pulled the first thread, Miller’s secret life began to unravel.
It was worse than I could have imagined.
He wasn’t cheating, but I almost wished he was.
Miller Fairfield was a fucked-up man.
I couldn’t even wrap my head around this stranger who’d been my brother-in-law for years. Had I ever known him?
Within three days, it was all laid out in front of me, and I was staggered by the extent of his depravity. This went beyond what the detective in Tennessee had suspected, and as of today, everything had been turned over to the FBI.
All I wanted to do was go home, sink inside my wife, and forget everything I’d learned. But I was no good. Too angry. Too bitter and confused to go home to Saoirse. She knew what was going on, though, and had promised to be waiting for me whenever I came home.
My fucking wife.
Elliot and Weston dropped everything to meet me for a drink. They both had companies to run, but I didn’t hesitate to ask them to leave early. Neither asked why. They showed up at the bar I’d named at four thirty sharp. Weston was doing better about a work-life balance, but Elliot rarely left work before eight p.m.
Yet he showed like he always did when push came to shove.
I was already one drink in. It had been necessary to settle my blood before I spilled all the ugliness everywhere.
I let them down half their drinks before I started talking.
“Miller has been cyberstalking and harassing a couple who run a business blog in Tennessee for the last six months.”
Elliot put his glass down on the table. “Fuck.”
Weston rubbed the deep line between his brows. “Why the hell has he been doing that?”
I shrugged, but my shoulders were too heavy to lift far. “This is all information I’m getting from the investigator, who’s been in contact with the detective working on the case. Theresa and Albert Graves run the Grave Business Report.”
Elliot frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Neither have I,” Weston agreed.
“That’s because only a few thousand people read it. I have no fucking clue how Miller found it, but the Graves’ published a few scathing articles about Rossi’s quarterly earnings report and the fluctuation of our stock prices. They had some things to say when I took over as CEO, but, hell, so did a lot of other journalists. I don’t know why Miller picked this blog to become obsessed with, but he did.”
Weston shoved his fingers through his hair. “What did he do exactly?”
“The harassment started with their email address being subscribed to things like the Satanic Temple, Nashville Kink Night, the Green Party…stupid, annoying shit. But annoying in the sense that they were bombarded day after day. And it didn’t stop there. The anonymous social media threats were next. Shut down or go down, basically. Then he doxxed their address online. He listed it for free puppies, on hookup sites, as the host of a swingers’ party…and people were showing up at their door.”
“Jesus,” Elliot uttered. “Is he really that stupid?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what was going through his mind. Maybe he snapped, had a mental break. I don’t give a damn. He terrorized these people. When Clara finds out—”
Weston clamped a hand on my shoulder. “When she finds out, you’ll be there for her.”
“She’s having his baby in less than a month.” My head fell, even heavier than my shoulders. “He sent them a pig fetus. Dead rats. Insects. But the worst part…the very worst part—he had a funeral arrangement delivered to the husband. And the following day, he sent him a book called Life After the Death of a Spouse. This couple is in their sixties. The detective said the husband had to be hospitalized with an irregular heartbeat due to the stress of all this. Miller could have really killed this man.”
Weston blew out a heavy breath. “Holy hell. I know he’s never been your favorite person, but this is next level.”
“He wasn’t my favorite person because I thought he was bland, not psychopathic.” I raised my head even though there was a knife lodged in my skull. “I don’t have any idea what the next step is. What am I supposed to do? There’s no manual on this.”
Elliot swirled his drink, the ice clinking. Of the three of us, he was the least ruffled, but that was Elliot. His way of showing he cared was coming in, taking care of what needed to be taken care of in the smoothest way possible, and always being there like an unmovable mountain.
“I’ll put you in touch with a crisis team. Rossi will need a plan on the corporate level. Trust them to implement one for the company. On a personal level, I don’t doubt you’ll handle it. Be there for Clara. Take care of anything she needs without question.”
Weston nodded along with what Elliot was saying. “And in the dustup, don’t neglect Saoirse and your relationship. No matter how big the crisis, you can’t put that on hold. Let her be there to lean on.”
Weston spoke from experience. When Andes had gone through a crisis, he’d put his complete focus into fixing it, leaving Elise alone in the dark. I wouldn’t repeat his mistakes.
I had a rough road ahead of me. When this went public, all hell was going to break loose. My only hope was to keep it quiet for as long as we could.
“Us too,” Elliot said. “Anything you need, contacts you require, we’re here. You’re not handling this alone, even if it feels like it.”
“I know I’m not.” I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “Never once have I not felt you at my back.”
Elliot lifted his chin. “Good. Don’t doubt it.”
Saoirse was waiting for me with her arms open when I arrived. I fell into them, into her, clutching her like the only buoy in the center of a maelstrom at sea. Neither of us could control how badly we would be battered, but if I held on to her, I’d see the other side of this.
I was sure of that to my bones.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know, pretty girl.”
Her fingers curled into the back of my shirt. “Tell me how to make it better for you.”
Heaving an exhale, I rolled my forehead on hers. “You’re doing it. All the ugly is waiting for me, but it doesn’t weigh as much right now. That’s all you. Stay with me.”
“You don’t have to ask.”
My mouth twitched. First almost-smile of the day, and of course, she was the one to draw it out of me.
“I didn’t.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “Come snuggle with me in the den.”
“Lead the way.”
Before I’d walked in this door, I’d had fucking on my mind. Hard and rough. Making her scream. Taking my frustrations out on her body. Satisfying the empty place in me by making her come over and over until we were both so exhausted that sleep took us over.
But then she climbed into my lap and covered us both with one of the throws I’d bought with her in mind. My head fell back on the cushions. Saoirse tucked her face in my throat and stroked my jaw with her fingertips.
This was peace.
The flip side of the coin.
Beyond these walls was chaos I would have to face, but that didn’t touch us. Not when we were together like this. She took my frustrations by being here. The empty place in me was filled with her presence.
Damn this woman.
She’d made it so that living without her would be a painful, ugly reality. I wasn’t interested in experiencing that. Not now, not two years from now. Whether Saoirse liked it or not, she was mine. She could fight me on it, but that wouldn’t change the fact that I was keeping her. That was what she got for blunting all the sharp and smoothing out the rough. She’d gotten me hooked on her. Going back to life before her didn’t hold even an ounce of attraction.
“I can’t do this without you,” I told her.
“You could, Luca. I know you could. But I’m here. It’s my job to make your life easier, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
A barb pierced my gut. Her job?
Tucking my knuckle beneath her chin, I drew her face up so I could look at her. Her full lips curved into a slow, easy smile.
“I’m not a job.”
“Luca.” Her palm flattened on my cheek. “Of course you’re not a job. I meant my job as your wife. The way I care for you goes way beyond the agreement we made. I hope that’s obvious.”
That should have made me feel better, but I wasn’t thinking about agreements when I had her in my arms. I was thinking about keeping her forever.
When all I did was frown, Saoirse shifted so she was straddling my legs and took my face in both hands.
“I’m here for you, Luca. If you want quiet, I’ll be quiet. If you want to yell and fight, we can do that. I know this shit with Miller and Clara is killing you. You don’t have to say it. I can see it in your face. But I want to be your soft place to land because you’re mine. That’s not a job or an agreement. It’s because we care for each other. Don’t turn away from me because I said the wrong thing. Please let me be here for you. Let me make it easier.”
Reaching up, I took her chin between two fingers. “You’re not working a job when we’re together.”
She shook her head. “No. This is real.”
“Don’t say that again.”
“I won’t.” Her fingers traced the downturned edges of my mouth. “You’re my favorite yes.”
Releasing a shuddering breath, I slammed my eyes shut. I was maddeningly in love with this woman. More vulnerable than I was comfortable being. But there was no helping it.
Saoirse Rossi was my wife.
Two years wasn’t going to be close to enough time with her.
I was beginning to believe two lifetimes wouldn’t cut it either.
