Chapter 64
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Harper
Ten Days Later…
My fingers hover over Ace's Instagram story. I don't click it. I can't. Instead, I stare at his post from ten minutes ago.
He hasn't blocked me. So that's something.
Shirt off. Smiling with Seven next to him. I don't know why, but I scroll through the comments. So many women. All thirsting after him. And I don't blame them. He is panty-melting. The most handsome man I've ever seen.
And me? I'm rotting in bed for the second day in a row because I feel like death. All I want is Ace to hold me and tell me I'm okay. But I'm seriously starting to think I'm not. I can't eat. I can't sleep through the night. The stomach cramps are insane.
Emma thinks I'm stressed. She's worried about me. Hell, I’m starting to worry about myself.
Hudson thinks I'm being dramatic and is making me go back to work today.
I look at the two rings on my finger, and another wave of nausea washes over me. Maybe being married to this asshole is literally making me sick.
Or maybe I'm just heartbroken.
I run my finger across Ace's face on the screen, and a tear slips down my cheek. I'm glad he looks okay. That he's carrying on. He's got another rodeo this Friday. As long as he's okay, it's going to be fine.
I can deal with this. I've done the hard part, I'm married. I'm here in LA. I just need Hudson's dad to sign over the company, and then I need to see with my own eyes Hudson delete every last piece of what he has on me and the other women.
Then I can try to fight for my future back.
The look on Ace's face still haunts me. I really think he meant it. He's done with me. And I don't blame him. Not one bit.
All I do is hurt him. I just want one more chance to make it right. One more.
I drag myself out of bed, jump in the shower, and try to cover up the dark circles under my eyes with whatever concealer I can find.
"Harper, are you ready yet?" Hudson calls from the hallway.
"Ten minutes!" I shout back.
As if this wasn't humiliating enough, he's making a complete show of me at work. Everyone knows we're married; hell, a lot of them were there. Samantha can barely look at me. The whole floor treats me differently now. I'm not Harper the journalist anymore. I'm Hudson's wife. His accessory.
I grab the first outfit that comes to hand. My jewelry box stares at me from the dresser. Holding my breath, I open it.
The A necklace stares back at me.
I put it on. Tuck it under my collar where Hudson won't see it. Maybe if I have this on, it won't be so bad. A little sparkly piece of Ace against my chest might get me through the horrors of the day.
Hudson is waiting by the door, glued to his phone. He glances up as I come down the stairs and frowns.
"Is that what you're wearing? I got you a whole new wardrobe, and you choose your old cheap crap?"
I shrug. "I like my own stuff. I already told you that."
He rolls his eyes.
"Go take some vitamins. You look half dead."
My eyes go wide. "I'm fine, Hudson. I don't need you telling me how to live my entire life. I think I'm already doing quite enough for you under the circumstances, don't you?"
His jaw tenses.
"Speaking of… When is your dad signing the company over?" I ask.
"Soon. I can't rush him. He'll get suspicious."
"Hmm. Maybe he should be."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Hudson pushes himself upright from the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"It takes as long as I say it takes. I'm being a pretty good husband.
You've got all your meals cooked. You've still got your job.
A whole new collection of designer clothes.
You get to live in this mansion." He gestures around the foyer.
"You've got what so many women dream of, yet you still aren't happy. "
I swallow the bile rising in my throat.
"You're blackmailing me to be here. I'm the opposite of happy."
I lost everything.
He chews on his lip. "You made me do this, Harper. Remember that. I didn't want to stoop to those levels."
I place my hand on my hip. "And what about the other women? Did they all push you, too?"
He chuckles. The sound makes my skin crawl.
"I have my reasons, Harper."
I open my mouth, but he swings open the front door before I can speak.
"You’re looking at this all wrong. We could also make a lot of money, Harper. Your video was hot as fuck. We could even make some new ones together," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Like I’d ever fuck him. I would rather he killed me at this point.
My blood boils. My fists clench. And my head starts to spin so violently, I have to grab the doorframe to keep from hitting the floor.
"Shit," I hiss.
He's already climbing into the driver's seat of his Bentley. Already moved on. Already treating the worst thing he's ever said to me like small talk.
I hate this man. I hate him more than anything.
But I also hate myself. For getting here. For letting it get this far. For every choice that led me to this doorframe in this mansion in this city, dizzy and nauseous and wearing another man's necklace under my collar because it's the only thing keeping me alive.
I take a breath. Steady myself and walk to the car.