Chapter 27 #3
His eyes tilt down as he checks the picture, and his expression suddenly changes; his good mood is gone.
“Do you know this man?” I ask.
A muscle throbs in his jaw.
He slides my phone onto the nightstand next to him and falls back into the pillow, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Who’s that?” I murmur.
“That’s my brother.”
A few long moments of silence pass before he hands me my phone, and he slides a folded arm over his face as he relaxes in the pillow, hiding his expression.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I murmur.
“He’s a ghost. A memory of the past.”
“So, you’re not in good terms, I gather.”
“I haven’t seen him since before I met Henrietta.”
“Somehow, the two of them have found each other,” I comment.
He breathes a sarcastic chuckle.
“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?”
“Do you think she knew the history of your family?”
“Any gold digger worth their salt will do their due diligence. They're canvassing their territory, the way burglars do it before breaking into a house.”
“Wow. She is something, isn’t she?”
He says nothing.
“In this case, I think he found her. Stealing money from me must’ve been his idea.”
“Why would he do that?”
He looks at me, weighing his answer.
“Because we never saw eye to eye. He also accidentally killed our father.”
“Uh… Shouldn’t he be in prison for that?”
“He was charged with involuntary manslaughter, but the circumstances were a little fuzzy, and there were no witnesses, although it happened in our house, so he walked free.”
I swallow hard.
He goes on.
“There were other things. Women we fought over. Money we had made and lost. We were always in competition with each other. At some point, he picked up and left. No one missed him. Well, my mother did. He was her firstborn. She died of a broken heart soon after. I’ve never heard from him ever since. ”
“So, what will happen now?” I ask after a while.
He sighs.
“Nothing. I won’t touch him. I’m doing it for my late mother, not him. She would be heartbroken again if she knew I killed her beloved son.”
“Would you do that if it wasn’t for her?’
His lips curve into a smile.
“He’d probably try to kill me first. So, yeah, I’d defend myself.”
“How old is he?”
“He’s thirty-eight. Five years older than me,” he says before his anger dissipates and his eyes soften.
“Thanks for the picture. It’s good to know what he’s been up to. They’ll go away for a while. Henrietta is a sour loser, and he’s no better.”
“What about us? Do you have any plans for us?’
“I have plenty of plans. I have to ask my future wife whether she’s up for any of the things I had planned while I was in prison. It sounds horrible, but spending some time in jail does wonders for your planning,” he says with humor.
“Tell me what you’ve got.”
“What about we travel for a while?”
“What about your businesses?”
“I asked Randal to sell the club. Everything else is managed by my people. Lawyers and accountants.”
He glides his fingers over my face.
“So, where would you like to go?” he asks.
“Give me some options.”
“South America. Europe. Asia.”
“Where in Europe?”
“Have you traveled before?” he asks, as my questions keep coming.
“No.”
“Okay, then. We’ll pick a random place. What kind of weather would you like?”
“Sunshine all the time.”
He flashes a smile.
“We’ll find something for you.”
He wraps an arm around me.
“What do you like?” I ask against his lips.
“I like any place as long as I’m with you,” he says quietly before he parts my legs with his hand and slowly enters me.
He rocks his hips gently.
“I really don’t care where we live for a while. I just want to be with you. You’ll get the sunshine that you want. I’ll get more moments like this,” he says with a grin.
We kiss, enjoying the pulsing heat between us.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” I say, expressing some of the fears I’ve kept bottled up all this time.
“I think you did. You just didn’t know how long it would take.”
He pauses before he continues.
“I don’t want to be away from you again, so we’ll take it easy. No crazy stuff,” he says.
Winding my arms around his neck, I kiss his lips.
“No crazy stuff. Only you and me,” I murmur, experiencing the first surge of pleasure, and letting myself be carried away for the first time without fearing that I might lose this man.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says, his eyes unfocused, lustful, his hunger growing. “Nothing compares to having someone to return to,” he adds, his voice hoarse, while happy tears dance on the edges of my lashes.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say before we kiss again, having all the time in the world.
Only for us. And what’s to come.
Thank you for reading The Bad Husband.