10. Wyatt
10
WYATT
I’m grumpy in the morning, my eyes bleary, my head in a fog. I blame Matthias. I might have hogged the covers and slept in a bed that was far too comfortable and probably far too expensive, but knowing he was next to me only made it terrible. I dozed more than I slept and I’m feeling it this morning.
Matthias didn’t seem to have the same problem, merrily snoozing away next to me as soon as he closed his eyes.
Dick.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Matthias says, bringing me a cup of coffee as I sit up in bed. I’m struggling and it doesn’t help that he’s calling me pet names.
“Get lost. I’m no one’s sunshine.”
“No, more like a rainy cloud. Hm, how about I call you my little cloud.”
“Hell no. If you do, I’ll stab you.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “We wouldn’t want that,” he says, handing me a mug full of some kind of latte. I scowl at it and then at him before taking a sip. Flavor bursts over my tongue and I make sure not to show how delicious it is. I’ve been living off instant ground coffee since I lost everything. The kind you put in warm water and mix. This is so much better. I saw that fancy espresso machine in the kitchen. I might have lusted after it for a long moment, remembering a similar one I had just a year ago.
I know he made this. I can tell it’s his. I can taste it.
“Passable,” I reply and Matthias arches an eyebrow.
“I’d say it’s more than passable. But then again, feel free to insult Jules. He’s the one who slaved over it.”
I glower at him, pissed that I got it wrong. I’m not insulting anyone but Matthias. I’m not like that. Especially not Jules. If I’m going to be living here, I want him to like me and keep making me delicious food.
Maybe I can use this time to build up some of my muscle mass again.
Matthias claps his hands together, looking altogether too pleased with himself. “Now, get up, my little rain cloud. We’re going to eat breakfast and then plan our honeymoon.”
My mind screeches to a halt. “Um—what?”
“Our honeymoon,” he repeats slowly, as though such a thing should be obvious. And for most other married couples, it is. But we aren’t a real couple.
No matter how much Matthias wants the world to see us as one.
“Absolutely not,” I seethe. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Matthias.”
His brows rise. “Oh, do you have an issue with spending a week on a tropical island?”
“I do if I’m spending it with you,” I say darkly.
Matthias steps closer, moving until his knees are pressed against the bed. “That’s funny. The Wy I once knew dreamed of escaping to an island. Somewhere warm, where he could hear the ocean from every window.”
Fury scalds me, searing through my veins like fire. “He no longer exists, you made sure of that.”
For the first time, I see Matthias’s composure crack. His nostrils flare, hands going into fists. “Of course that’s what you believe.”
I blink up at him, surprised to see this reaction. “What else am I supposed to believe, Matthias? You were the one who asked me to go there. Begged me. You were the one who didn’t show. I was the one who paid the price.”
Matthias closes his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose. When he finally opens them again, the storm has cleared. “You know nothing of the price I paid, Wy.”
He stalks away toward the door. “Don’t make me drag you naked downstairs. You have fifteen minutes to get yourself ready. If you’re not there, I’ll be the one to fetch you. And Wy? You don’t want that.”
I swallow more of the latte and try to sort through my confusion. What price could Matthias have paid? He got to continue his life, his record unsullied. Sure, it’d been resolved for me, but that night still lingers to this day.
He must be bullshitting, I conclude. There’s no way he faced any consequences. Why would he have? He wasn’t there.
And from that night on, I never heard from him again. Not until the day he walked into Lawson and Smith as one of the new owners.
Hell , I think as I gulp the latte down, smacking my lips in appreciation even though I tell them not to do that. I don’t know what Jules put in here, but it’s good.
I should ask him what vegetables he uses the most in his dishes. Maybe I can grow some for him as an apology for my behavior.
Maybe I’ll even grow some weed. For recreational use, of course.
Get me through this hellish time.
The idea of getting stoned makes my steps lighter as I move out of bed. I have a plan , I think as I scrub at my teeth and get dressed. I focus on that rather than everything else Matthias said. The honeymoon.
The supposed price he paid.
When I make it down to the kitchen, Matthias is sitting at the island, Jules humming happily by the stove, something delicious cooking. I can smell it. My stomach rumbles in appreciation.
Matthias makes a big show of checking his watch. “You made it on time.”
Yeah, like he wasn’t watching the seconds tick by, hoping he could follow through on his threat. I don’t respond, ignoring him completely. That’s my plan—pretend he doesn’t exist, plant vegetables for Jules, and grow weed to get high.
Brilliant. I’m so fucking smart. I feel myself puff up internally as I take a seat as far away from Matthias as I can. His gaze hits mine and his lips twitch. I want to throw something at his head. I eye a muffin but don’t want to insult Jules by tossing it at his stupid face.
I resist the urge.
Instead, I focus on Jules, engaging him in conversation as he whips up something that smells amazing. Something wealthy and rich. Something I haven’t been able to afford in ages.
“It’s honeymoon eggs,” Jules says, and I roll my lips between my teeth.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Of course not, but you will taste it and love it, yes?” Jules grins at me, and I can’t help but smile back.
Damn this guy. It’s literally impossible to be grumpy around him.
I know Matthias sees my grin too because he huffs a small laugh at my expense. And look at that—I’m that stormy cloud once again.
I’m considering words to throw at Matthias, something acerbic and witty, when someone else appears in the kitchen. His dark hair is slightly chaotic, his coat half hanging on, tie draped across his shoulders. He looks like a younger Matthias but more wild. There’s something unbidden and mysterious about him.
Matthias tenses as the man draws nearer, making me instinctively warm toward the stranger. Anyone who gets Matthias’s hackles up is all right with me.
“Hey, big brother!” the guy says with a crooked grin. He slaps Matthias on the back and Matthias grunts, his eyes darting over to me. I’m curious, does Matthias’s family know the truth about us? Do they even know he’s married now? Matthias is doing this for an inheritance, so maybe they don’t. They weren’t at the wedding, but then again, neither was Jackson.
Matthias’s back is as stiff as a board. “What are you doing here?”
The man’s grin gets wider, like he knows he’s pissing Matthias off and he loves it. “Inviting myself for breakfast. Had a bit of a bender last night and need some sustenance. And you know Jules does it for me. Besides, I couldn’t wait another second to meet your husband.”
Well, that clears up whether he knows about the marriage. The only question now is if he thinks it’s real or not.
Matthias sighs as his brother takes a seat right next to me, holding out his hand. “I’m Harley. And you must be Wy.”
“Wyatt,” Matthias growls, shooting daggers at Harley. “Only I call him Wy.”
“And I’ve asked you not to, repeatedly,” I say.
“Yeah, he doesn’t really listen,” Harley says, speaking behind his hand, conspiratorially. “Doesn’t talk much either, unless it’s about you. Can’t shut him up then. Been the same for fucking years now—Wy this and Wy that.”
If my brows went any higher, they’d form part of my hairline. Matthias, meanwhile, has buried his head in his hands.
Harley continues, either oblivious to or uncaring about the effect his words are having on his brother. “Anyway, I’m the baby of the family. The one they coddle and pay off.”
Matthias lifts his head to glare at Harley. “Perhaps if you were better behaved, we wouldn’t need to coddle you…or clean up your messes.”
I ignore what Harley said about Matthias always talking about me. Having my own little brother, I recognized it for what it was—one sibling trying to get a rise out of the other.
Well, if that’s how Harley wants to play it, I’m more than happy to help. Sleeping naked in Matthias’s bed didn’t get under his skin.
Perhaps chatting with his brother will.
“Nice to meet you, Harley,” I respond, offering Harley a wide smile along with my hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I haven’t. He spoke about them generally, but I never knew more than that. It was an open secret, just like I never spoke about my life. But I can pretend. I can fucking lie.
“Oh, have you? How nice of you, Matty-poo,” Harley says with a laugh. “He pretends his family doesn’t exist most days. He’s mortified by us. Says I’m unhinged.”
“I am mortified by you,” Matthias sighs. “But I don’t pretend I don’t have a family. I know I have one. I even tolerate most of you.”
I roll my eyes. Tolerate. That sounds like Matthias.
Does it? He never seemed to just tolerate you when you were young.
Yeah , well, times change and so do people.
Amusement glimmers in Harley’s eyes. “Like I said, he likes to pretend he exists on his own. A lone wolf, if you will.”
I peer over at Matthias again, and he’s staring at his coffee cup, not making eye contact, not showing his cards. He doesn’t want me to know anything. He wants to keep me in the dark.
“Either way, it’s nice to finally meet you, Harley,” I say.
“Same here. I’ve been wondering what you look like. Had a picture in my mind.” His gaze swivels over me and he sighs. “You’re much hotter than I imagined. Are you sure Matthias is the Buckingham you want to commit to?”
“You can stop flirting with my husband,” Matthias says coldly. “Behave.”
“But he’s so pretty,” Harley rocks back in his chair, waggling his brows suggestively. “Maybe you’re too uptight for him. Maybe he wants to spend time with someone younger. Someone more…fun.”
Matthias gets to his feet, bracing himself on his knuckles as he leans toward his sibling. “Call him pretty again. I fucking dare you.”
The front legs of Harley’s chair hit the ground with a thud . “What’s a little harmless flirting between friends?”
“He’s my husband ,” Matthias growls. “Not your fucking friend. And if you want him to be, you’re going to start treating him with the respect he deserves.”
My eyes widen. Wow, I guess that answers if they’re to think this is real or not. Matthias really does want to sell this to his family.
Matthias continues to glare at Harley, the two of them having a silent pissing contest, until Harley sighs. He turns to me and mutters, “Sorry.”
Once again, I’m caught off guard. Why is he apologizing to me? Matthias is the one he annoyed.
But Matthias nods at his brother approvingly before taking his seat again. “Good.”
“Maybe less talking and more eating?” Jules says as he walks over.
Harley beams at Jules. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you know my heart is only reserved for you.”
“Oh, tsh,” Jules says with a blush. It’s clear he’s not taking Harley’s words seriously.
He sets a plate down in front of Harley and then me. Matthias is last.
For some reason, the fact that he wasn’t first makes me giddy.
I look down at the food and grab my fork, not saying anything else, just digging in. And hell, it’s good. Real fucking nice. Harley is doing the same thing, eating up the food as quickly as possible. Matthias, on the other hand, is cutting his food up nice and proper.
Fucking ridiculous. Who uses a knife these days anyway?
“God, this is good, Jules. Nice fucking eggs.” Harley says through a mouthful.
Jules shoots him a smirk. “Of course they are. It’s me. I’m world-renowned.”
Harley grins. “You fucking know it. Did you make your scones? Tell me you made your scones.”
Jules flushes. “I might have.”
“Fuck yes. Where are they? I want them in my mouth right this instant.”
Jules murmurs under his breath but looks pleased with how eager Harley is. The flush now extends down his neck and below his chef whites. His eyes flick between Harley and the stove every few seconds, like he can’t help himself.
He’s not the only one either. Harley is looking at Jules just as often. He catches the chef’s eye and winks. Jules turns away in a hurry, blushing furiously.
He doesn’t look back again. A small furrow appears between Harley’s brows.
Interesting.
I turn to Matthias, wondering if he’s noticed the obvious chemistry, but he isn’t looking at them. He’s watching me intently, those dark eyes glimmering.
I force my gaze away and look back at my plate, finishing it off with as much decorum as I can muster. I try not to scrape the plate, but I do it anyway. Then I bring my plate to the sink and begin to wash it, but Jules stops me.
“Absolutely not. We have someone for that.”
I glance at him and bite back a sigh, putting the plate in the sink. I don’t know who is going to wash these, but I don’t want to overstep.
As I move away, Matthias stops me. “Grab a scone, Wy, and then we can discuss destinations.”
“I’m full,” I say.
Matthias arches a brow, but before he can go all caveman again, Harley is there, pressing one into my hand. “You may be, but hell, this will rejuvenate you.”
I stare down at it and then close my fingers gently around it. Just like with Jules, I can’t find it in myself to be mean to Harley. He hasn’t done anything to deserve it.
Not like his brother. “All right. Thank you.”
“Come,” Matthias says softly and that word makes my skin break out in goosebumps. It’s anger, I tell myself. The numbness has receded and I can feel again. That’s all this is.
“You can fight me,” he says warningly when he steps up next to me. “But I will tie you down and make you listen if needed.”
I purse my lips, my jaw clicking as he places a hand on my lower back and leads me forward. I try and resist, my steps hesitant, my movements slow, but I end up in the library all the same. He pushes me gently toward a couch and then nearly folds me onto it. He takes a seat next to me, our knees knocking.
“Now, let’s discuss.”
“I’d rather not,” I say, taking a bite of the scone and watching crumbs scatter across my shirt.
Matthias reaches out, brushing them aside, making my heart flutter annoyingly.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I mutter, taking another bite.
“Fine. No more touching.” He huffs and then sits back, his hand retracting, lips pursed as he surveys me. “You’re far too thin.”
My eyes narrow and I feel my ego deflate a little. I know that. He doesn’t need to point it out. “Gee, thanks. Hadn’t noticed, personally.”
Matthias doesn’t bite. “You’ll fill out in a few weeks. Eat all the scone, that’ll help.”
I don’t respond, but find myself finishing it anyway. Not because of what Matthias said, but because it was too fucking good to waste.
Matthias is silent until I’m done, but the second I am, he’s setting a tablet on my lap. “Swipe right. There are at least ten destinations. You need to pick one.”
I stare down at it, the bright blues and greens waving at me through the screen. I hate that Matthias remembers this about me, that I always wanted to go somewhere tropical. I must have only mentioned it a couple of times, but fuck him for remembering.
I can’t stop my fingers from moving across the screen. I scroll, seeing a variety of destinations. Bali, Hawaii, the Maldives. But when I get to St. Barthelemy, I stop.
I remember reading about this place. The billionaire island—a place with luxurious resorts, designer shops, and amazing food.
A small chuckle to my left has me freezing.
“It’s okay to want this,” he says, and the way his words fall on me makes my jaw lock. It’s almost like a double entendre.
“I don’t want this.”
I swipe right, but I know it doesn’t matter. He saw it. I’m sure it was all over my face. It makes my heart sink, but then I straighten slightly. At least it’s expensive. It will put a dent in his wallet.
Good, that’s why I chose it, I tell myself. To make him hurt in some small way, even if it’s only financially.
It gives me some power. A teaspoon’s worth.
I hand the tablet back to him, and he turns it off. “I’ll set it up.”
“I don’t want to go on a fucking honeymoon,” I grind out, but my words are cut off when his hand grabs on to my chin roughly, his fingers digging into my flesh.
“This needs to appear real, Wy. So you’ll go on this fucking honeymoon and you’ll pretend.”
He doesn’t let go of me, forcing me to look up at him. Our eyes clash, wills and egos at war.
“Maybe we should practice right now,” he murmurs, his eyes sliding away from mine so easily and moving to my lips. “After all, if we’re husbands, people will expect us to kiss.”
Is he for fucking real right now? We kissed briefly at the wedding, wasn’t that enough?
I try to wrench my head away, but he just tightens his hold on me.
He wouldn’t. Would he?
My breathing picks up and I watch as his pupils dilate. Are mine doing the same thing? Giving him permission?
They better fucking not.
“I dare you, Wy. I dare you to show me how much you hate me.”
My tongue peeks out, wetting my lips, that competitive spirit coming out to play. Maybe I should. Maybe I should kiss him, bite him, mark him. Show him that I can pretend better than anyone.
But before I can, his hand falls from my face and he leans back. “Never mind. I’d rather not.”
Inhaling deeply, I clutch my fists on my thighs. Why is my heart still racing? It has to be the adrenaline. It has to be. I can’t stop the taunt I throw his way. “Scared? Doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been the one to run.”
His chuckle is dark, no humor in it. “Actually, I think you’ll find that’s you, Wy. I’m not scared, but I’m also not interested.”
My eyes narrow as he stands up, tucking the tablet under his arm. “You’re welcome to stay here or explore the grounds more. I, however, have work to do. And Wy, you have crumbs on your shirt.”
He turns to leave, and as he does I can’t help but make out the bulge in his trousers. That big dick pushing out from the fabric.
Liar.
He is interested. But he still left. He dared me and then gave up.
Alone in the room, I brace my elbows on my knees and take some deep breaths. It never used to be like this with Matthias. Once, I knew him as well as I knew myself.
Now, he’s practically a stranger. A stranger who seems determined to fuck with my life and my mind.
I’m not going to let him. There’s no way.
I’ll figure out a way to break him. Just like he broke me.
* * *
I find myself outside, my legs carrying me across his expansive property. It’s quite beautiful, freshly mowed grass, pebbled trails, and different seating areas hidden beneath mature trees. As I continue on, I find a hidden gem. Sitting on the edge of a small pond is a gazebo with vines crawling up the sides. Wisteria, it seems—expensive and frivolous.
I take a seat on one of the benches, looking out at the raindrops falling on the serene water, tilting my head up and inhaling deeply.
Petrichor, wet grass, and a floral scent.
I love it and I hate that I do. Anything that is his is automatically bad. He trapped me here. He forced me.
I’m not in this willingly.
And yet you are. You made your choice the minute you put that paper under that brick.
My eyes close and I listen to the rain, the sound of it hitting the water, the wind rustling the trees. Cedar and oak, hemlock and spruce. Were they here originally or did he pay to have them planted?
How much did he spend on this place?
I don’t know, but hell if it isn’t nice. That’s the only thing I’ll give him. It’s fucking nice.
“Fuck. Me,” I murmur when I realize that the anger is subsiding for a moment and I feel calm. The first time in ages.
I don’t want to feel it, want it to disappear, but it’s there.
That is until I hear footsteps in the distance and I turn to see a figure making its way toward me. A man, judging by the set of the shoulders and the gait. It’s slightly dark out, just the lights from the pathway lanterns illuminating the space as the thick rain clouds consume the property.
It better not be him , I think. It better not be fucking Matthias.
But as the man approaches, I notice the work boots and the worn rain jacket.
A sliver of disappointment pulses through me.
“Oh shit,” the man murmurs when I stand up and make myself known. “You scared me, lurking out here.”
“I wouldn’t say lurking, just sitting.” I watch as the man moves closer, his gloved hands settling on his hips as he steps into the gazebo. He’s built, tall and lumbering, kind of like the trees in the distance.
“You must be the husband,” the man says, his eyes assessing me from under his hood.
“Guess I am. And you are?” I ask, trying not to seem snotty, but knowing it comes across that way all the same. I can’t help it. I’m fucking pissed about this whole situation.
“Corbin. I manage the gardens out here. I was just coming out to see how the gazebo was fairing with all the rain. The wisteria was hard to grow.” I stare at him, and he shrugs. “I don’t want them to die. We’ve been waiting for these to grow for a long time.”
“They seem fine,” I say, and he nods.
“Seems they are.”
I cock my head as he walks over to the other side of the gazebo, glancing out over the pond.
“Did Matthias send you to find me?” I finally ask when staring at his back answers none of my questions.
“That’s not my job. I just work with the plants.”
I don’t believe him, but I let it go. If he is subtly messaging Matthias that I’m here, then so be it. He can do whatever he likes. And part of me is a little pissed it wasn’t Matthias out here looking for me.
Not that I want him to find me.
We’re no longer children playing hide and seek. I don’t want to be caught.
“Just so you know…the ground gets really slippery when it rains like this,” Corbin explains. “Better watch out with those shoes of yours when you make your way back. They look fancy. Don’t want you to slip and fall.”
The way Matthias would subtly mock me if I returned to the house covered in mud. I won’t let him have the satisfaction. I’ll walk like I’m made of glass.
“Thanks for the word of warning.”
“Thought you could use it.”
“Any other advice?”
“Nope. Unless you want plant advice.”
I shrug, wanting it, but refusing to ask for it.
“Hey, aren’t you two newlyweds? Shouldn’t you be back in the main house?” Corbin asks.
My words stick in my throat as I try and respond. Acting like a happy married couple was part of the contract, the agreement I signed into for the next year. I’m to be the doting husband. I’m supposed to pretend.
“I wanted to see the grounds and he was busy. We aren’t attached at the hip.”
“Mm,” Corbin replies. “Right. Well…better get going. Need to make sure bits of the property aren’t flooding.”
I stare at him as he turns and then I stop him.
“Wait!” His gaze turns back to me, that damn hood still on. I can barely make out his face. “I want to plant some things. Flowers. Herbs. Shit like that.”
He’s still, those eyes gleaming beneath the hood. “And you need me for that?”
“Yeah. I mean, can you order me some bulbs, things that will grow well here? I want to see some fucking flowers.”
“I can do that. No problem. I’ll have them in a few days. Anything in particular?”
“Whatever you think would grow well and maybe add in some young cannabis plants.”
He lets out a low laugh. “Is that so?”
“It’s so. Can you do it?”
“Sure can. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have what will grow here. Plus, gardening will give you something to do with your time. Being happily married and all.”
He gives me a subtle nod and then walks down the gazebo steps, leaving me to stand there and watch him go. This whole place is fucking dreary as hell. Maybe I can give it a little bit of light when I plant my flowers and get high out of my mind.
That thought soothes me as I take one last look at the lake and then make my way back to the house. And I walk very carefully to make sure I don’t slip and fall on my ass.
I refuse to be laughed at.
I refuse to be anything less than.