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Was he letting me go?
He slept with someone else. He saw me nearly making out with my childhood sweetheart. And surely, after he’d seen the mess I’d made in his closet, his feelings toward me would only take a nosedive, if that were even possible.
I made my way to the walk-in closet, crouching down and grabbing the shears for protection, just in case. I plastered my back against a row of drawers and tried to regulate my breathing.
I heard the clink of his tumbler as it hit the glass bar, then his approaching steps. My pulse kicked up a notch.
He stopped on the threshold and stared at me emotionlessly, his jaw granite, his eyes steel.
The pile underneath me mounted up to my lower thighs. There was no mistaking how I’d spent the better half of my afternoon.
“Do you know how much money you just destroyed?” he asked, his tenor reserved and detached as ever.
He didn’t care that I ruined his clothes, and that made me feel hopeless and lost.
He felt completely untouchable and out of reach, a lonely star hanging in the sky, twinkling bright, galaxies away from my violent hands that demanded retaliation.
“Not enough to cost me my pride,” I snipped the air with the shears, feeling my nostrils flaring.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe.
“What’s eating you, Nemesis? The fact that your boyfriend had a date yesterday, or the part where I fucked said date?”
So now I got an admission out of him.
For whatever reason, part of me wanted to give Senator Keaton the benefit of the doubt about what happened with Emily behind closed doors.
But now it was real, and it hurt.
God, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. Like a punch to my empty stomach.
Betrayal, no matter by whom, cracks something deep inside you. Then you have to live with the pieces rattling in the pit of your stomach.
Senator Keaton was nothing to me.
No.
That wasn’t true, either.
He was everything bad that’d ever happened to me.
“Angelo, of course,” I huffed incredulously, my fingers tightening around the shears.
His eyes darted to my white-knuckled grip over my weapon. He shot me a smirk that said he could disarm me with only a blink, let alone his entire body.
“Liar,” he said tonelessly. “And a lousy one at that.”
“Why would I be jealous of you being with Emily when you were hardly jealous when Angelo cornered me?”
I fought the tears that clogged my throat.
“For one thing, because she was a fantastic lay, and Angelo is a very lucky guy to have her sweet, expert mouth at his disposal,” he taunted, unbuttoning the first button of his dress shirt.
Heat slashed through my veins, making my body hit temperatures more fitting for a furnace.
He’d never spoken any sexual words to me, and until now, our marriage felt more like a punishment than a real thing.
When the second button released, a hint of dark chest hair peeked back at me.
