An Improper Deal(51)

“No, I haven’t.” A slight twitch in Dennis’s hand betrays him as he takes her in. He hides it from Pete’s line of sight, but not from mine.

“Then say hello. Mrs. Reed, this is my intern Dennis Dunn.”

Her head tilts. “Dennis Dunn?”

The skin under the intern’s left eye tics.

She stands, her motion abrupt and inelegant. “Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.” Blindly, she reaches for her purse.

“I’ll show her where it is,” Dennis says, a little too eager.

“That won’t be necessary,” I say. “She knows where it is.”

She turns even paler. I tense, ready to catch her if she faints. The intern’s mouth thins briefly, but he nods with a smile that looks like he’s trying to hide food stuck between his upper incisors.

Dennis opens the door for her, and she stumbles past him, somehow keeping her chin up.

Since I have no intention of letting the man out of my sight, I make a bit of pointless chatter about the market while we wait, making sure to include him in the conversation.

After a few minutes, my wife comes back to the office. Her mouth is set in a vague smile, but she’s still stiff. I signal Pete. He dismisses Dennis, and he slinks away, his gaze on the back of my wife’s head.

Breathing noticeably easier, she finishes answering all the questions Pete asks. She acts pretty well, but I’m attuned enough to her now not to buy the show.

After the meeting’s over, we leave with further congratulations from Pete. I put a hand to the middle of her back and feel an almost imperceptible tremor.

I wait until we’re in an elevator. It’s after lunch, and nobody else is inside with us. “What’s wrong?”

She drops her eyes to my loafers. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you acting odd?”

“I’m just…” She turns her head toward me and gives me a pat smile. “It’s just overwhelming. I didn’t expect to have to find something to do with the money so soon.”

I cock an eyebrow.

“I haven’t thought about what to do with the money at all. It won’t be mine for a year anyway.”

“Do you know that intern?” I ask point-blank.

She steps away from me, but it doesn’t hide the flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s get something straight. I don’t like it when people lie to me.” I lean closer, so our noses are almost touching. “Who is he? Somebody you gave a lap dance to when you were working as a stripper?” That shouldn’t bother me. I know her past, but it makes me want to grind my teeth anyway.

“No!” She recoils. “He’s someone I knew back home. We just didn’t end well.”

I narrow my eyes. “An ex-boyfriend then.”

She sighs. “Yes. An ex. I just never expected to see him again, okay? We all have that one relationship we’d rather forget.”

That hits a bullseye, and this time I look away. Maybe her reaction wasn’t so extreme. I’m not sure if I would’ve been able to maintain even a semblance of calm if I were to see the ex from the one bad relationship I’d rather forget.

Still, the sense of unease refuses to leave. I wrap a hand around her waist and pull her closer.

Her body stiffens.

I rake my teeth over my lower lip. A sudden urge to make her as pliable as she was last night beats through me. I want her eyes glazed with a painful hunger only I can sate. My free hand wraps around the bar behind me as I stare at the mirrored doors. Her gaze is fixed somewhere beyond our reflections. Josephine did well to pick out the dress. It emphasizes the hourglass figure, the body that begs to be thoroughly fucked. Anna—

Gigi, I remind myself. The name still feels unfamiliar in my mind, and it takes me a fraction of a second to orient myself before using it.

I know she wants me to call her by her real name. If I were a better man I would. But I’m not.

And I will never call her Annabelle.





Chapter Twenty-Two



Annabelle

I’m grateful for the reprieve of the silent drive to Elliot’s home. His physical proximity, my fitful sleep last night and the unexpected encounter with Dennis churn my emotions. My nerves are shot from tension, my pulse erratic.

One minute at a time.

I can’t let events overwhelm me, push me until I’m out of control. Outwardly, I’m a married woman with a husband to lean on. The reality is I’m more alone than ever before. Nobody’s going to support me if I falter.

Elliot’s hand is loose and careless as it rests on the steering wheel. He’s acting entirely too casual and chill. If I was just slightly less in tune with his mood, I probably wouldn’t catch it, but I can feel the tension winding around him. And the crooked grin on his face holds a brittle edge.