Chapter 29 Hollis
Chapter Twenty-Nine
HOLLIS
“More,” she demands, and I swear that one word goes straight to my dick.
Unfortunately, that is not what my wife is referring to.
“Are you sure?” I swing around to face her. She’s got her plate held out, with several neatly stacked pancakes covered in maple syrup. But she doesn’t seem to care about any of that. All she wants is—
“Give me the bacon, Beck.”
I grin, holding up both hands. “Okay, okay. I’m just looking out for you. You’re thirty now. You’ve gotta watch out for cholesterol and shit.”
“You’re thirty-two. Are you sure you should even be having any at all?” She flutters her lashes, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips.
God, she’s fucking cute.
After we thoroughly consummated our marriage this morning, we had an encore performance in the shower and then on the couch.
Just for good measure.
Got to make sure it sticks.
Now, it’s late afternoon, and the two of us are fucking starving. So I offered to make us a very late breakfast.
I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling all damn day.
“Are you trying to steal my bacon?”
She shrugs, her oversized sweatshirt slipping off her shoulder. “Just trying to save you the cholesterol. Plus, I worked up quite the appetite.”
I smirk. “Yeah, you did.”
She squeals with excitement when I add several more slices of bacon to her plate. This woman would eat breakfast for every meal if given the chance.
I top off her coffee, hand her the creamer, and then work on fixing my own plate. By the time I take the seat next to her at the kitchen island, she’s grown silent.
“What’s up, Pres?” I ask, sensing her quick change in mood.
She turns to me, her expression somber. “What am I going to do about the video, Hollis?”
I knew our post-coital bliss would eventually fade, and reality would rush back. It had to. Jace’s deadline was approaching, and we needed to come up with a plan.
I set down my fork and take her hand. “I think you mean, what are we going to do.”
She opens her mouth to argue. “It’s not—”
“You’re my wife, Pres,” I press. “Not just in the bedroom or when it’s convenient. I know we don’t exactly remember our vows, but I will still do everything in my power to uphold them. I will honor and cherish you. And right now, I will protect you.”
“Jesus, Hollis, you’re gonna make me cry all over my bacon.”
I huff out a laugh, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “There’s more in the oven.”
“God, you really are perfect.”
I give her a hesitant smile. “You may not think so when I tell you this next part. I think we should go to the police.”
Her eyes widen. “But he said not to.”
“I know.” I offer her my hand. She takes it willingly. “I know. But here’s the thing with people like Jace. He’s gonna keep coming back, Pres. He’ll use that video to squeeze every last dime he can out of you, ’cause he knows you’re terrified of it damaging Hendrix and Zander’s careers.
“But won’t he just do that anyway if I go to the police?”
“Not if he’s behind bars. What he did was a serious crime. He filmed you without your consent, blackmailed you, and threatened to distribute it. That’s at least three felony charges, not including what he did to your bar.”
She looks genuinely conflicted, and I get it. “I know it’s a risk, so I will support you no matter what you decide. If you want to pay him off, that’s what we’ll do.”
“But I don’t have the money, Hollis. Even if I wanted to, I can’t pay what he’s asking. I’d have to go to my parents, and then I’d have to tell them about everything—the stealing, the break-in…”
This is the part of the conversation I’m dreading. “I can.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“I can pay it.”
“That’s…a lot of cash. How?”
Breakfast forgotten, I nervously lick my lips. “When we first started talking, and you asked me about my job, you made an assumption, and for some reason I never chose to correct you.”
“What assumption did I make?” she asks softly.
“That I’m the manager of Velvet.”
“You’re not?”
I shake my head. “I’m the owner.”
“The owner? But I thought that was Jonas.”
“We co-own it.” Jonas and I co-own several other restaurants and properties in Nashville, but we handed off day-to-day operations a while ago.
Judging by the shocked look on my wife’s face, I think I’ll save that explanation for later.
“He’s the face of the company. I run everything behind the scenes. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“At first? Because money makes me uncomfortable. Jonas says I’m a guilty millionaire, and maybe that’s true. Growing up the way I did, having a mom who constantly chased wealth…” I shrug my shoulders. “I never want to become one of those people who think money fixes everything.”
Her throat works. “And then later on?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was one of those people who use money to fix everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“The bar was struggling, and I wanted to help you, but I knew you’d never take it if you thought it might be monetary.”
She just stares at me. “So you’ve been sweeping my floors for two months with no pay, when you could have bought the whole damn bar without breaking a sweat?”
I shrug. “Basically.”
Her mouth hangs open, stunned. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you right now.”
“I vote for kiss. Our marriage isn’t fake anymore. I have the scratch marks down my back to prove it. I’d hate for you to go to jail for murdering your very real husband.” I fake a grimace.
She throws her head back and laughs. I live for that fucking laugh.
“So you don’t hate me?”
She snorts. “Because my oopsie husband happens to be a millionaire? Nah, I’m good.”
“I don’t love the term ‘oopsie husband.’ Can we workshop that?”
She laughs. “Sure, Daddy Warbucks. But I’m not letting you pay off Jace.”
“Pres—”
She holds up her hand. “No. You’re right. If we pay him off, he’ll just keep coming back.”
“So what do you want to do?”
She lets out a slow exhale. “I want to go to the police. I want that fucker to pay.”
By the time we return from the police department, Presley is emotionally drained but feeling confident in her decision. The detective assigned to the case, Stephanie Cortez, was extremely patient and knowledgeable, praising Presley’s bravery.
She told us it would hopefully prevent him from victimizing other women in the future. I think that meant a lot to Pres.
After we handed over the evidence, including Jace’s text and the bar’s surveillance footage, Detective Cortez asked Pres to describe exactly what happened last night since the security footage didn’t have sound.
Hearing her recount some of the things he said to her was…challenging. Having Presley back in my life has stirred up a lot of unfamiliar emotions in me. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but sometimes I feel overwhelmed by them, like my need to protect her from her asshole ex.
I haven’t been able to find a new therapist since I moved to LA. Honestly, I haven’t made much effort to look. I’ve been so swept up in work and my new life that I put therapy on the back burner.
I think it might be time for that to change.
Because if there is one thing I refuse to fail at, it’s her.
Pres is quiet when we step into the apartment. She has been since we left the station. I set my keys down on the counter. When I turn, she’s standing in the living room, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Do you think I’m stupid for not seeing it sooner?”
“What?” My brow furrows.
“Jace was robbing me blind for months, and I didn’t even notice. How is that possible?”
I thought she had moved past this. I thought with the Halloween event approaching and things beginning to look up, she’d given herself a little grace.
But I should have known better because when things go wrong, she always feels responsible. She considers herself the family fuckup, so of course, everything is her fault.
“Did I ever tell you why my mom’s relationships never worked out?”
“’Cause she was selfish?”
“Yeah, actually,” I answer with a humorless laugh.
“Wait, really?”
I shrug, motioning for her to sit. We both settle on the couch.
She tucks her feet under and nuzzles into my side.
“My mom was really good at charming people. Teachers, cops, men,” I explain.
“On top of that, she was young and good-looking. Finding a guy was never an issue. If she had really wanted to, she could have found someone. Fallen in love. But she always wanted more.”
“I remember this one guy, Aaron. He was nice. Had a good job. I think the poor bastard actually loved my mom. Unfortunately for Aaron, I’m not sure she was wired that way.
When he found his mother’s wedding ring stuffed in her sock drawer, I think a part of him broke that day.
Pretty sure he would have given it to her eventually if she’d just waited. ”
“God, Hollis. That’s horrible.”
“Selfish people do selfish things, Pres. It’s not anyone’s fault but their own,” I say, trying to shake off the memory. It was the only time in my childhood, other than that year with the Creeds, when I felt safe. Aaron wasn’t perfect, but he tried.
It was more than my own mother ever did.
“You’re right,” she says. “I’ve blamed myself for his actions for far too long. I’m done letting Jace fuck with my head. I’m…”
I wince. Presley isn’t the only one trying to recover from what she saw on that video. “Can we not use the words ‘Jace’ and ‘fuck’ in the same sentence?”
“Oh!” She looks up at me and snorts. “You know I was faking it, right?”
My lips quirk. “I’ve become well acquainted with the sounds you make when you come, Pres. Yeah, I know.”
Her eyes twinkle with mischief, and I watch as she swings her leg over my hip to straddle me. My hands immediately settle on her waist. “Are you? ’Cause I could demonstrate if you need a refresher?”
I groan. “I’m gonna hate myself for saying this, but can I take a rain check?”
She gasps dramatically. “Are you sick of me already?”