The signs had all been there. Warnings left and right. Her mind flashed back to that first night out with Georgette—the awkward moment when the silence all but screamed there was more than she knew. But instead of listening to instinct—she’d actively dismissed the concern.
Because she hadn’t wanted to be cynical. Ha!
What she hadn’t wanted was to face the truth.
Disgusted, Megan slapped a layer of tape across the top of the box. Bit the cap off her marker pen and scrawled the address of her apartment in Denver at the top.
Then, stacking the box with the other two, she looked around her at the house she’d thought would be her home. She’d spent the night breaking down the life she’d begun to build there. Dividing her belongings into two categories. Her life. And her life with Connor.
It was only the belongings from the former she would keep. And of those, there was only a handful she could pack herself and still catch her flight. The rest she would coordinate with Connor once she was back in her own space.
She didn’t have any fantasies about being able to leave and wash her hands of him forever.
They were married, after all.
Legally bound.
They would need to talk. But not here. Not today.
Guilt burned through her as she thought of Connor returning to find her gone.
He’d be livid. Feel betrayed.
But Connor had become too proficient at manipulating her. And as evidenced by his infuriating kiss, she was simply too weak to resist. Which meant this was the only way.
She couldn’t afford to stay in a situation where her will had become a casualty of Connor’s desires.
She’d built her life around doing the smart thing. Being practical. Responsible.
It was one of the things that had drawn Connor to her in the first place.
But around him, she didn’t make the smart decision. She didn’t do the right thing.
When it came to her husband, she threw caution to the wind and gambled on the feel-good. Telling herself she knew what she was doing...even when she had no idea.
It wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. And it wasn’t the life she wanted for the child she planned to have. She owed them both more.
Which was why she was leaving. Before Connor had a chance to change her mind.
* * *
Gone. Nine in the morning and already she was gone. The house quiet and still beneath the rusty sound of Connor’s breath sawing in and out of his lungs.
Goddamn it.
He’d thought she would wait. Thought her conscientious core of respect and sensitivity would be enough to ensure she wouldn’t leave without talking to him. Telling him to his face it was over.
At least, trying to.
But as sensitive and respectful as Megan was, beneath all that softness, she was smart. Too smart to give him the chance to talk her out of anything.
So she’d worked through the night. Packing only what she could take with her. Organizing the rest for his convenience.
He wanted to topple every damn piece of furniture in the place.
He couldn’t freaking believe she’d actually done it.
She wasn’t supposed to leave. She was supposed to calm down enough that he could talk sense to her. Remind her of the kind of life they could have together.
But instead, she’d caught some red-eye out, leaving him to find the life he’d planned for them dismantled into piles and labeled in her hand.
To hell with that.
Hands curling into fists at his sides, he stormed out of the dark office that still smelled like sunshine.
It wasn’t over.
She might have left, but it wasn’t as though she was out of reach. The only reason she would have gone without talking to him was that she’d been afraid he’d be able to coerce her to stay if they’d been face-to-face.
He was going to prove her right.
Go after her. Make her see reason. Make her come back. Forget about some halfhearted kiss that stopped nearly before it began. He’d seduce her. Completely. Start with his mouth and tongue. Back her against the wall because it drove her completely wild— and yeah, he wasn’t above using his body to exploit the weaknesses of hers.