AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Again, that’s not what I heard,” Yuki replied, her eyebrows drawn together. “Don’t let emotions confuse who you can or can’t rely on as an ally. I almost did that, to my detriment.”
“I’m not confused by any emotions,” she insisted, knowing it was a lie.
Yuki leaned forward, her arms on her knees as she studied Hartley. Her gaze was like a physical thing, making her face warm wherever it touched. Then Yuki slapped her hands on her knees and stood up.
Hartley didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until then. She let the air out in a quiet stream so she didn’t give herself away.
“There is a saying about achieving beauty only through sacrifice,” Yuki stated. “Beauty in life, in your being, in all things.”
Hartley stared as her brain tried to unravel that riddle. “I don’t know about the beauty part, but I’m definitely doing the sacrifice part,” she replied.
Yuki smiled. “What are you willing to sacrifice to put things back in order?”
“I guess…everything?” she replied. She didn’t see relief in Yuki’s gaze, though. Merely some form of acceptance.
“I think you can do this, Hartley. Butyouneed to know you can do it. Do you? Know it?” Yuki asked.
Hartley looked into the woman’s eyes, and fuck if something in Yuki’s expression didn’t send a bolt of electricity through her body. “Iknowit,” she said, and the words snapped with energy that belied all the cosmos she’d pounded back.
“Good.” Yuki held out her hand.
Hartley took it and shook. As she watched Yuki walk away, she prayed she hadn’t just told another lie.
CHAPTER3
The miserable December sky—not exactly cold, not exactly wet—seeped through the small attic window above where Montgomery worked. He stretched in the antique chair, then pushed himself backwards.
Everything about the room was a contradiction to Montgomery. The desk was the perfect example. Its delicate cabriole legs, gently curving outward and ending in ornate claw feet, stood in stark contrast to his hairy, muscled legs. The room, too, was cozy, with warm yellow walls and a sloped ceiling. It wasn’t anything like him at all. He supposed it was in keeping with an attic in an English manor, which the house was based on, but it wasn’t conducive to what he was doing.
“Babysitting my wife,” he muttered in answer to the question that rose in his mind day after day:What are you doing here?
He spun in the chair, surveying the frilly bedroom. From his angle, he could see the elegant rugs on the warm hardwood. He could see her closet, with her power suits and dresses pushed to one side and his severely tailored suits hanging on the other. Separated. Like they were.
This space that Hartley had claimed as her own wasn’t exactly her, either. She had her feminine moments, but she could be just as aggressive and hard-angled as he was. More stubborn. More free with the insults. More…
“Complicated,” he said aloud, unable to figure out why his wife—soon to be ex—insisted on staying in the attic. Or why he’d felt the need to move in.
She’d infected him, obviously. From the moment he’d kicked off his game plan, which was guaranteed to end their marriage, she’d occupied every corner of his mind.
But no more.
This infection he’d been fighting for the last year would end. He would tie up the loose ends at Cavendish that had entangled him and move on. And if they couldn’t be tied, he’d cut them.
He’d become someone else these last months. Probably wasn’t obvious to anyone other than himself, but he was definitely different.
And he hated it.
He straightened his tie and adjusted the cuffs of his Turnbull & Asser bespoke shirt. Business on top, $300 Zimmerli underwear on the bottom. Nothing but the best for his video meeting. Talking to his right-hand man back in Berlin was a first step to getting back to the old Montgomery he hadn’t been in a while. Too long a while.
He checked his watch, waiting until the second hand was three ticks away from noon before he started the call. One tick later, Bernard Müeller, his CFO in Berlin, answered.
“Mein freund, it is good to see you,” Bernard said, his silver hair blending into the light gray of the wall behind him. “Why do you look like you are in an attic?”
“Because I am in an attic,” Montgomery replied. He glanced at the agenda Bernard posted in the chat window and held back a grimace.
There were only four bullet points, all concerning the launch of Meyer Global in China. Normally, Montgomery would champ at the bit to get this deal completed, but for some reason, he was mired in the happenings at Cavendish.
“I guess the location doesn’t matter, as long as we agree on the agenda,” Bernard said, his demeanor subdued. Almost cautious.
