Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ALEXANDER
I give Imogen a week to lick her wounds, but when she shows no signs of returning to Oakleigh, or answering any of my texts or phone calls, I fear that if I leave it much longer, she’ll never return. Which is why I’m sitting on my plane at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, waiting for air traffic control to clear us for take-off.
Even the thought of Imogen making our estrangement permanent makes me nauseous. My bed is cold without her, and my chest constantly aches. It’s been the longest week of my life, and nothing has soothed me. Not throwing myself into my work, taking out another mark, or visiting Lilian and trying to figure out how to handle this situation. Even exhausting myself in the gym or galloping over the fields hasn’t helped me sleep.
It’s her I need, and only her.
I eventually told my father we fell out over the tracker, although I kept the contraceptive issue to myself. I’m not ready to see the disappointment on his face, and I’m not sure if I ever will be. He understood my reasoning for putting a tracker in her, though. He, more than anyone, knows the terrible things that can happen if we’re left unprotected.
The whole truth is out there now, though. If I can win back my wife’s affections, then I’ll know she’s coming back for me and accepts our childless status.
If she can’t accept that, then I will let her go. It was what I planned all along, anyway, even if the thought of losing her is like having my abdomen sliced open and my intestines scooped out.
But to lose her over my lies… I won’t accept that. I wish I’d done things differently, but I can’t go back in time. I stand by my decision to put a tracker in her, especially after what happened with Edgerton, but I should have talked to her earlier. I should have told her about Annabel and my fears of those closest to me being abducted. If I had, maybe the outcome would’ve been different… although Imogen has a stubborn streak a mile long. She’d have likely argued her case, but she wouldn’t have won, and in the end, she’d have seen sense, especially given the added context of Annabel’s kidnap and murder.
The plane rises into the air, and I settle down to work, but I can’t concentrate. To win Imogen back, I need to do more than turn up unannounced and beg her to come home. I already pleaded with her not to leave me, and she did. I’ll have to show her our marriage is worth something, that we have a life worth fighting for.
I just don’t know how.
My flight lands thirty minutes ahead of schedule, and at eleven o’clock in the morning, California time, I’m in my armored car on the way to a secure location that Donovan’s made available for me. I put in a call to him on the way to the house .
As much as it pained me to tell him Imogen was headed back to California for a spell, he surprised me by not rubbing my nose in it. He’d have found out sooner or later, anyway. Better for it to come from me. Plus, he’s been helpful setting up security and keeping watch over her since she landed back in California a week ago.
“I’m here. Any problems?”
“She’s been out three times. Once with her friend Emma, once with her mother. I had them monitored the entire time.”
“You said three.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. The third time was to visit several doctors within a twenty-mile radius of her house. I gotta say, man, your woman has persistence in spades.”
I should have known she’d seek medical assistance to have the tracker removed. Guessing that would be her move was another reason I called Donovan and told him what was happening. That way he could make sure there wasn’t a single doctor who’d dare remove it.
“Okay, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“That must’ve hurt.” Another chuckle.
“Fuck off.”
He’s still laughing when I hang up.
The house is comfortable enough, although too modern for my tastes. I quickly freshen up, change into something more suited to a Californian summer, then return to the car. It’s another thirty minutes before my driver pulls into Imogen’s driveway. The security Donovan set up are stationed prominently around the house, offering me a shred of comfort. After what happened with Edgerton, I’m not taking any chances.
I exit the vehicle without waiting for my driver to let me out and smooth a hand down the front of my shirt. Scott appears on the porch before I get a chance to knock on the door.
“Scott.” I nod curtly. “I’m here to see Imogen.”
Without hesitation, he stands back, inviting me in. “We were hoping you’d come. She’s miserable.”
That news makes it hard to keep the smile off my face, but I manage it. “Did she tell you why she’s here?” His answer will guide my approach.
“No. Only that you two had a disagreement, and she decided to come home for a few days.”
I hold back from pointing out that a week is more than a few days, but Imogen keeping the details of our fight private gives me hope.
“I want to see her. Where’s her room?”
Scott shows no annoyance at me asking for directions rather than permission. He points toward the staircase on the left-hand side of the entranceway. There’s an identical one on the right-hand side. “Her room is at the top of the stairs. Second on the right.”
I rap once on her door and enter without waiting for her to grant me access. She’s sitting at a dressing table, and her startled gaze meets mine in the mirror.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you, Little Pawn.” I cross over to her, brushing her hair over one shoulder. Trailing a finger over the back of her neck, I lean down and kiss her there. She shivers, and it’s the only sign I need to convince myself that all is not lost.
“I told you we were over.”
“No. You told me you needed space. I’ve given you space. ”
“You’ve given me a week.”
“It’s more than I would have given anyone else. A lot more.”
Her shoulders lift and fall with the deep breath she takes before she stands to face me. “Do you admit you were in the wrong?”
“I admit I went about things the wrong way, although the circumstances at the time led me to believe I had no other choice available.”
“So, you still think injecting some kind of motherboard into my arm was the right thing to do?”
“Yes.” That tiny piece of technology saved her and subsequently, saved me. I wouldn’t survive losing someone else I loved as deeply as I love Imogen. As deeply as I loved Annabel. If she leaves me because I won’t have children, that’s something I will accept—a reason to let her go. But if she’d been taken from me…
I can’t even bear to think about it.
“Alexander.” She shakes her head.
“I will admit, though, that when I told you about Annabel, I should have also shared my thoughts about children and told you about the birth control. That was wrong. To force that on you was so very wrong. I did it because I wanted you so fucking much, but that doesn’t make it right.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Please, Imogen.” I take her hands in mine and bring them close to me. “Tell me there’s a way through this for us.”
“Take out the tracker.”
“Hard limit.”
“Why?”
“Because it keeps you safe. It’s already proven its worth with Edgerton. Next time, you may not be so lucky.” I kiss her hands. “My world is dangerous. My family has many enemies.”
“Wow. You’re selling this marriage to me. No kids. A chance I could get abducted every time I set foot outside the door.” She laughs bitterly. “You’re a catch, aren’t you? A real catch.”
“My love for you is real. If you give me a chance, I will make you so happy. So fucking happy. We’ve had a tricky start, but if you come back home with me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. I’ll be your rock, your safe place to fall. I need you. Please.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, and she says nothing for at least thirty seconds. Thirty of the longest seconds of my life. Longer, perhaps, than the week we’ve spent apart.
“I’m not ready. I may never be ready, and you have to accept that.”
My stomach drops to the floor. “Is it truly the tracker that’s the deal breaker, or the fact I won’t have children?”
“What would you say if I said it was both?”
For once in my life, I’m unable to come up with an answer. “I don’t know.”
“What if I said I’d relent on one, but not the other?”
The fact she’s negotiating makes me so fucking proud of her, I could burst. Even if I can’t see a way for me to give in on either one.
“Which one?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll think about it.”
“How long do you need?”
“I’ll let you know.” She returns to the dressing table and picks up a hairbrush. “You can go now.”
If anyone else summarily dismissed me, I’d rip their heads off. But when Imogen does it, I want to kneel at her feet and worship her.
“I’ll call by tomorrow.”
“No. I’ll call you. Until then… I guess you’ll have to wait.”
My wife. My queen. She’s incredible.
“As you wish.”
Scott and Jessica must hear me coming down the stairs, because they appear from the living room. Jessica is wringing her hands while Scott rubs at the back of his neck.
“Is she going back with you?” Jessica asks.
“No.”
Her face falls. “We’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. I can only apologize, Alexander. This is not the woman I raised her to be. I raised an obedient girl—one who would not disobey her husband like this.”
How I keep my incredulity from spilling all over my face is a mystery. I’ve never met a more disobedient woman than Imogen, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s the thing I first fell in love with. No one outside the family has ever challenged me. She was a breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed until I breathed her in and realized I’d been suffocating for years.
Jessica rubs her lips together, opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it again.
“What is it, Jessica?” My tone is coated with impatience.
“Are we… is Scott…” She shakes her head. “If Imogen won’t return with you, will Scott lose his business?”
I close my eyes briefly, breathing out through my nose. It’s unsurprising they thought about the consequences of Imogen leaving me. The contract they signed with my father makes it clear that the success of Scott’s business is predicated on my marriage to Imogen. If the marriage fails, then it’s a logical leap for them to make that we’ll withdraw our support, and with it, the contacts and supply chains Scott has built a successful business on.
“The deal was that Imogen marry me, which she did. Your business won’t suffer through any actions from me or my family.
Jessica’s shoulders sag. “Thank you. And I promise, we’ll keep on at her to return to you.”
“No.” My rebuttal is instant. I don’t want Imogen coerced. I want her to return to me of her own free will. “This is our marriage. We will sort through our problems in private.”
When three days pass without my wife contacting me, my patience runs out. I message my father, letting him know I’ll have to miss my first ever family dinner, but as this counts as a major fucking crisis, he won’t have an issue. All he’ll want is for me to return home with Imogen.
It’s finally clear what I have to do. I must remind my wife that what we have is worth fighting for. Grabbing a pen and paper, I jot down a list of things I can do to show her how much she means to me.
Tomorrow, my plan to win Imogen back begins.