Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
VALERIE
FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER Fynn leaves, I give up on sleeping. Not because I’m not tired. I’m exhausted.
The issue is, I’m also currently being hunted by a mafia hitman.
Or two.
And—shockingly—that makes it kind of tricky to sleep, especially without my formidable husband at my side.
I know Fynn isn’t as ruthless as the men in my past—that’s part of why I like him—but he is something most of them are not.
Smart.
Having him on my side makes me feel like maybe everything will be okay. Like maybe this will all work out and I won’t end up back in Minnesota.
Or worse.
But it would seem those feelings dim when he’s not at my side, leaving my little brain with nothing to focus on besides all the bad things that could be happening right now.
Because of me.
I scoot to the edge of the giant bed, letting my legs dangle over the side as I dial Fynn’s number and wait for it to start ringing. I appreciate that he brought me here to keep me safe, but what’s keeping him safe?
If he hadn’t dicked the brains right out of me earlier, I probably would have put up a fight about him leaving, but who says I can’t do that now? Isn’t it my duty as his wife to make sure he’s okay? If I have to throw a little bit of a fit to make that happen, then so be it. I don’t like the thought of him being hurt. Especially not when it would be because of me.
My lips press into a frown when his phone goes straight to voicemail. Even the sound of his smooth voice, eloquently telling me to leave him a message, doesn’t make me feel any better.
If anything, it makes it worse.
Fynn is so freaking great. Smart. Successful. He has a wonderful mother who he loves like crazy and a beautiful home. The only reason I managed to talk him into marrying me was because of a stroke of bad luck bestowed upon him by a woman.
And now I’m doing the same damn thing. I’m no better than Jessica, and the revelation has me dialing his number again.
I know I’ve offered him an out. More than once. But he’s a genuinely good person. Way too good to walk away knowing I might end up dead because of it .
When his number goes to voicemail again, I groan and drop my cell to the bed as I flop back to stare at the ceiling.
Maybe I should go after him.
I know where his office is. It’s barely two blocks away. I could just sneak past, take a little peek to make sure he’s okay, then come back here before he finds out I’m gone.
The idea is barely formed but I’m already off the bed and moving, unzipping my suitcase to dig through the contents. Fynn took my dress as he left, likely to drop it off at the cleaners since he’s a stickler for dry cleaning, so I have to pick something else to wear. I start to grab a pair of shorts but pause.
If I get caught I should look cute. Maybe it will be more difficult to be mad at me if I look cute.
I settle on another summery dress, this one a deep green printed with a delicate floral pattern. After zipping into it, I pull my hair into a high ponytail since our little mattress Olympics earlier ruined the bulk of the curls I baked into it before leaving Fynn’s place. I slip on a pair of nude sandal-style pumps then duck out of the room, quietly creeping down the hall.
The main living area is quiet and empty so I hurry to the foyer, keeping my steps light on the marble tile. I don’t let out a breath until the elevator doors open on the main level. The doorman who monitors the lobby gives me a smile and a wave. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hadaway.”
I stop in my tracks. He’s the first person who’s called me that and I like it. I really, really like it. I like being connected to Fynn. I like people thinking he’s mine.
The thought sends my belly flipping sideways. What would it be like if he really was mine? If this whole marriage wasn’t just a solution to our very different problems?
Is that even possible?
Not if something’s happening to him, it’s not. That lights a fire under my ass and has me waving at the man who will hopefully let me back in the elevator when I return. "I'll be right back. I'm just running a quick errand."
Hopefully he won't ever mention to Fynn that I was here. I don't want my new husband thinking I'm too stupid to live. I'm not.
I just might be a little more concerned about his safety than my own.
I hurry down the sidewalk, making sure to look all around me for any sign one of the people milling about has nefarious motives, but there is no one even glancing my way. The day is completely normal and the people on the street are unremarkable.
Thank goodness.
In under ten minutes, I'm rushing into Fynn’s building and hurrying onto the elevator. It’s packed, so I scoot into the front corner, keeping my face forward so hopefully no one recollects my appearance here. As soon as we reach his floor I hurry out, striding down the hallway to make what I hope appears to be a casual walk past Fynn’s office. The main door leading into the space is fully glass, so I can easily see inside. All I need is a little glimpse of his very attractive, hopefully equally alive, self. Then I will go right back to his mother’s place and pretend this never happened.
I hurry past, sliding my eyes toward the glass, but I’m moving too quickly and the men inside end up being kind of a blur. One of them looked to be about the right height and build to be Fynn, but I'm not positive.
And I need to be positive.
Just as I'm slowing to pivot, I catch sight of another woman behind me, only she doesn't pass Fynn’s office. She stops directly in front of it, flings the door open and yells at the top of her lungs.
"You fucking prick!"
She's already most of the way through the door, so I barely catch a glimpse of her, but there isn't a doubt in my mind who the woman is. And it pushes me right over the edge of reasonable and into too stupid to live territory.
Except at the moment I'm not only stupid. I'm also pissed. How dare she. Who the fuck does Jessica think she is talking to my husband that way?
I storm back down the hall, following her straight into Fynn’s office, crossing the threshold as she rushes his way. I'm right behind Jessica, ready to lay into her and give the woman who dragged him into the gutter a piece of my mind, but then I see her hand swing back, palm aimed at the side of my handsome husband's perfect face.
I see red. I don't think. I don't plan. I just react.
And my reaction is to reach up and grab her by the hair on the back of her head, using the hold to yank her backward.
Hard.
Jessica screams, and the sound is music to my ears. As she stumbles, attempting to regain her balance, I detangle my fingers from her hair and step between her and Fynn, lifting my chin as I stare her down. "Don't put your fucking hands on my husband." The venom in my tone is as startling as my reaction to seeing Jessica about to slap the man I’m starting to think of as mine. For the first time in my life I feel like a bad bitch. Like a woman who really can take control of her life and her destiny. Like I have finally found the balls and the spine I so desperately want. Like I—
A squeak of surprise comes out of my bad bitch lips as one of Fynn's long arms sweeps around me, spinning me around until I'm face to back with his body. One wide palm pins me in place, holding tight even as I push against him, trying to get free.
"So it's true?" Jessica sounds outraged, and that only makes me fight harder to get out of Fynn’s grip. There's no telling what she's going to try to do to him, and I know Fynn would never lay a hand on a woman.
But I'll lay a bitch out before I let her hurt a single hair on his head.
"A little help?" Fynn takes a step back, hauling me with him as Jessica lunges.
Since I can't get free, I swing one arm around his side, managing to clip her right in the tit, sending her jerking back .
" Val ." Fynn's tone is sharp with warning, but I don't care. All I care about is getting my hands on the woman who tried to ruin him. I know I should probably be thanking her for bringing him to my doorstep, but fuck that. I'm not thanking her for shit.
“ This is your wife?” Jessica says it like I’m not worth wiping her shoes on and that only makes me madder. “Is she fucking feral?”
I give up on fighting Fynn. He’s too strong. I can’t get loose. So I glare at Jessica from where I’m plastered behind him, hoping I can piss her off enough to make her come to me. “Come over here and find out.”
I’ve never been a fighter. Thought I was missing that part of the DNA that’s baked so deep into my father’s being.
It would seem I was just lacking proper motivation.
Another man, one who looks way less capable of wrangling an angry woman than Fynn, steps in front of Jessica. He looks ready to puke on his shoes as he stretches both arms out in an attempt to block her in, face sickly pale as he side steps to keep her at his back.
“ Brian .” Her tone is low and threatening. “If you don’t move in the next two seconds, I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of your life never getting a reservation at The Providence again.”
Brian—I’m really pissed she knows his name and I don’t—gapes at her over one shoulder. “You monster.”
Is he kidding? Please, for the love of God, let him be kidding.
“I’m not sure what you came here for, Jessica, but I can promise you, you’re not going to find it.” Fynn’s hold on me shifts and I’m being spun back the way I came, feet moving until I’m tucked tight into his side. It looks like he’s simply holding me close, but that’s not the case.
He’s restraining me.
“As it appears you heard, I did get married.” His hand splays across my hip, fingertips reaching to the soft bit of belly just under my navel. “Which should be of no concern to you, all things considered.”
Jessica’s eyes open so wide I think they might pop out of her head and the thought of them rolling across the carpet makes me smirk. Apparently, in addition to a violent streak, I also got the same ruthless gene my father possesses, because I wouldn’t mind being the cause of those eyeballs hitting the floor.
“No concern to me?” Her voice pitches up as we get one step closer to the five second rule being in play. “How is it of no concern to me that you wouldn’t even entertain the idea of marriage with me after over a year together and you marry this… this…” She swings one hand my way. “Hussy.”
I’m a little surprised hussy’s the best she could come up with. I’m also surprised to hear she and Fynn discussed marriage. Who’s keeping secrets now?
Jessica is still blabbing, practically foaming at the mouth as she continues gesturing in my direction. “She’s not even from here.”
Brian's head bobs back as he continues to stare at Jessica. "Did you really just quote Mean Girls ?"
I snort. "That does seem appropriate. "
Jessica’s narrowed gaze swings my way. "You don't know anything about what's appropriate." She stabs one finger in Fynn’s direction. "You have no idea what this man did to me."
I meet her gaze, refusing to look away. "I know what you claimed he did to you, which makes me extra confused that you're angry over him being married to me and not you." The words are barely out of my mouth when the truth hits me. I start to laugh, because of the ridiculousness of it. "Oh my God." I look at Fynn, shocked at the length this bitch has gone to. "She knows you didn’t really cheat on her." I face Jessica, realizing she’s so much worse than I ever couldn’t have imagined. "You spread those rumors because you were pissed he didn't want to marry you."
I half expect Jessica to deny my accusation. I sure would if I was in her position, but she doesn't. She just stands taller, lifting her chin in defiance. "He should have just fucking married me. We’re a perfect match." Her nostrils flare and her perfectly glossed lip curls. "We know the same people. Do the same things. Want the same futures." She snorts, looking down her regal nose at me. "You probably want a happy little family with two point five children and summer vacations spent in Disney World." She leans forward, expression smug. "I've got news for you, sweetie. He doesn't want kids."
It makes me unreasonably angry that she's pretending she knows Fynn better than I do, mostly because she probably does. And that really chaps my ass.
But I intend to make full use of my newly constructed backbone, so I just smile at her, doing my best to seem like I don't give a shit. "Didn’t he also tell you he didn’t want to get married?" I’m proud as hell of the retort. It's the kind of thing I would normally only come up with days later in the comfort of my own shower, but it just jumped right out of my mouth and sounded fuh-reaking amazing.
It also seems to be the comment that pushes Jessica over the edge, because, in the blink of an eye, she knocks Brian out of the way, looking a little feral herself as she comes at me, claws and teeth bared. Again, I don't think, I just react. I swing, managing to get a little momentum going even as Fynn's arm comes between us. It's a valiant effort on his part. Unfortunately, it won’t do much to stop the wild woman who now believes I've ruined her life.
But my fist hitting her nose does. The sound it makes when it connects is not pleasant and will probably gross me out for weeks to come when I think back on this moment.
And I will think back on it.
Jessica’s hands fly up to cup her face as blood shoots from her nostrils. "My nose." Her eyes are watering as she stumbles back. "Do you have any idea how much this cost?"
I lift my brows, because apparently the brilliance is not done coming out of my mouth. "You had to buy your own nose?"
Jessica makes a screeching noise, sounding a lot like a bird of prey, but she doesn't come at me again. Instead she continues wobbling her way to the door, shouting from behind the cup of her hands as she topples into the hall. "You're going to hear from my lawyer. I'm going to sue the fuck out of you."
The room is quiet for a few seconds after she disappears. Finally Fynn slowly turns my way, his gaze a palpable weight as it bores into the side of my head. "I believe you were supposed to stay at my mother's apartment, wife."
I take a deep breath, losing a little of the steam I had earlier. The fire creating it was fueled by my anger at Jessica. Anger for what she’d done to Fynn. Anger that she dared try to touch him.
But I don't feel any anger toward Fynn and that leaves me less ready to do battle.
I'm gonna try anyway.
Shoving my shoulders back, I stand as tall as my five-foot-three frame will allow and face him, head tipped back so my eyes meet his. "I would have if you'd answered your phone." I prop both hands on my hips, hoping it makes me seem a little more stern. "I was worried about you. I thought someone had—"
My words cut off as Fynn grabs one of my bent arms, using the hold to drag me into his office. He pauses to turn back to Brian. "Call the police. I want to file a report about this." Then he shoves me into the room, following me in and closing the door. "You were supposed to stay where you were safe. I can't protect you if you won't let me." His tone is as dark and dangerous as his gaze as it flies over me, scanning my body from head to toe.
I swallow hard. "Are you mad at me?"
He moves closer, backing me up until I bump into the edge of his desk. "Yes, wife. I am mad at you."
I grip the edge of the desk as he continues to come closer, looming over me. His large hands span my waist, using the hold to lift me up and drop me down onto his desk. His hips press between my knees, spreading my legs apart as one hand comes to bracket along my jaw, palm against my throat. "I'm also turned on as fuck after watching you defend me like that, so I can't decide whether I should put you over my knee or fuck the hell out of you."
My heart is racing, and only partly out of fear. "That does sound like a dilemma." I fight for air. "My vote is that you fuck the hell out of me. I don't think I'm so big on spanking."
His eyes move over my face, slow and assessing. "No. You wouldn't be, would you?" He leans into my ear, nipping the lobe just hard enough to make me jump. "Because you’d rather hear what a good girl you are."