Marriage With Benefits(59)
“Any venture tied to Allende is a gold mine,” the third declared. “How could you not be in after Wheeler’s fantastic sales pitch? The property’s in great shape. Most of the updating will be cosmetic, and the renovation contract is already on my lawyer’s desk.”
The property? Lucas had taken people to the site? How many people?
“Domestic violence is a little, shall we say, uncouth?” the fourth one suggested with a laugh. “But the Hispanic community is a worthwhile demographic to tap from a charitable perspective. It’ll cinch my bid for mayor. That’s the kind of thing voters want on your résumé.”
Acid scalded her stomach. No. She hadn’t misheard. Lucas had charged ahead without her—without her permission or even her knowledge. He’d made the proposed shelter site public, rendering it useless.
What more had Lucas done? Had he been presenting an alternative to divorce or a done deal?
What exactly had the necklace been an apology for?
Twelve
Lucas and Cia had been home a good twenty minutes and she hadn’t spoken yet. In the car, she’d blasted him with a tirade about an overheard conversation, which she’d taken out of context, and then went mute. That alone chilled his skin, but coupled with the frosty set of her expression, even a stiff drink didn’t melt the ice forming along his spine. So he had another.
Then he went looking for her.
The little ball in the center of the mattress was quiet, so he eased onto the edge of the bed. “I didn’t know they were going to make such a big deal out of it.”
Nothing.
He tried again. “Talk to me, honey. Scream at me. I don’t care, as long as you don’t keep up this deep freeze. This is all a big misunderstanding. I can fix it.”
“Fix it?” The lethal whip of her tone sank into his skull, which was already sloshy with alcohol and the beginnings of a headache. She sat up, and the light from the bedside lamp cast half of her scrubbed face in shadow. “You’ve done enough fixing for today, Machiavelli. I’m tired. Go away and sleep somewhere else.”
“Ouch. I’m in that much trouble?” He grinned, and she didn’t return it. So, jokes weren’t the way to go. Noted. “Come on, darlin’. I messed up. I shouldn’t have taken people to the site. I’ll find another hotel for your shelter if that site’s compromised. It’s not worth getting so upset over.”
“Do I seem upset?” She stared at him, and her dry eyes bothered him more than the silent treatment. Unease snaked through his gut.
“No.” He’d wandered into the middle of uncharted territory full of quicksand. This had all the trappings of their first official fight as a couple. Except they weren’t really a couple—yet—and, technically, they argued all the time. “Does that mean you’ve already forgiven me?”
She palmed her forehead and squeezed. “You really don’t get any of this, do you?”
“Yeah, I get it.” Somehow, his plan to come up with the operating expenses for the shelter hadn’t happened as envisioned. “You’re ticked because I tried to tap sponsors for the shelter site, and now the location is compromised. I’m in real estate, darlin’. I’ll find another one. A better one.”
“I’m sure you will. Eventually.” She lay back down and covered her head with an arm, blocking his view of her face. His firecracker’s fuse was noticeably fizzled. How could they get past this if she wouldn’t yell at him?
“Cia.” He waited until she peeked out from below the crook of her elbow. “I should have talked to you before talking to the money. I’m sorry. Let’s kiss and make up now, okay?”
“No. No more kissing. This isn’t only about the shelter.” Her voice was steady, a monotone with no hint of the fire or passion she normally directed at him. “It’s about you running the show. You say I have a choice, but only if it’s a choice you agree with. I’m not doing this anymore. In the morning, I’m moving back into my condo.”
“What? You can’t.” This situation was unraveling faster than he could put it back together. But whatever happened, he couldn’t let her leave. He wiped damp palms on the comforter and went with reason. “We have a deal. Six months.”
The arm came off her face, and bitter laughter cut through the quiet bedroom. “A deal, Wheeler? We have a deal? Oh, that’s rich. We have a deal when it’s convenient for you to remember it. Every other waking moment, you’re trying to alter the deal. Presenting alternatives. Trying to give me money. Talking about babies with your mother and seducing me into believing you really understand me. It’s all about the deal, isn’t it? As long as it’s the best deal for you. What about what I want?”