body. My blood is racing through my veins. I feel lightheaded. This can’t be happening. “Excuse me. What do you want?” I take in her fake boobs that are barely covered by the robe wrapped around her body. Her lips are full and medically enlarged. Her long blond hair is in aI Dream of Jeannieponytail on the top of her head. Her hair length and color are fake too.
I stand there, taking her in and the room behind her. “I think I have the wrong condo,” I finally say.
She’s closing the door when a male voice I know well says, “Who’s at the door, sexy?”
My hand shoots out and pushes the door open, almost hitting the Botoxed bimbo. Standing with a towel wrapped around his waist and freshly showered is my husband. The man who won’t undress in front of me anymore. The man who has never called me sexy. The father of my children.
My. Husband.
“C-Colton,” I stammer.
He stops, his eyes growing big with shock and something else. Something that causes a cold chill to roll up my spine. His hand moves to his towel, while the other comes up to stop me.
“Lydia, it’s not what you think.”
I step back like I’ve been slapped. For the first time in years the emotions I’m constantly holding back barrel forward.
My anger. My bitchiness. My temper. All the emotions he’s reprimanded me for over the years, telling me I was childish for allowing them to get the better of me, they all flare bright.
“Not what I think?” I wave my hand between the two of them. “That’s the oldest saying in the book. I didn’t know this condo complex had concierge services. Is Barbie here to turn down your sheets? Did you get a chocolate and blowjob on your pillow? Don’t you have more imagination than, ‘It’s not what you think’?” I glance at the bimbo. “Your blow-up doll needs to stop frowning, or you’ll have to pay for more Botox.”
“Watch your mouth, Lydia.” He uses that deep, emotionless voice that makes me apologize for my behavior. But not this time.
Nope. No more. I’m done.
“Watch my mouth? Watch this, fucker. Go to motherfucking hell, asshole.” I drop as many cuss words as I can.
“Hey,” the blonde says.
I swing my eyes toward her and glare daggers at her. She shuts her mouth and steps back. I glance down and take in her sky-high heels. My eyes travel up her body, and I hold the shiver of hate in as she smirks at me.
“He likes to fuck me with my heels on. The feel of them in his ass—”
“Deedee, that’s enough,” he orders her.
