I’m sick to my stomach.
Where is he?
It’s been over twenty-four hours and he hasn’t come home. He hasn’t texted or called. He hasn’t given any signs of life whatsoever.
It’s just after eleven pm now and he still hasn’t returned.
What if…what if he never comes back?
“I’m done.”
What did he mean by that? Did he…was he really saying he was done with me? With us?
It’s clawing at my insides not knowing if he truly meant those words.
If we’re over.
A sob rolls unbidden up my throat at the thought.
I took it too far yesterday, I know I did. I was so angry and hurt. By him, yes, but mostly by my father. I took years of resentment at feeling inferior out on Thiago instead of having a conversation and I regret it.
I regret it so fucking much.
If he just came home, I could tell him that.
I could apologize.
I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve been an asshole.
Being in this big house without him is a miserable experience. Last night was the worst night of sleep of my life. I kept jerking awake at the smallest noise, hoping that it was the sound of his key turning in the lock or his footsteps coming up the stairs that had awoken me. And every single time when I realized it was nothing, that I was alone in our massive, cold, empty bed, I dropped dejectedly back onto his pillow, sniffing for traces of his scent like a crazy person to try and imprint his smell into my senses.
When sleep wouldn’t come, I stared up at the ceiling for hours, tears silently falling off the sides of my face.
I can’t believe that I used to wish for this. For separate lives and never seeing him.
I’ve had a taste of it for a day and I’ve hated every single moment of it, so much so that I couldn’t go to work. Couldn’t focus on anything but those all-consuming thoughts, the distress making it impossible for me to eat anything. The only thing I’d been able to do was start to look at the financial files Thiago had given me.
There were thousands of pages over years but I focused first on the past year and a half, the key timeframe when the cartel had expanded to the UK.
I’ll need a lot more time to review the paperwork and understand the whole story, but patterns are starting to emerge. Pieces that indicate there’s indeed someone embezzling from the company. The picture is coming together little by little and I hope that with a bit more time, I’ll be able to go to Thiago with my findings.
If I do have more time, that is.
If he’s still interested in keeping me.
Violent nausea twists my stomach when I let my mind roam to thoughts of where he could have spent last night and of who he might have spent it with. I run to the bathroom and fall to my knees, dry heaving painfully into the toilet as I clutch the bowl for both physical and emotional support.
Could he have cheated on me?
A painful pang stabs my belly once more.
I’d have no one to blame but myself if he did.
But, God, I really, really hope he didn’t.
It would destroy me to hear he’s been with another woman. I’m disgusted by the mere thought of another man touching me and I’d hope he would feel the same, but I just don’t know.
He was so angry when he left.
“I’m done.”
My stomach churns at the painful memory, but another emotion pokes out from behind it. It starts out small, then progressively grows until it steels my spine.
Stubbornness. Determination.
What am I doing here, just waiting for him to maybe come home?
He’s not allowed to be done with me, actually.
I won’t let him.
He’s the one who married me, he has to own that decision until the very end.
I’m not going to wait and see if he makes the decision I want him to tonight, if he chooses to continue things with me.
Our story started with him chasing me down and it’s my turn to go after him now. I’m going to find him myself and bring him back. And just like he did with me, I won’t be giving him a choice.
I press a number in my contacts and bring my phone up to my ear.
“Where is he?” I ask.
A relieved sigh comes through the line.
“It’s about time you called. He’s at Tanta,” Arturo answers, rattling off the address without hesitation. I think I hear the hint of a smile in his voice. It’s more pronounced when he adds, “Sounds like you’ve made your decision.”
✽✽✽
When I arrive at Tanta less than thirty minutes later, Arturo is waiting for me outside the club.
“Did you take a taxi here?”
“Yes.”
He groans. “He’s going to have my cojones for that. Maybe don’t mention it to him.”
“He’s still here?”
“In his office. I’ll take you to him.”
I follow him inside, the noise of the club immediately overwhelming me. It’s almost midnight now and the party is raging. There are girls everywhere, every one of them more beautiful than the next. My belly flips in anxious agony.
We climb a set of stairs and head towards the back of the building where Arturo points to an unmarked thick black door.
“He’s in there.”
“Did you tell him I was coming?”
He shakes his head.
Uncertainty fills me, making my heart race. I’m afraid of what I’ll find on the other side of that door.
“Is he–” My words die in my throat. “Is he alone?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Open the door and find out.”
Completely unhelpful.
I take a deep breath, my palm closing around the handle. The breath gets caught in my chest as I press the door open and walk in.
Thiago is sitting at his desk. He’s leaning back in his chair, his head resting against the seat, his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls rhythmically as if he’s sleeping. I’d say he looks almost peaceful except his brows are furrowed like he’s being haunted by nightmares.
And he’s alone.
A tidal wave of relief consumes me, one so powerful that my knees almost give in. Emotion lodges itself thickly in my throat.
He’s alone.
His eyes open slowly at the sound of the door unlatching. They visibly dilate when he finds me standing in his doorway. The emotion in his gaze is indecipherable. I can’t tell if he’s glad, annoyed, or angry to see me, but there are unhappy lines around his mouth that open up a gaping hole in my chest. Even still, the electricity between us is tantalizing. He stares silently, his eyes boring so intently into mine that they raise my body temperature.
I feel hot and flush.
Weak-kneed and shaky.
Worse, unsure.
I hate this.
Unfastening first the belt of my jacket, then the buttons, I shuck my trench coat off and toss it on the couch to my left, getting immediate relief from the air circulating in the room.
His nostrils flare and his jaw grinds together when he takes in what I’m wearing. I’m in a matching pink pajama set consisting of tiny silk shorts and a strappy top, paired with low rise Ugg boots. I’m hardly in leaving-the-house appropriate attire — let alone in going-to-a-club appropriate attire — but I ran out of our home without bothering to change, grabbing my keys and coat and nothing else.
I walk up to Thiago’s desk with my heart in my throat. He licks his lips predatorily as he watches me approach but says nothing. His silence is so much worse than any recording my father could ever play for me.
“I’m sorry,” I offer candidly.
When I lift my gaze to meet his, I find gleaming eyes fixed on my face. Gruff words tumble precariously from his lips. “For what?”
“For taking my anger out on you and for the terrible things I said yesterday.” I shake my head. “I didn’t mean it, any of it, and you didn’t deserve it. You were right about everything. It doesn’t matter to me what you said in that recording. You’ve only treated me well since marrying me and that’s what’s important. Actions, not words.” My throat works with difficulty around the mass of emotion, but sincerity echoes in my voice. “I’m so sorry.”
My pulse thrashes loudly in my ears as I wait for his reply. He doesn’t make me wait long.
“Why did you come here?” he asks, low and uneven.
I lift my chin. “To bring you home.”
“That’s what you want?” he demands roughly.
I nod. “I don’t want to spend another night in our bed without you.”
“Why not?”
Because it was a miserable experience.
Because I love you.
“You take up so much room, you’d think I’d sleep like a baby without you there, but… everything was wrong. The sheets were too tight. The bed too big. And I was so cold, no matter how many blankets I wrapped myself in. I hated being in that bed without you. Wherever you slept last night, I’ll be burning that mattress like you burned the one in the guest room.” I pause, my lips twitching with emotion. I shake my head. “And just like you came after me once, it’s my turn to do the same and bring you home.”
He rakes his gaze slowly down my body before lifting heated eyes back up to mine.
“Dressed like that?”
I look at my long, bare legs and haphazardly buttoned top. My cheeks flush.
“It’s late, I was ready for bed but waiting up for you. When it became clear that you weren’t planning on coming home tonight, I left.” I lift a helpless shoulder. “I didn’t think about changing. All I cared about was finding you,” I admit.
He burns me up with his stare, but his gaze gives nothing away beyond that, making my anxiety soar.
Silence stretches for long moments before there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Thiago orders brusquely.
I look away, dismayed that he’d let someone interrupt us before saying something. He must still be furious with me to draw out my torture like this.
Joaquín walks in carrying a brown manila envelope and stops when he sees me standing there. He takes quick note of my attire, or lack thereof, and looks hastily up at the ceiling.
“Jefe, the lawyer just dropped off the documents you asked for,” he says, handing him the envelope.
Thiago takes it and my stomach hits the floor.
A lawyer?
Documents he wanted? And at this hour?
Surely that can’t be what I think it is… Not after one silly argument.
It must be cartel-related business.
“Thanks, you can go.”
As Joaquín closes the door behind him, Thiago slides his arm to the side and extends the manila envelope towards me.
“These are for you,” he says.
My fingers close around the documents and my heart cracks in half. Like the aftermath of a catastrophic earthquake, the impact fractures the surface of the needy organ, splitting it beyond repair. I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it rupture when the sound echoes so resoundingly in my own ears.
If this envelope contains what I think it does, then this is the end. “Are these divorce papers?” I whisper, my voice so small it’s barely audible.
Thiago’s face darkens violently, as if a supercell thunderstorm takes over his features and blackens them entirely. He stands, slowly unfolding himself to his full, towering height. There’s absolutely no trace of humor in his voice when he speaks, only a lethal edge.
“Are you hoping that’s what I just gave you?”
“No!” I shake my head vehemently. “That’s not what I want at all, but you spoke to a lawyer this late, so… I don’t know…”
A satisfied look gleams in his eye at my response. A small glimmer of hope flickers to life in my chest.
“Open it,” he orders.
Turning the envelope over, I reach inside. I take out a stack of documents about a quarter of an inch thick. I read the first line of the top page and my eyes fly up to Thiago’s in shock. The corner of his lips stretches into a smug grin and he tips his chin at me to keep reading. So I do. I read the entire topsheet before I look at him again.
“What— what is this, Thiago?”
He starts making his way around his desk. Every step that takes him closer to me steals breath from my chest until I’m finding it hard to access any oxygen at all.
“When your father couldn’t repay his twenty million pound debt within the allotted thirty days I gave him, he started owing me significant interest for every extra day he took beyond the deadline.” He nods at the documents. “What you have in your hands is what he used to pay off said interest. Five board seats for the Noble Group.”
I gape at him, my mouth on the floor. “He gave these to you?”
“He was happy to part with them when presented with the choice of them or his life.”
“But these are in my name,” I say, looking down at the topsheet held in my shaking hands then back up at him. “You’re giving them to me?”
Thiago comes to a stop before me, his large form towering over me. Heated, possessive eyes burn into the side of my face, lighting flames of arousal in my belly. “It’s your company. I’m simply giving you what rightfully belongs to you. What your father should have given you himself,” he adds with a dangerous growl. “Arturo overheard him firing you. He has no right to take the thing you care about the most away from you and I certainly wasn’t about to let that happen while I stood idly by and did nothing. I believe that these five seats, coupled with the two you and Tristan already have should give you the majority. With these, you can do more than keep your job; you can oust him and become CEO.”
His large hand closes around mine, calming the trembling that makes the pages shake. Warmth bursts to life where he touches me and spreads throughout my entire body.
My eyes lift back to his but I find that his gaze is fixed determinedly on the pages in my hand.
“But I’m also giving them to you for a selfish reason. You were right – you didn’t get to make a choice. Your father forced you and then I forced you. These give you the autonomy and financial freedom to choose for yourself — stay with me or leave me.”
He stares at the documents for a long time before his eyes slide up to mine, full of raw vulnerability and yearning. I don’t think this is a side of him he lets anybody else see. His hand moves up my arm and to my face where he cups my cheek. I tilt my head and press into his large hand.
“Stay,” he whispers, the word caught somewhere between a plea and a prayer. “I want you to stay.”
I blink and a thick tear crests past my waterline and falls down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb.
Alarm edges his tone. “Why are you crying?”
The maelstrom of emotions is overwhelming. I’d walked in so worried and scared for our future together, only to find that he had once again been working to protect me.
“Yesterday…you said you were done,” I say, my voice breaking as more tears slip down my face.
“Done?” Thiago’s face softens but his voice takes on an uncompromising edge. “I was done arguing that specific topic, but I will never be done with you. Get that through your head.”
“You didn’t come home after I– after I told you to go to Claudia. I wondered if…” I trail off, incapable of even saying the words out loud.
“Amor,” he growls, gripping my face tightly between his hands. “I slept on the couch behind you last night. You’re the only woman I’ve slept with in years. The only woman I think about all day long and want to bury myself inside the second I come home. Why would I ever go to anyone else?”
“Because I was stupid and pushed you away.”
“You weren’t stupid. We had a fight and I’m sure we’ll have many more. I’m sorry too, for making you think for one second that you weren’t exactly who I wanted.” He brushes the hair gently away from my face. “But you were wrong. I was coming home to you tonight and I was planning on doing whatever it took to make you see the error of your ways. All I was waiting for was the documents to be notarized over to you. You beat me to it by coming to find me, but I couldn’t have stayed away another night either.” His hand tightens on the side of my neck. “And you, coming here, looking for me? Claiming me?” he murmurs throatily. “You have no idea. If I could cut myself up and show you how frantically my thoughts race for you, how madly my blood runs for you, how desperately my heart beats for you, it would scare you to fucking death.”
A bubble of relief bursts past my lips when his mouth comes down and covers mine. The kiss is hard and desperate and full of deep longing. He claims my body with greedy fingers and rough caresses, his mouth moving over mine with a famished kind of hunger that takes my breath away.
He’s gentle at first, but then his grip turns bruising and possessive. He rips his lips off mine, breaking away from me to catch his breath and leaving me with lips swollen from his attack. His chest rises and falls jaggedly, but that’s not what captures my attention. It’s the expression in his eye. He looks at me like he physically needs more, like not having his lips on mine causes him bodily pain.
“What do you choose?” he asks, voice roughened by lust. Hard breaths fan across my lips. “I should warn you that if you decide to leave me it doesn’t mean I won’t follow. I’m giving you a choice when I don’t have one, because I can’t live without you.”
My arms come around his neck and I pull him down to me, finding his mouth with mine and kissing him with all the emotion held in my soul. He groans as he pulls me closer, trapping me against his body with rough hands.
It’s only been twenty four hours, but I’ve missed him terribly. Being back in his arms feels like being anchored back at home after a night out on stormy seas. I don’t want to be anywhere else.
“I don’t need documents, I made my choice a long time ago,” I breathe. “I’m never leaving you.”
Golden eyes flash, his pupils dilated to the size of quarters. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Thiago slams his mouth savagely down on mine, pushing me roughly back against his desk. He grabs my ass and hoists me into his arms. Our mouths are level now and he uses that new angle to deepen our kiss. My pussy rubs lewdly against his hard length until we’re both making obscene sounds of pleasure.
His hand closes around the front of my throat and squeezes, applying pressure to separate us.
“Remember what I told you would happen if you ever brought up divorce again?”
I shake my head even though I do remember.
His voice turns honeyed as he whispers the words against the shell of my ear. “That I would whip your ass.”
I moan in response and his hand tightens around my throat.
“Do you think you deserve to be punished?”
“Y-yes.”
He releases me and I slide slowly down his body until my feet touch the floor.
“Bend over my desk and show me where you want me to punish you.”
