“No,” Celeste says, crossing her arms as she leans back in her desk chair, staring me down. “I want to keep that hotel in our portfolio. This is a merger — you don’t get to pick and choose by yourself. We’ll decide together.”
I mirror her posture and glare at her. Nothing has changed between us since that moment we shared on the sofa at home a few weeks ago. I’ve kept staying out late, and she hasn’t brought it up since, both of us pretending that night never happened.
She’s a little easier to read now, though. It took me a little while to figure it out, but I now realize that when too much time passes without me giving her anything but my professional self, she gets agitated and begins to argue with me at work. Shortly after we slept together, we worked as efficiently as we used to, back when I thought we’d build a fucking empire together. As the weeks pass without us having a personal conversation, without seeing each other much at home, her attitude changes, and she begins to cross me just to get a reaction. It used to frustrate me when she became so difficult to work with, but now it just amuses me. She wants my attention, and she doesn’t even realize it, wouldn’t ever admit it.
“I do get to choose, since I’m the one that has to fund this shitty loss-making hotel of yours.”
She rises to her feet and leans forward, her palms flat on her desk. She’s so beautiful when her eyes flash like that, her long curly hair framing her body. She’s in a black dress today, and all morning, I’ve been wondering what’s underneath. “Last I checked, I was your wife,” she tells me, her tone threatening. I love it when she reminds me of that little fact, which she does more and more often these days. “What’s yours is mine, and I’m funding this.”
I bite back a smile. “Not without my signature, you’re not.”
She walks around her desk, her long legs on display for me, and fuck, they’d look so pretty spread on my desk. Something in her gaze shifts when she realizes I’m checking her out, and I school my features, refusing to give her what she’s after. Each day, it becomes harder to keep my distance, but today isn’t the day I’ll fail. “I’ll go over your head,” she tells me, placing her knee between my legs, on the edge of my seat. I’m so tempted to grab her and make her ride my cock in that sexy dress of hers, but I don’t.
“Try me. You won’t like the consequences. I haven’t touched any of the assets you told me had sentimental value, but this one you just want to keep for the hell of it. I’m not having it.”
She places her hands on my shoulders, and I lean back, simply watching her and resisting the urge to hold her waist. It annoys her when I don’t touch her. It’s become my favorite thing to do — watch her get riled up and storm over to me. She’ll run her hands all over me, in supposed anger, and the longer I resist touching her back, the angrier she gets. It’s fucking beautiful. “So if I tell you it has sentimental value, you’ll let me have it?”
My eyes flash at her words. She knows exactly what she’s doing, my crazy wife. She slides her knee forward slowly until she’s grazing my cock. “Will you let me have it, Zane?”
I run a hand through my hair, unable to hide how fucking hard she makes me when her knee presses against me like that. She smiles victoriously, and for a moment, I wonder if we could make it after all. She still wants me, that much is clear. Is there any way we could overcome the past like our grandparents hope we will? Can we learn to trust each other again? She nearly single-handedly destroyed everything I built, and I barely survived it the first time.
“No,” I tell her. My hands wrap around her waist, and I gently push her away.
Celeste’s eyes widen, confusion and a tinge of hurt flickering through them. “Why? If we restored it, it could easily become profitable.”
I shake my head and roll my chair backward, creating more distance between us. Her expression shutters closed and she crosses her arms, something decidedly vulnerable about her posture. “Even so, there are better things we can invest in. This property no longer suits our brand, and we’d have a higher return investing in something else. You know that as well as I do, Celeste.”
Her gaze roams over my face, and she studies me carefully for a moment. “You’re right,” she says, surprising me. She buries a hand in her hair and draws a shaky breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment. When she opens them again, she has the same blank and professional look on her face that she gives everyone else. It instantly makes my heart ache, and it hits me then — is this what it feels like for her when I act the same way?
“I apologize, Zane,” she says, her arms falling to her side. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.” I can’t tell what she’s apologizing for, the bad investment call, or the way she just touched me. Perhaps it’s both.
She turns and takes a step away, but I grab her wrist and hold her in place. Celeste freezes and looks over her shoulder, her brow raised. “You can have it,” I tell her, the words escaping my lips before I’ve had a chance to truly think them through. “The hotel. If you want it, it’s yours.”
She blinks at me in confusion, but then the biggest smile transforms her face, and something akin to hope sparkles in her eyes. Fucking hell. I caved. Again. In this battle of wills, I’ll always lose, because it means seeing her smile like that.
“No,” she murmurs, her tone so fucking sweet. “It’s okay. You’re right, Zane. It’s not a good investment. We should get rid of it.”
I smile back at her, my heart beating faster than it did moments ago. She’s an addiction in the making, one I barely managed to kick the first time. Celeste is dangerous to me, but fuck, no matter how hard I fight, it’s a losing battle.
I let go of her wrist when my phone rings, a frown making its way onto my face as I pick it up. “Hello?”
“Zane,” Clara says. I look up at Celeste, whose gaze flickers with curiosity. “You owe me an apology.”
My eyes widen, and I grip my phone with both hands. “What happened?” I ask my mother-in-law, slightly panicked. “What did I do?”
“You’ve been married to my daughter for over two months, and you haven’t come to the Saturday cooking classes I’ve been inviting you to. If I hear one more weird excuse, I’ll come drag you over myself. Am I making myself clear?”
I clear my throat and sit up straight, angling away from Celeste. “I promise this is the first I’m hearing of this,” I explain, my tone eager to placate her. “I would never turn down a request to visit you. I’m really sorry this happened.”
Clara falls silent for a moment, and then she huffs. “Celeste,” she snaps. “She never told you, did she?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Clara sighs. “Is she with you?”
“Yes.”
She chuckles, and I can’t help but smile back. “Very well. Let’s see what excuse she’ll give me this time then. My daughter is about to find out what happens when she lies to me. I expect you to be there on Saturday morning, and you’re spending the night. Understood?”
I chuckle and look out the window as I imagine the angry, motherly look on her face. I missed her. While Celeste and I dated, she was the closest thing to a mother I had, and though I’m reluctant to admit it, I’d hoped we could repair our relationship. “Understood,” I tell her. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
She ends the call, and Celeste stands rooted in place, her arms crossed. I take in my wife, noting the anger and insecurity in her gaze. This is why it could never work between us, because when we fell apart, we broke the solid foundation that made us who we were.
