Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Tell me the truth for starters. Is that really so difficult to ask a husband to do?”
“You’re jealous,” he accuses.
“No,” I shake my head insistently. “I’m not jealous Damien, I’m worried. You’re secretive and sneaking around, telling someone to stay away. Most women might think you’re having an affair, but I am not most women. You’re my husband. What happened to being my partner, my confidant?”
Something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone quickly. “That’s what I love about you, kitten. You’re always practical. Caring.”
I shake my head. “I love you too, but your compliments won’t get you out of this. Not this time. You know what I think? I think the killer is playing games with you, and that you think you’re keeping me safe by not involving me and that’s fucking stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. He’s going to set a trap for you, and I won’t get to you in time because you don’t trust me enough to involve me in what’s going on, damn you!” My legs shake as the truth crashes down around me. “Oh my God, you don’t trust me.” I look around and make it to the sofa before my legs give out.
“Francesca, that’s not true.”
“It is true. It’s my job to catch this guy and you think I can’t do it. You don’t trust me; you don’t believe in me.” My heart breaks in two at the realization.
“Are you serious?” he yells. “You are the most capable woman I’ve ever known. Of course you’ll catch this jerk. I believe in you. I can’t believe you said that.” He runs one hand and then the other through his hair before exhaling deeply.
“Then tell me who called.”
A storm brews in his hazel eyes as he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Exactly.” I rise and shake my head in disbelief.
“This is absurd. I’m heading to the office where I can find some peace.”
Tears form in my eyes, and I shake my head. “Well, if The Butcher comes after you, just know that I love you.”
Damien shakes his head at me, furious as hell, but he doesn’t say a word. He grabs his keys and wallet and storms out of the penthouse, leaving an angry silence in his wake.
I stomp back up the stairs. I can’t believe I gave up dinner with Amelia for this shit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Frankie
After a night that felt more like a wrestling match with insomnia than actual sleep, I stumble out of bed and drag myself through my morning routine. The clock’s mocking me, a reminder that waking up without Damien’s arms wrapped around me is a special kind of hell.
I miss the warmth of his chest pressed against my back, the steady rhythm of his heart that usually lulls me into a blissful slumber. It’s infuriating, really. I’m bone-tired and seething, but a quick shower later, I’ve got a plan.
My stomach rumbles nervously as I take the elevator up to the executive offices of Wolfe Industries. The sleek office building is intimidating as hell, but I stuff it down the same way I do when I have to question the alibi of a Hollywood studio executive or the child of a legendary celebrity. I swallow the nerves and focus on my mission, which helps me stay calm.
I smile when I spot Jess even though her words from the wedding are stamped on my mind. Be careful who you trust. I’m always careful, but her words linger and make me question everything and everyone. “Hi, Jess. Is he in?”
She looks cautious, but she gives a slight nod, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “He is. Go on in.”
I nod and take a deep breath in front of his door, exhaling as I grab the handle and twist it slowly. Damien is inside with his gaze on a bank of screens, looking every bit the god of the tech world everyone thinks he is.
“I don’t have time now, Jess.” He doesn’t even look up and I take in the sight of him, beautiful and commanding and so in charge of his world.
“You want me to come back later?” I nibble my bottom lip, something I often do when I’m nervous and I don’t like it. This is my husband, the man I pledged my life to, a man who I shouldn’t be nervous around.
He blinks quickly before shaking his head. His gaze flicks from the screens to me. “Francesca. What are you doing here?” His gaze is dark and intense when it settles on me. “Is everything all right?”
“No.” I fold my arms across my chest and watch him carefully. “I’m not okay, Damien. I don’t like fighting with you.”
He sighs and stands from the buttery soft office chair. “I don’t like fighting with you either.”
“I was worried about you.” I hate that I sound weak, something I’ve worked hard my entire adult life to avoid. “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”