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He taps the augmented screen, pulling up the location grid and hacking into the street cameras. He pulls a close-up image of her getting out of the Rolls-Royce I bought to take her around wherever she needs to go. The image of her face has my stomach tightening in knots.
She's been crying. A lot. Those beautiful turquoise eyes are puffy and red. I did that, and I want to go back and erase it, but I can't. I get all fucked up inside when she comes near me.
One look.
One word.
That is all it takes for me to fall under her spell.
But then I get angry because out of everyone, she is the only one who can dig inside me. She sees what no one has been able to—the real me.
I watch my best friend through my mask, and for the first time, fear claws my gut. He's in love with her. And all I have done is push her away.
"Hack into her phone and add the account I have set up for her. Don't make it seem like it's from me. Ghost it."
"She will think her father never closed her personal accounts when you know he did the minute you wired him the rest of the money."
"If she knows it’s from me, she won’t use it, and she will be penniless out there."
"Then why did you let her leave, knowing she was going out there broke without a way to pay for anything?"
"Don't question what I do or how I handle my wife," I grit.
He gets up from the chair and storms out. "Where are you going?" I call out.
"To go get my friend! She needs me." His voice floats from the hallway.
I get up and pocket her device. He thinks she's his friend, but she'smywife.
"Please scan," the voice says from the machine, lighting up as it waits for payment. I tap my phone, and it turns green. "Payment accepted." I sigh in relief, glad my father wasn't such an asshole to close my account.
I took the ostentatious car that Killian left for me to travel around the island and went to a boutique shop to pick out some nice things to wear. I have always stuck to wearing black and opted for a blood-red suit that I think would pair nicely with the black boots I love to wear with everything.
I have tried to find them in different stores but haven't had any luck. It has been so long since I’ve gone out shopping for myself. I used to always have things sent to my father's house, but with the way things are going with Killian and me, it feels like living with him is a death sentence. I feel trapped inside a prison. Physically and mentally.
I walk out into the afternoon sun shining bright in the blue sky and spot the car I arrived in waiting at the curb. I approach it, and a man wearing a dark gray suit steps forward.
"Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair or, should I say, Mrs. Cross."
I squint my eyes and look into brown eyes and dark hair, scanning his face to see if I recognize him, but I can't place him.
"Do I know you?"
He shakes his head. "I know you, but I don't think you know me. I'm a friend of your father’s. I requested an introduction, but your father was always busy." He sticks his hand out. "My name is James Hendricks."
I look at his outstretched hand and hesitate to place my hand in his, but I don't want to seem rude, so I shake it. His hand is firm, but the way his eyes darken has alarm bells going off in my head, screaming to run the other way. He slides his thumb over the top of my hand, and it feels forward and highly inappropriate. Even if it's just for show, I’m still married.
I pull my hand back and square my shoulders. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Hendricks, but I have to head home. My husband is waiting."
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I expected that. If he knows my father, he isn't to be trusted, and there must be a small moral bone in my father's body that hinted to him that it was never a good idea for me to meet this man.
James Hendricks is a tall, attractive man, but his demeanor makes him unapproachable. When you look into his eyes or watch his expression carefully, it's like watching a shark with cold eyes circling his prey, knowing he will strike but not knowing when.
I turn to walk toward the car when he asks, "How is your husband? He doesn't venture out much, does he? I'm kind of surprised he would let a woman who looks like you out alone. You never know who might snatch you up." He lowers his voice, and my skin pimples despite the heat. "You never know who might be lurking, looking for something as exquisite as you to sweep you off your feet and take you out to eat."
I don't miss the innuendo. James Hendricks is a pompous asshole.
"I wouldn't know. Maybe he's sure that wouldn't happen since I was properly fed my breakfast and dinner. He never leaves room for seconds."
