Chapter 5 #2
“It’s shared,” he cuts in, and I nod warily, chewing on my lip because I do that when I’m nervous, but I immediately stop because…
well, yeah. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.
Maybe because I expect him to change his mind at any second and turn around and go home.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen him in six years, and the last time I did, it was awful, and since then I’ve grown hateful and resentful toward him.
Or maybe it’s because I’m fucking marrying him, and that feels nothing short of wrong despite my knowing I’m doing it for all the right reasons.
If this had been Asher or Callan, we’d be laughing, drinking champagne, and teasing each other about the wedding night that was never going to happen. But I don’t have a history with Asher the way I do with Lenox, and everything about this is a minefield waiting to explode.
“It’s a suite though, so there’s a couch, I believe.”
“A couch in a Vegas suite. I’m sure it’s the hallmark of cleanliness and sanitation. ”
I choke on the sip of my drink, half of it spraying out of my mouth in a brown shower that covers the back of the seat in front of me while the other half goes down the wrong pipe, causing me to hack up a lung as the bubbles from the soda shoot up my nose and tickle the back of my throat, making my eyes immediately water.
He reaches over and smacks my back without removing his eyes from his screen.
When I can finally manage to drag air back into my lungs, I go for my purse, pulling out some tissues to wipe my face and the back of the seat.
And when that’s done, I gawk at him and wheeze out, “You made a joke.”
His lips twitch. “If that’s how you respond to them, I’ll be sure not to make another. I’d hate to end up like that seat.”
I laugh and smack his shoulder. “That’s another one. Quit it.”
He’s done talking to me as he continues to type gibberish into his weird-ass laptop.
I shake my head at this conundrum of a man. Talk about an onion, but the last time I tried to peel back his layers he left me in tears, so no thanks on that.
I let it all end there, slipping in my AirPods, turning them to noise-canceling, and watching the least romantic movie I can find on the airline’s streaming.
I end up falling asleep only to be jostled awake when the plane hits the tarmac with a bumpy landing, the Las Vegas Strip just beyond my window.
We’ve arrived, and by tonight, I’ll be married to Lenox Moore.
And just like that, those nerves are back and firing through me like bullets.
The plane pulls into the gate, and the door opens and then Lenox stands and pulls down our suitcases.
I stand and follow after him while wishing my mom were here.
I should have brought her along for emotional support.
She would have gone dress shopping with me.
She would have held my hand through all of this.
Even if she would have told me to marry Ezra instead of Lenox.
Tonight is the first event for the conference—a cocktail hour—and Ezra will be there.
He already messaged me asking what plane I’m on and what time I’m checking in and if we can meet for a drink before the cocktail hour to talk.
I haven’t responded to him because any time I have, he’s more all over me than he was before.
If I give him an inch—even a benign inch—he wants a mile and seriously dislikes the word no.
It’s been unsettling with him to say the least.
I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve ended it with them, sometimes when they didn’t want that, but it’s never been the way it is with Ezra.
Pounding drunk on my door at midnight. Telling me he’ll never let me go.
Demanding that I marry him. It’s weird, and something about it isn’t right.
His desperation doesn’t make a ton of sense to me other than he wants my money and Monroe.
We make our way through the airport and down to baggage, where I find our driver holding a sign with my name on it.
Lenox and I haven’t said another word to each other since the choking incident, and it’s just as well.
I haven’t wanted to be overtly cruel or bitchy to him because, well, it’s honestly not who I am, but he’s doing me the favor of the century, and being that way won’t help my cause.
The Las Vegas air is mild, cool, but not too cold, aided by the blinding sunshine and desert air. I slip into the backseat of the car with Lenox beside me. The driver finishes loading our bags and we’re off, headed toward the hotel. My knee is bouncing, and my hands are knotting.
He turns to look at me finally. “Relax, Georgia. I’m not going to back out.”
Wow, when he said he could read me, he wasn’t kidding.
Relief shoots like a geyser through me, but I still don’t understand why he said yes.
“May I ask why you’re doing this when there is nothing in it for you?
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, because I’m extremely grateful, but as you said, I have nothing you want. ”
His eyes dance about my face in the dim light of the car in such a way that it makes my face flush ever so slightly, if for no other reason than he’s much better at this than I am.
His gaze isn’t heated or even kind. It’s cold and detached.
Hell, he stared at his computer screen with more warmth and interest than at me .
And I decide I don’t care anymore why he’s doing this.
Does it matter? I need him to help me wade through the maelstrom of the situation I’ve found myself in, but that’s where this thing between us ends.
He signed the prenup and says he isn’t going to back out.
We created rules and laws—both of us. He’s silently telling me it’s business and his reasons are his own.
Though in all likelihood, he’s doing this for Zax and Grey and the guilt trip I threw at him where they’re concerned.
I don’t need or want more from him than this. I don’t want his time, attention, or interest.
I go to turn away from him when he catches my jaw and turns my face back to his. His blue eyes darken, his pupils expand, and with that, a chill sweeps over my body. “You are to tell me about any and all texts, calls, or conversations you have with Ezra.”
My tongue thickens in my mouth at the way he says that—so unrelenting, so unnegotiable—but I somehow manage to maintain my easy disposition even as my nerves are scraped raw. Sarcastically, I bite out, “Sure thing, hero.”
I turn away, jerking my jaw free of his touch and breaking eye contact first when my phone pings in my purse between us.
Inadvertently, I scowl, somehow already knowing it’s Ezra.
For a moment, I don’t move, even when I can feel Lenox’s expectant gaze on me.
I’m salty after his demand and debating if I want to give him access to my private messages when a second ping comes through. I sigh and pull out my phone.
Ezra: I had our suites moved next to each other with a connecting door between them.
Ezra: After you get settled, come to my room, and we’ll have a drink and talk. Can’t wait to see you. XO.
I go to toss my phone back into my purse when Lenox catches my wrist, stopping me. He twists my arm, moving my phone so he can see the screen, and taps the glass twice, his hard eyes on me before taking the phone from my hand.
“Hey!” I bark, trying to snatch it from him, only to have him plant his hand on my shoulder and hold me back. “What are you doing? ”
“Sending Ezra a coded link to a bullshit website that will give me backdoor access to everything on his phone. And telling him to fuck off.”
“What? Why are you doing that?”
He glares furiously at me after he hits send, his jaw tense and tight as he grits out, “Because I want to see his emails, texts, apps, spending habits, and search history. I want access to his banking and credit cards. And I want him to know that you’re with me now.”
“That was not for you to do,” I say with an indignant, sharp lift of my chin.
He tilts his head as if to say too late and then hands me my phone back. I take a look at the screen, at what he wrote.
Me: Did you send me this?
There’s a link following it and another message from me.
Me: I won’t be coming to your room for a drink or a talk or anything else. I told you it’s over. Please respect that. I’m married to Lenox Moore now
.
Oh shit.
“I was going to tell him in person,” I snap, resentful of his high-handed approach. “You had no right. I was with him for two years, and though I may not love him or want much to do with him, that’s not the way this needs to go. I still have to deal with him.”
He gets right up in my face, his impassioned blue eyes scorching a path straight into mine.
“I am here about to marry you because you told me he’s not taking no for an answer.
You told me he’s been stalking you, which judging by him moving your suite without your consent, he is.
He needs to know you’re going to be my wife, and you’ll never be his.
You asked me why I’m here. That’s why I’m here, Georgia.
To get these guys to finally leave you alone so you can have the life you fucking deserve. Isn’t that what you begged me to do?”
Fire blazes between us, a thick red haze I can almost taste.
I’m at war with myself. On the one hand, he’s right.
It is what I asked him to do. It is why he’s here about to marry me.
I certainly wasn’t looking forward to that particular conversation with Ezra, and in truth, I was afraid of how he’d react.
But still, I don’t like Lenox fighting my battles for me or handling something that should fall squarely on my own shoulders.
I was going to tell Ezra tonight, once Lenox and I are officially married, and by doing so, I’d eliminate Ezra’s options.
I’d be removing him from my life simply because I am married to another man.
He can’t beg me to come back or try to return my ring to me or even show up at my house or place of business.
I’m not a woman who does things halfway. I’m simply a woman stuck in the worst possible position who needs a bit more leverage than I had to ensure my freedom from my ex and ensure that the future of Monroe Securities stays in safe hands.
I try to push my fear and ire back down, but the bitches won’t relent.
“Marrying me doesn’t mean I want you to speak for me.
It doesn’t mean I’m some damsel in distress who doesn’t know how to handle her business.
I’m learning. I’m adapting. I’m a fucking midwife thrust into the tech world.
I went from vaginas to computers. I went from having two parents who love me to one.
I went from having a guy who I thought I’d spend my life with to needing to marry someone else, so I don’t have to spend my life with him.
I’m questioning everything and everyone right now.
So excuse me if I need a bit of a learning curve.
That doesn’t make me weak. That doesn’t mean I’m not strong.
And that doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to tell him I’m married when I’m actually married. ”
His hand dives into my hair, and before I know how it happens, his forehead is practically pressed against mine, his wild eyes ensnaring me.
“You believe I think you’re weak?” he snarls.
“Georgia, you’re a ruby in a world of simple diamonds.
They’re clear, colorless, and boring. That’s never been you.
You are durable, surprising, and fucking radiant.
You are impossible to let go of. Which is why he won’t do it unless forced to, and I know you.
You’re sweet and kind and don’t relish being intentionally cruel or hurtful.
It’s not a flaw, but there is no room for that kind of devotion to gentility, as he will not return the favor.
You need to remember that you are not the sort of woman to be held down by the weight of men and their schemes.
Do you hear me? Because he will not take this easily or lying down and you have to be ruthless with this. ”
I swallow, my throat working, but I manage a nod.
His eyes vacillate back and forth between mine before they bounce down to my lips and hold.
All at once I’m hyperaware of our proximity, along with his heat, the firm press of his hand in my hair, and the scent of his skin since Lenox is never one to wear cologne.
Suddenly the notion of his weight over mine doesn’t feel so caging or awful.
It feels almost freeing. Like his is the weight I’ve been missing all these years, all the while trying on others that never quite fit right.
Only I know that’s not the case.
Nothing about Lenox ever fit right on me.
I just tried to make it so, and in doing that lost sight of the woman I am at my core.
Or more importantly, the woman I wanted to be.
I sacrificed everything for him. My head and my heart were a price I was willing to pay for whatever I could get from him.
I told him I was fine with what we had, all the while silently believing he’d come around.
The sad truth is, I was willing to do anything to keep him.
It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. He told me from the start and never swayed. Just sex. Just our bodies. Nothing more.
Mistakes are meant to be learned from and not repeated.
So while his words about my strength and how I’m a ruby in a sea full of ordinary diamonds might hit the vulnerable part of me that recently lost her father and lived with a man who treated her like a trophy or an expensive watch—something to be kept in a case, looked at and admired, but never allowed out—longer than she should have, I know better than to allow them to linger in my mind.
He used to say things like that to me. During quiet moments when our lust had been sated, and our breathing was once again calm, and our bodies were sleepy.
His hands would roam my skin, his eyes all over the motion, and he’d tell me things like that.
Things that made my heart swell and swell, practically to the point of bursting.
Until finally he jammed a knife in me, and not only did I burst, I bled out .
Thankfully the car pulls to a slow stop in front of the hotel, and my phone pings simultaneously.
Ezra: No, I don’t even know what that is. I never sent you that. And what the fuck do you mean you’re married?!
Lenox reads the text and smirks, his eyes darker than they’ve been all day. “Looks like he got the message, and I’m in.”