43. Rosenna
Chapter forty-three
Rosenna
W hen I arrived at Vincent Garcia’s building, the receptionist directed me to the elevator. I took it to Vincent’s floor, leaning against the wall with my hand against my forehead.
I needed to see Beckham. I needed him to hold me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay, for him to tell me Gavin wasn’t going to get away with this, that this blackmail wouldn’t jeopardize my future, that I would still have control over my life even if the people around me were hellbent on controlling it themselves.
It probably wasn’t wise to seek comfort in the arms of a man who’s been controlling my emotions, thoughts, and behaviors ever since I’d met him, but I liked Beckham’s control. I grew to love his possessiveness, even if I had tried to convince both him and myself that I didn’t just a month or so ago.
Stepping out of the elevator, I wiped away my fallen tears, and I feebly attempted to search for Vincent’s office without breaking down. Finding it after a moment, I opened the door, and immediately, Beckham and his father looked over to me.
Beckham stood.
“Mr. Garcia, I’m sorry for intruding—” I began; however, my words were immediately cut short as bile rose to my throat at the memory of me in Gavin’s office only a few hours ago. “Do you have a bathroom or a trash can I can borrow?” I asked in a hurry as my hand went to my rising chest.
“To your left—” Vincent said, confused.
I rushed to the bathroom before sinking to my knees as I heaved into the toilet.
In less than a second, I felt Beckham’s hand on my lower back as he pushed the fallen hairs away from my face.
Wiping away my tears as I tried to calm my breathing, he consoled me. “Flower…”
I shook my head as my hand grabbed his. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
My heart melted as his tone remained soft in contrast to his usual stoic one. Regardless, I allowed him to help me stand and rinsed my mouth before I attempted to make myself look a bit more presentable.
Beckham remained by my side and soon he walked me out of the bathroom as Vincent patiently waited in the middle of the floor, hands in his pockets, expression concerned.
“Rosenna, darling,” he said, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost be congratulating you both on the prospect of providing me with a grandchild—”
“Father,” Beckham warned, his eyes never leaving me as I laughed softly.
“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Garcia, but my nausea is a result of something less worthy of congratulations.”
He nodded silently, and I could tell he didn’t want to pry, but it was obvious he wanted to know. Beckham, in contrast, seemed more concerned about my wellbeing, not too worried about what had me worked up.
Deciding to share, I sighed heavily before I began. “My father dropped in on me this morning, and Gavin arranged a get-together as if we were still on good terms. He invited my parents and my in-laws… And out of spite, I went over to his office to give him a piece of my mind.”
Beckham’s arm tightened around my waist as his eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t have gone to see him,” he practically growled, and I shook my head.
“I want to agree… but if I didn’t go today,” I began, my face blushing slightly as I recalled the events under Vincent’s inquisitive gaze, “I wouldn’t have been able to see the video he has that depicts our affair rather... explicitly.”
“A video?” Beckham asked.
“I don’t know how he got it, but it was after our dinner night. He’s using it to blackmail me. If I don’t continue to be his perfect wife, then my parents, my family, my employees... everyone will know how our marriage came to an end without even having the full story. My reputation, my life... our future is on the line here, Beckham.”
He placed a soft kiss on my forehead as I shuddered at the mere thought of it all. It was bad enough my emotions were spiraling just as much as my racing mind was, I didn’t need the looming threat of my life being exposed adding to it.
Just because you’ve found yourself a little boyfriend, Rosenna… doesn’t mean you’re still not my wife. You’re still mine.
This was all my fault.
“Flower, please...” Beckham whispered against my skin as I did my best not to vomit again.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed Vincent walking over to his desk before pulling out a folder. He walked back over to us and handed it to me as Beckham reluctantly let me go.
Grabbing it from his hand, I looked up into his gaze, which was still warm and fatherly.
“Take the night, Ms. Hart. Review this when you can and return to my office when you’re ready to proceed with the next step.”
The next step?
“The next step of what?” I whispered, attempting to open the folder, but he shook his head as his hand landed on mine to stop me.
“Not right now. Take a few hours. Rest and breathe. Whenever you’re ready, look in this folder. And if I were you, I’d have a glass of wine on hand while you’re at it.”
Sitting in Beckham’s living room, I turned to the next sheet of the forty-page-long detailed report on my once beloved husband. Heeding Vincent’s advice, I took the night to relax my mind, to pamper myself while Beckham was busy painting as he wanted to give me space to think.
Now freshly bathed and dressed in a silk nightgown and robe as my damp hair rested on my shoulders, I swirled my wine in my glass as I tried to piece together the information Vincent’s private investigators, lawyers, cybersecurity team and financial advisors provided me.
I was a bit alarmed to learn that Vincent and Beckham were so deep into an investigation that it practically put Gavin’s blackmail video to shame. I was having trouble processing it, but I’d been struggling to process a lot lately, so it wasn’t anything new.
Placing the open folder on the coffee table, I rubbed my temples as I downed the last of the wine, already ready to pour my third glass.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I felt hands on my shoulders as a small moan escaped me at the feeling of my muscles and tendons being worked.
“How are you holding up, Flower?” Beckham asked.
“To be honest, I’m absolutely livid,” I whispered.
He hummed as I glanced over to the photo next to the folder that continued to mock my marriage.
“The financial advisors showed in detail how much of a fool I was to Brent and Gavin to handle my loans. I’ve barely made a dent in the principal in what I thought were years of successful payments. And thanks to the private investigator, I very quickly learned that my husband has been using my payments to pay his own debt and to silence his mistresses, all of which I was acutely unaware of. Here I was, thinking all of this was my fault, that I was taking on too much, like he said. That I wasn’t being a good wife. That I shouldn’t have taken on so many responsibilities or loans. And while I was busy trying to figure out if I’d done enough to please my husband, he was busy using my profits for his own personal use and finding other women to please him.”
Pouring a fresh glass of wine, I forced myself not to chug it down.
Every dollar I had worked for, every late night I had spent running numbers, every agonizing decision I had made to keep my business afloat… had all been for him.
Beckham silently trailed his hand up and down the side of my face.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him, and he shook his head.
“Nothing to apologize for, my little flower… if anything, I owe you an apology.”
I bit my lip. “What for?”
“For listening to my father’s advice on waiting to tell you about Gavin and not telling you sooner. For making you go on runs as early as four in the morning to clear your racing mind. For putting you through my emotional instability and recklessness.”
I hummed as I placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I quite liked the four AM runs…”
I could only giggle as he leaned into my neck before he nipped at my collarbone. I held back a soft moan as his hands traveled down my chest and to my navel before going back up and repeating the motion.
“This the part where you tell me I’m forgiven…” he muttered against my skin.
I placed my glass on the coffee table before turning toward him on my knees, still on the couch. Leaning over the cushions, my arms wrapped around his neck as he explored my waist and hips shamelessly.
“You are partly forgiven, Mr. Garcia. It’s gonna take a while, though, to look past the fact that you didn’t ask for permission to spy on my soon-to-be ex-husband—though he didn’t exactly ask for my permission either when he embezzled nearly more than a million dollars from me as he slept around.”
Beckham held me closer as he nuzzled his face in my neck.
I sighed, feeling content as I ran my hands through his hair, thoroughly enjoying the moment as his scent engulfed me.
His hand ran up and down my spine softly. “Let me go with you,” he muttered, and I pulled back slightly. “To your family get-together.”
I sighed as I ran my hand through my hair, rising from the couch. Rubbing my lips together, I ran my hands down my robe nervously.
“I don’t know, Beckham,” I whispered.
He rose too, placing his hand on my lower back, then pulled me in closer as he gazed down at me.
“Flower… You and I both know Gavin is only doing this to make you feel vulnerable. He has his family and yours on his side. Who do you have on your side?”
I grinned. “Kira, my obsessed boyfriend, and his oddly controlling billionaire father.”
“So let me be there for you, not just in private but in front of them.”
I bit my lip as I thought about Beckham’s words. The fear that Gavin would expose me was still there, but with the new information I had, the photos, and the solid proof of his deception, it was less. And with Beckham by my side, as I faced them, the fear would almost vanish.
“They’ll take Gavin’s side and scrutinize everything about us,” I whispered.
He shrugged. “Let them. The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”
With a heavy sigh, I nodded, my shoulders feeling lighter as I felt supported by him.
He placed a small kiss on my lips before resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you, Beckham…” I whispered.
He hummed, pushing a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“And I love and only live for you, my little flower…”