Chapter 16
Colson stood behind me as I knelt, carefully arranging my shoes on the lower shelf of our walk-in closet.
The Thanksgiving dinner had gone off without a hitch, despite Logan’s harsh words still echoing in my mind.
I was lost in thought when I felt Colson’s presence near me, his shadow stretching long across the floor.
He stepped closer, stopping right in front of me.
“You’re in the perfect position,” he murmured, his voice deep and commanding.
I looked up, and his hand was already cupping my chin, tilting my face toward his. His expression was unreadable, but there was a familiar intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Are you asking or telling?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, even though my heart pounded in my chest.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Whichever gets me what I desire.”
I held his gaze, searching for a sign of what was really on his mind. “You know I won’t deny you either way.”
His thumb brushed over my lips, lingering there before slipping into my mouth. I sucked on it instinctively, hollowing my cheeks, and watched as his eyes darkened with a raw hunger that made my pulse race.
“I want it my way, Josephine,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I want tears leaking down your cheeks by the time I finish.”
My heart skipped a beat. I knew that tone. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying. Colson had a way of channeling his emotions into sex—sometimes it was passion, sometimes tenderness, but tonight... tonight there was anger.
“Colson,” I began cautiously, “do you need to ask me something?”
His expression hardened, and the gentleness in his touch disappeared. “Open my zipper, Josephine.”
I hesitated, feeling the tension coiling in my stomach. “Not like this,” I said, trying to rise to my feet, to meet him on equal footing.
But his hand was on my shoulder in an instant, pressing me back down with a firm, unyielding grip. “Just like this,” he growled, the command in his voice brooking no argument.
I could feel the heat of his frustration, his need to assert control, and I knew there would be no reasoning with him tonight. As much as I wanted to resist, to challenge him, I also knew that this was how he purged his demons. And maybe, in some twisted way, it was how I purged mine too.
With a resigned sigh, I reached up and unzipped his trousers, my fingers trembling slightly as I did. He watched me, his eyes locked on mine, daring me to defy him. I swallowed hard, pushing down the flutter of nerves in my stomach, and lowered his pants.
Colson’s hand slid from my shoulder to the back of my head, tangling in my hair as he guided me toward him. “Good girl,” he whispered, the words laced with a dark satisfaction. “Take it out.”
I closed my eyes, knowing what was expected of me, and surrendered to the moment, letting him take what he needed.
As I did, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing a little more of myself every time I gave in like this, but it was a price I was willing to pay to keep the peace—to keep Colson content.
I took him in my mouth, and he was rough. It had been a few weeks since I did this, since he was like this. I kept my composure as tears leaked down my face. As he hit the back of my throat. As he closed his eyes, lost to the sensation of what he was doing.
His hand tightened in my hair, and I let out a small whimper, the sound barely escaping as I did exactly what he wanted, feeling the weight of his control pressing down on me. This was his way of reminding me who held the power, and tonight, there was no question about it.
When it was over, Colson’s grip on my hair loosened, and he stepped back, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied sigh. I stayed on my knees for a moment, catching my breath, my cheeks wet with the tears he had wanted to see.
“Next time, don’t make me ask twice,” he said, his voice now calm, almost gentle, as if the storm had passed. He cupped my chin again, lifting my face to meet his gaze. “Understood?”
I nodded silently, my heart still racing. He offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet with surprising tenderness, his thumb brushing away the remnants of my tears.
“That’s my bride,” he said softly, his tone now almost affectionate, as if rewarding me for my submission. “Come to bed. I’m not done playing.”
I rose from the floor, my legs shaky as I wiped away a stray tear with the back of my hand. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice steady.
Colson’s expression remained blank, his voice devoid of any warmth. “Nothing is wrong.”
But I knew better. I could feel the cold distance that had settled between us, like a thick fog that refused to lift. Something had shifted, and I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t ignore the gnawing dread in my stomach.
“Then I prefer to come to bed later,” I said, trying to sound casual as I wiped my hands on my robe. “I’d like to read in the library.”
The truth was, I needed space. The old Colson, the one who could turn icy and distant at the drop of a hat, was back, and I wasn’t sure what had triggered his sudden change. Had I done something to embarrass him during the evening? Or was it something else entirely?
He waved his hand dismissively, barely looking at me. “Suit yourself. I have some work to do.”
I stood there for a moment, waiting for him to say something more, but he didn’t.
His focus had already shifted, his mind elsewhere.
With a heavy heart, I turned away and headed to our room.
I changed out of my clothes, pulled on a robe, and quietly slipped downstairs, needing the comfort of the library and the familiar pages of The Count of Monte Cristo to distract me.
As I descended the stairs, the soft glow of the kitchen light caught my attention. I found Easton there, indulging in a large piece of Dutch apple pie. He looked up, his face lighting up with a warm smile when he saw me.
“Hungry?” he asked, gesturing with his fork.
I shook my head, taking a seat across from him at the kitchen table. “Not really. I came down to read.”
He frowned slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Did you have an argument with my father?”
“No,” I replied, though the truth was far more complicated. “He’s just not in a very good mood, and I thought it better to take a breather.”
Easton nodded, understanding without pressing further. “Want to play backgammon?”
I couldn’t help but smirk, the tension in my chest easing a bit. “You mean you want to get your ass kicked again?”
He laughed, a rich, genuine sound that echoed in the quiet kitchen. “Oh, my ego,” he said, clasping his chest dramatically.
Easton was the least egotistical of the siblings.
He took after his mother, all warmth and light, while Simone and Vaughn were more like Colson—calculated, driven, and often distant.
I glanced out the window, noticing a shadow moving along the path.
My heart skipped a beat when I realized it was Logan, hurrying toward the driveway with a sense of urgency. What was he doing out there?
Before I could dwell on it, Easton’s voice pulled me back to the moment. “So, a game?” he asked, a playful challenge in his tone.
I tore my gaze away from the window and smiled at him. “Sure. Let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”
“I’ll get the case,” he said, jumping up from the table with a grin. He shoveled the last forkful of pie into his mouth and bolted up the stairs two at a time, his energy infectious.
While he was gone, I stood up and rinsed his plate, my mind wandering back to Logan’s hurried steps.
By the time Easton returned, holding the worn leather backgammon case like a prized possession, I had already placed the plate back in the cabinet, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that something was amiss.
But for now, I pushed it aside, focusing on the game and the easy company of Easton, grateful for the distraction.
After five rousing games of which I won three, I slipped into bed at 2 a.m., exhausted from the day. Colson had closed the office for black Friday, and we had a four-day weekend. I stayed to my side of the bed, putting a large chasm between us until Colson reached for me.
“Meet me halfway,” he said.
I sighed but moved to the middle of the massive bed. He cuddled me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Nothing. I have a bunch of situations I’m dealing with. It has nothing to do with you.”
I turned in his arms, facing him. “Colson, when you treat me like a whore, it has to do with me. I thought we were past this.”
“What’s going on with you and my son?”
I frowned. “We were playing backgammon downstairs. There’s nothing further going on. Easton is my…”
He cut me off. “Not Easton – Vaughn.”
Had he seen Vaughn following me to the kitchen and assumed something happened between us?
“Nothing,” I said softly.
“My son has too much of an interest in you. Do you realize?”
I was more than aware. If Colson only knew how aware I was of his son’s obsession with me.
“I am but he won’t act on it. He has Serena.”
He laughed sarcastically. “Sometimes men can’t control their obsessions. They let them get the better of them.”
“He might be obsessed with me but he also respects you. He wouldn’t cross that line.”
Colson ran his knuckles across my cheek. “And suppose I wasn’t here? Could you protect yourself?”
I gasped. “Don’t say that. You’re not going anywhere. You’ll probably live until you’re a hundred.”
He was silent until he pressed a kiss to my lips. It was passionate and insistent. His tongue glazed over mine and I dug my fingers in his hair. He was jealous of his son which would account for his possessive behavior. Colson pulled away and, in the moonlight, I caught his gaze.
“I want to give you a baby.”
I sucked in a breath. “We agreed no children.”
“I’m allowed to change my mind, and I have. I’ve taken your feelings into account. You deserve to be a mother.”
“I’m due for my shot in two weeks.”
Colson latched onto my throat, working his way up to my ear. “Don’t get it.”
I was giddy. What I’d wanted since I married him would happen, at least in theory. I had no idea how long it would take but we would enjoy trying. His facade was shattering, and he was opening up to me even though there were shades of his former self.
Maybe one of these days I would find the courage to ask him about my grandfather and what transpired. And if he didn’t, I would find out myself.
As we drove into Manhattan that Monday morning, Colson folded his newspaper with a deliberate motion, placing it on the seat beside him. His usual composed demeanor seemed slightly off, and I couldn’t help but notice the tension radiating from him.
“You’ll have a new position starting today,” he announced, his voice calm but carrying an undertone I couldn’t quite place.
I frowned, caught off guard. “I was working on an investment package for a client.”
“You can hand that off to one of the other associates,” he replied, dismissing my concern with a wave of his hand.
I straightened my back, sitting up higher in my seat, trying to read the situation. “What will I be doing, then?”
He cleared his throat, a small but telling gesture that made my heart skip a beat. “As an Ashworth, you need to learn everything—what we offer, who our biggest clients are, every financial package we have.”
“Colson, I already know a good amount of information. Why the sudden change?”
He dabbed at his upper lip with a handkerchief, a sign of unease that only deepened my worry. To say I was concerned was an understatement—I was on high alert. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t telling me.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I demanded gently, but firmly. “And don’t lie to me.”
“There is nothing going on,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of its usual confidence. “I just have a bit of a stomach bug.”
Without hesitation, I hit the intercom, calling Gage, our driver. “Gage, we’re turning around. Take us home.”
Colson’s reaction was immediate and sharp. “Absolutely not,” he snapped. “You don’t make demands for me.”
Ignoring the sharpness in his tone, I moved closer, sliding across the seat to sit next to him.
I reached out, stroking his hair in a soothing gesture.
“I’m your wife, and as much as you think you hold control over me, there are times when you need to submit.
Let me care for you. Vaughn can handle whatever you have going on today. ”
He softened, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked, my voice gentle. “Making sure you don’t wear yourself out?”
He chuckled, a sound that held more exhaustion than amusement. “That’s been a long time coming. I think we need a vacation. We haven’t had one since our honeymoon. Maybe we can go somewhere warm.”
The idea of a vacation, of escaping the pressures of our lives, was enticing. This was the first year of my life where I had the means to go anywhere I wanted, to enjoy a vacation without counting every penny. “Aruba?” I suggested, a hopeful lilt in my voice.
“I was thinking Palm Springs. I own a house there.”
I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. “Where else do you own homes?” I asked.
Since we married, Colson had only told me what he thought I should know. I had no idea of all his personal investments or properties but what I could find in the Ashworth Corporation financial files.
“We’ll have to sit down and go over everything,” he said, his tone taking on a more serious note. “In case something happens to me. It’s not a big worry since my attorney has all the information.”
His words made my head shoot up. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned dying. Colson, is something wrong?”
“Nothing, my bride,” he assured me, his voice softening. “I’m just worn down, but it only takes one illness, one accident. You’re protected, even if you don’t get my entire empire.”
His words hung in the air, leaving me with a sinking feeling.
We fell into silence for the rest of the trip home, but the unease in my chest grew stronger.
I knew, deep down, that this was just another secret he was keeping from me.
And I hated how powerless I felt, knowing I couldn’t force the truth out of him. Not yet.