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She was mine, and I always took what was mine.
FIVE
change of heart
CHLOE
“Mr. and Mrs. Windsor.”The security guard stood at the water’s edge, fluffy robes and towels in each hand. He kept his gaze averted, firmly fixed on the horizon. “The property’s cleared. I’ve been alerted there’s about to be a press conference.”
“Thank you.” Bryce climbed out, unabashed, as rivulets of water coursed down his muscular frame and over his tight boxer briefs. He took the items and then nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
Bryce waited until the other man was back inside the house, then held out a robe for me. “Put this on. We need to go watch the news.”
“Is this about your father?” I still hadn’t spoken a word to him, but it seemed cruel not to ask.
“Yes—I don’t want to miss it.”
I quickly joined him on the beach and toweled myself dry, grateful for the robe’s coverage.
Bryce’s gaze flicked down my body. “I had Midge pack a suitcase for you. Go get changed and meet me in the living room. I wouldn’t want you to sit around in that wet thong.”
Ah, so hehadbeen looking. I raised my chin, struggling to appear nonchalant. “Fine.”
“Fine.” He motioned toward the house.
Damn him!He sounded much calmer than I felt. I tightened the robe around me and hustled to the bedroom, grateful to be away from him for a moment. I was a mess. Angry that he’d separated me from my brother, pissed that he’d threatened to have my mouth taped shut, afraid of what his father would do—all of that was mixed with a deep, undeniable longing.
I craved him. Being around my husband made me realize how much I’d missed him. Having Bryce close but not touching him was torture. In the midst of my anger, memories of how good we’d been together kept breaking through to the surface. Being pissed at him was a blessing. It kept the other feelings underwater, where they belonged.
Inside our room, I refused to look at the bed. That was where he’d taken me for the first time. I remembered that night so clearly; it was painful. I’d pledged to be his and only his, and he’d rewarded me by handcuffing me and penetrating me, making me lose my goddamned mind. I’d come so hard I’d seen stars. And he’d been so tender with me afterward, cradling me to his chest, telling me I was his forever. Don’t, Chloe. Don’t think about it.
I numbly moved to the bureau; I needed to get dressed. The staff had already unpacked our suitcases. I found a ton of sexy underwear, all with matching bras, in one of the drawers. There was a folded note on top of them.
I don’t know why you left, but I sure miss you. Wear a thong while you’re down there, okay?
Give a girl some hope!
~ Midge
Tears pricked my eyes as I folded the note. Midge, my maid, had always been good to me. She’d probably been upset that I left without saying goodbye. I hadn’t known her for long, but she’d become like family.
I obediently put another thong on and then scoured the drawers for something comfortable. Everything Midge had packed was insanely expensive and formfitting. Not that I was surprised by that! I pulled on a cropped T-shirt and a pair of soft black leggings that probably cost more than a week’s stay at the Ellsworth motel. I checked my reflection in the mirror. The outfit, though casual, did everything to show off my curves.God bless you, Midge.Even though I’d vowed to keep my distance from Bryce, I still wanted to look good.
The bathroom had a brand-new toothbrush and an array of designer cosmetics. I quickly brushed my teeth and hair, swiped on some mascara and lip gloss, and went out to the living room. No matter what had happened between us, no matter that we could never be together again, I wanted to be beside Bryce to watch the news of his father’s arrest.
He was sitting on the couch in front of an enormous flatscreen television, bourbon in hand. The breeze from the beach blew in, making the room comfortable and cool. Bryce’s feet were up on the table in front of him; he’d changed into sweat shorts and a T-shirt, all the better to show off his muscled physique. But despite the bourbon and the lack of a suit, he looked stressed. A line furrowed in between his brows as he stared at the screen.
I sank down next to him as the news anchor addressed the camera. “Earlier this afternoon, billionaire Gene Windsor was taken into custody.” An image of Bryce’s father, in handcuffs, being led from his gorgeous Maine estate filled the screen. Gene looked dapper and somewhat defiant in his linen trousers and white dress shirt, what was left of his thinning hair flapping in the ocean breeze. The federal agents led him to the dock and put him onto a boat.
“The founder and CEO of Windsor Enterprises is accused of insider trading involving a real-estate index fund that netted him close to a billion dollars,” the reporter continued. “If found guilty, the mogul could be fined up to twenty-five million dollars and receive a twenty-year jail sentence.”
The image cut to a family picture of Gene, his late wife, Bryce, and his brothers Colby and Jake. “In his absence, Windsor Enterprises will be run by his three sons—Bryce, Colby, and Jake Windsor. His eldest son Bryce was named acting CEO this morning.” A video of Bryce walking, flanked by Regina Hernandez and some other board members, filled the screen.
“Despite a recent scandal involving his wife, Bryce Windsor is highly regarded and seen as a competent predecessor to his father.” There were pictures of Bryce and me eating dinner at the restaurant on Spruce Island. Blessedly, they didn’t show any of me fighting Felicia Jones. “Still, Windsor Enterprises’s stock declined four-percent today. Investors report they are cautiously optimistic about the change in leadership but are waiting to see how the younger Windsor transitions. A spokesperson for the family, Olivia Jensen, said that Bryce Windsor had taken the weekend to spend with his family before beginning work next week.”
Bryce turned off the television, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. “Well, I guess it’s official.” He drained his glass.
“Are you okay?”
