Page 63 of Bitter Heat

“What is this place?”

“An exclusive residence for the wealthiest people in the world.”

“But how can you afford this?”

The elevator opened into an entry hall that was just as impressive as the lobby. He strode in with her suitcase, leaving her to follow in stunned silence. The feeling of disquiet she had been experiencing since she arrived began to spread. She wrapped her arms around herself as her sneakers squeaked on polished marble. The penthouse was completely furnished. There were books on the shelves, a vase with orchids on the kitchen island, and papers scattered over a desk in the corner of the great room. The penthouse was modern, chic, extravagant, and clearly lived in.

“I don’t understand,” she said faintly.

He strode to the wet bar. “What?”

“This has to be worth millions.”

“Yes.”

He tipped his head back as he downed a drink. She stared at his rigid back and tried to get her exhausted mind to function. She had been riding high on being reunited with her husband, but that had long since faded. Now, she was jet-lagged and fatigued and had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was about to step off the edge of a cliff.

“I thought you weren’t doing well,” she said carefully.

He didn’t respond.

“You said my dad ruined you.”

He turned with a half-filled glass in hand. She had never seen him drink before, so seeing the generous amount of liquor made her feel even more ill at ease. She felt as if she was staring at a stranger rather than her husband of two years. Roth tended to be more on the reserved side, but his expression was far from impassive. The lines of his face were set in hard lines, and something about his stare made her stomach churn.

“He did ruin me.”

“But…?” She waved her hand at their surroundings.

“He did severe damage to my American assets to the point that it wasn’t worth rebuilding. He wasn’t able to wreck the investments I made here in the UK. This is one of them that has panned out.”

“You were an investor for this property?”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes from her. “What are you doing here, Jasmine?”

“I…” Her voice sounded small and tentative to her own ears. “I thought you couldn’t come home because of money, so I used my own to come and surprise you.”

They stared at one another across the expanse of the great room. The silence pulsed with something awful and ugly. She wanted to go to him, to soothe away whatever was eating at him, but she stayed where she was. She had no idea how to handle him in this mood. Whenever he came home to Philadelphia, he acted like he couldn’t get enough of her, but now… He hadn’t even kissed her and was treating her like an unwelcome visitor.

“Why…?” She swallowed and gathered herself. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing well?”

A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I have a long way to go.”

“But…” She tried to tread carefully. “How much do you need?”

“Enough to pay your father back.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“A deal fell through today,” he said as he rocked the liquid in his glass from side to side.

She had an inkling of what he was going to say and steeled herself.

“Your dad’s still fucking with me.”

Her heart sank. “I’m sorry, Roth. Maybe… maybe I can talk to him—”

“Don’t.”

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