Chapter 3 #2
“Sometimes the memories come back to you later,” the cop explained, arm outstretched as he handed me his card. “You should keep this just in case. I’m sure the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet. Maybe tomorrow you’ll remember something, so try and write that stuff down and call me immediately.”
Nodding at him, I sent him a tiny smile. “I will. Thanks.”
I was lying to him. Right to his face, right with my husband next to me. I had exactly what they wanted. I had a name, and knowing who Bridger was would surely make tracking down the other two men a lot easier, but I bit my tongue, keeping that information close to my chest.
The cop nodded. “But if you’d like, we can take you down to the—”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Gordon answered for me. “You’ve taken our statements, so I say that we’re done here. Once you track down those scumbags, call me immediately. I think it’s a good idea if you leave now. We wouldn’t want your superiors to know that you didn’t comply with my wishes.”
Gordon’s words were firm. He had a lot of pull in Chicago as one of the city’s most successful lawyers—not to mention him being one of the richest men in the country.
Everyone knew his face, his name, his worth.
The Cavendish name was embedded with prestige and wealth and notoriety.
It was why my parents had been so intent on their only daughter marrying him.
We were old money. But he was old, old money.
“Of course, sir,” the cop said. The stern words of my husband had gotten to him.
A simple surname could make the proudest man weak.
“You two should rest. You might wanna get someone in here to fix the cameras and change the locks. We’re not sure how they were able to mess with your security system, but it’s fried to hell and back. Be safe.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
The other officer that had turned up was lingering by the front door, jotting down notes. Gordon showed them out and then he was storming back into the living room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he stared straight at me.
“Did he touch you or not?” he asked bluntly.
I scoffed. “No.”
“You need to tell me if he did.”
“He didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Completely.”
“He didn’t touch you at all?”
“He didn’t do anything like that.” And I could never imagine Bridger doing something so cruel. He was a criminal. A delinquent with a penchant for causing trouble just about everywhere he went, but that? No. Never in a million years would he sink that low.
“Don’t lie to me, Juliette.”
“Are you concerned that he assaulted me, or is this coming from a different place?”
Gordon inhaled sharply. “I don’t want my plan ruined. It’s already taken so long.”
I rolled my eyes, pushing myself away from the couch. “You’re unbelievable,” I muttered. “You’re mad because he might have touched your property, not because he could have hurt me.”
“No one said the P word. You know you’ve been having issues getting pregnant, so if someone has gotten in the way of that… Well, Juliette, there will be consequences.”
“For who?” I laughed. “For me? Nothing happened. He didn’t do that. He would never do that.”
Gordon stepped closer to me. “He who?”
“I mean…” I had slipped up. I rubbed at my temples, trying to force myself to focus. “He told me he wouldn’t do it. He said he wasn’t going to hurt me. The man. Whoever he was…”
“And you’d be dumb enough to believe the words of a man who just broke into your home and stole from you.
All of my watches are gone. Limited edition ones.
Not to mention my laptops, my cufflinks, my suits, my custom leather briefcases, all of that cash in the safe.
And you’re stupid enough to think that he wouldn’t hurt you. ”
“He didn’t touch me, he didn’t hurt me, he didn’t do anything.
All you’re worried about is my body, Gordon.
What I can give to you and what I can’t.
Aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you exhausted?
” The conversation had quickly turned into something entirely different.
We had gone from me having to defend Bridger—whether my husband knew I was doing that or not—to that conversation again. Pregnant. Baby. Inheritance.
Gordon shrugged, eyes as cold as ever. “I guess… I guess that’s because I do think of you as my property. No one wants their property getting damaged, Juliette.”
He walked away from me, heading out of the room and towards the staircase, the heavy sound of his feet on the steps in my ears. Slowly, I sat down on the couch, arms crossing over my chest.
I hadn’t been expecting any kind of long, lingering hugs from him.
I avoided his embrace every chance I got, because I knew that whatever was between us wasn’t love.
But there was one fact that I couldn’t forget, how the saddest part was that even though Bridger Underwood had broken into my home—ready to steal, ready to take from me and Gordon—he had still treated me with more tenderness in those fifteen minutes than Gordon had during our entire marriage.
I could have trembled then and there as I remembered the feeling of Bridger’s gentle fingers on my shoulder.
The way he had stroked at my skin, the movements light and soft and lingering.
It was how he used to touch me, back when I was his and he was mine.
He was making me miss him more than he deserved.
I hated him even more for it.