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Fuck.
Watching as Georgina leaves with Freddie at her back, I try to give myself a chance to gather my wits. He wants a fight. I feel it in the marrow of my bones.
Shit.
I don’t have it in me.
The quiet is staggering. I don’t know what’s worse—this silence or the slew of angry words he’s grinding between his teeth. His jaw is so tight as he heaves every single one of his breaths.
For every second we stand in front of one another like this, another flame licks up my insides. Another piece of my crushed heart crumples to my feet.
Taking one step towards me, Christopher stops short of his toes touching mine.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he states. “You’re going to walk out of here and get into the car. Like the good little wife you vowed to be, you’re going to smile and charm every fucker that stops to talk to you. And you better fucking pray they don’t look too hard or too long, because I’m done being a fucking spectacle.”
He stares me down. I hold it hard. Our breaths are quick and loud, and you couldn’t hack the air around us with jackhammer if you were the world’s strongest man.
First rule of business: the first person to talk after a proposition loses. It’s just as well that I have no idea what to say. Perfectly timed that I am lost for words. The way he’s looking at me—I can’t tell if it’s disgust, disappointment, or resentment. Whatever it is, it’s a grenade with the pin pulled out and ready to explode.
“Christopher…”
It wasn’t a proposition anyway. It was a command, and as aware as I am of what it means for me to follow it, I can’t ignore it.
My feet move of their own accord to his instruction, under his glare.
What have I done?
What am I doing?
Chapter 14
Christopher
I’m done. If her goal was to break me—I’m broken. She couldn’t even answer the fucking question.
Are you fucking him?
All she had to do was say no. I would’ve believed her. I would’ve forgotten everything that’s happened between us the last six months, and I would’ve taken her back with open arms.
But no, she said nothing. Fuck all. Jack shit. In my experience, saying nothing is as good as admitting your guilt. And now, the papers in my suite feel like money burning a hole through a frivolous man’s pocket.
The sucker punch to all this is that looking at her right now, all I still see is the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. I’m so fucking mesmerised by everything that makes her that I can’t look away. Her beautiful face with those dark eyes that hold everything and then some in them. There’s a world behind those depths, a world I miss with every inch of me. I can’t think of anything more than getting lost in it again.
My hands ache with the need to brush my fingers through her hair. The lighter strands stop short of grazing her shoulders, framing the newer, sharper lines of her jaw and drawing all the attention to her full, rounded lips. There’s something about their straight, pouty set that exudes power and resilience, and fuck, I could get drunk off them. Off her.
Arabella is a fucking goddess.
But the thought of her with another man—it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s the scum of the earth—the thought of my goddess being touched by another man guts me. It makes me want to shake her and choke her and fucking destroy her like she’s doing me.
I want to rip her open and…
The thought clogs up my chest and turns my stomach.
I already did rip her open.
We’re here because of me. My decisions got us to this, and now I have no idea how to get us back to us. To Christopher and Arabella. I think those two people are gone, and I don’t know if I want them back. I’m not sure there’s a place in this world for them anymore.
The warmth of her fingers squeezing around my pinkie has my gaze darting down to where our arms rest on the wide armrest between us.
