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Sorry for not loving me enough?
Considering her current state of mind, all the questions hurtling through my mind don’t matter right now. I cover her restrained hand with my own. “Just rest. We’ll figure it out.”
She parts her lips, as if to say more, then the medicine in her veins pulls her under again. I let out a long breath, heartbeat keeping a steady pace to the rhythmic beeping of her vitals. I sit at her side for a while longer before stepping into the hall to put in a call to Blackwell. I’m just ending the call with the attorney when Monica’s parents arrive, along with my father.
“We got here as soon as we could,” Roni says. “How is she?”
“She’s sedated, but the doctor said she’ll be okay.”
Roni blinks, fighting tears. “So it’s true. My daughter tried hurting herself.”
The atmosphere in the hallway is grim, and I feel it settle over me like a wet blanket. It’s stifling and inescapable, especially with the officer posted outside Monica’s room.
Ned takes in the cop with narrowed eyes. “Have they arrested her?”
I shake my head. “No, but it’s only a matter of time. I’ve already been in touch with Blackwell on her behalf.”
“Good,” he says, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Is this uniform going to keep me from seeing my daughter?”
“You can go in. The doctor said two at a time, and to keep the visits short.”
Ned settles his hand on his wife’s back and ushers her into Monica’s room. After they settle at her bedside, my father gestures for me to follow him into the family waiting room. As soon as the door shuts behind us, enclosing us in privacy, he clears his throat.
“The media have already caught wind of this. Blackwell’s office is pressing the Seattle PD for info so we can prepare our next move, but the sooner we schedule another press conference, the better.”
His words hold the power to choke, and I grab at my tie. More press conferences, more expectations. My wife just tried to kill herself, but that’s all my father can think about.
“Can’t all of this wait? Monica’s in a goddamn hospital bed right now,” I point out, barely keeping a lid on my anger.
“Yes, and she’s also facing a murder charge. I don’t know what the hell your wife got herself into, but as CEO of MontBlake, it’s your job to consider all angles. It’s your job to protect the company, Cash. We need to get ahead of this.”
“Ahead of what?” I begin to pace, too upset to stand still. “The truth is the truth. There’s no way we’ll be able to spin this. Every aspect of our lives, professional and otherwise, will become public knowledge.” As soon as the words tumble from my mouth, I realize they have a hidden meaning. I halt and stare at my dad. “And maybe it’s for the best, because I’m done living this lie.”
Going by the dark shadow crossing his face, he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“It’s imperative, now more than ever, that you stay the course.” He grits his teeth, and I know we aren’t only talking PR strategies here. “Shareholders need to see a united front while we navigate the situation. A divorce right now, on top of the mess Monica got herself in, would be a disaster.”
“Our marriage is a sham!” Raking my fingers through my hair, I temper my tone. “If you expect me to pretend everything’s okay, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“Stock is plummeting as we speak.” My father ducks his head, lowering his voice as if he might be overheard despite the relative privacy of the room. “I expect you to do whatever’s necessary to put MontBlake first.”
Several seconds of tense silence slip by. “What about what I want? Does that even matter to you?”
“You’re my son. Of course your happiness matters to me. But you have obligations, Cash.” He thrusts a hand in the direction of Monica’s hospital room. “And one of those obligations needs her husband—not a man who’d rather stick his dick in another woman while she faces the firing squad alone. I don’t care what issues the two of you are dealing with. She’s still your wife and the chairperson of this company, so you need to fix this now!”
“How do you suggest I do that?” We’re a few octaves away from screaming at each other.
“Stop thinking with the appendage in your pants, for one. The last thing we need is another person in your marriage.”
“You’re right,” I snap. “We already have too many people in our marriage as it is.”
And that’s why it was doomed to fail from the beginning.
The cinch around my throat tightens, and if I don’t get out of here for a while, I might lose it. “I need some air,” I mutter, stalking out of the room. He calls after me, but I ignore him as I bolt down the hall toward the exit.
