Page 27 of Ly to Me
Thirty days with Carver Roland as my husband.
10
Carver
The Pillow
Isat on the couch all night, messaging the family lawyer and getting future affairs in order. Any documents to secure the bet between Jamie and me were also drawn up, and would behand-delivered in less than twelve hours, along with my shiny, new marriage certificate.
Truthfully, I couldn’t tell which part of the night Jamie had been more upset about—me winning the facility, or me winning a woman who didn’t seem to give a damn that he had someone else on his lap. The speed with which he packed up a few of his things and had Aubrey hauled out with him was the cherry on top.
Nothin’ tasted sweeter than knowing my property would be mine again.
Just. Mine.
The water line started humming well before the sun rose. My feet had a mind of their own, tappin’ away like that would make the next thirty days pass by any faster before I couldn’t take it anymore. She was in my room, had slept in my bed, and was now using my shower. I knew Lyra only signed because of the money, but she had no clue what she’d agreed to do.
She was about to find out.
The water was still going as I leaned against my bedpost, glaring at the clock that tested my patience. A slip of red caught my eye right as the water turned off and faint female humming replaced the silence. I reached for the lace and balled it in my fist.
When the door opened, her gasp replaced the humming, and my anticipation covered the simmering rage from hearing that tune after ten years of avoiding it.
“Carver.” Her eyes darted around as if she expected someone else or was looking for a way out.
“Put this on.” I threw the lace set and her towel shifted slightly as she caught it.
Lyra’s eyes widened when she finally looked down at her hands. “No.”
“I wasn’t fuckin’ asking. That was an order.”
Her brown eyes darkened. “I’m not putting this on for you.”
I laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ly.” Nodding toward the bag on the floor, I met her angry stare with my own. “I expect to see what I bought for my wife on her impromptu shopping spree.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not your”—I rushed into her, pushing her against the wall with my fingers curled around her neck—“wife.” She reached up, trying to free herself from my hold, which I then tightened.
“Wrong again.” I gripped hard enough for her to cough and for a bit of the red in her cheeks to dull. “You signed, agreeing to a lot more than just becoming my wife on paper.” I released her neck, and she dropped to the floor, gasping. I crouched down, splaying my hand above her on the wall. “You really should read contracts before blindly agreein’ to money.”
“You”—she rubbed her neck—“can’t do that.”
“I can.” As I reached for her chin, she slapped my hand away. So, I forced her back against the wall by the throat, giving her a little more space to breathe this time. With my other hand, I reached back, retrieving the lace she threw. “Now, I’m going to step out and youwillput this on.”
Her lips popped open. “Think real hard before you speak.” Her mouth snapped shut, and I grinned. “That’s what I thought. Remember, if you run, I will find you.” Standing, I sifted through her purse before leaving the room, then pulled out my phone to make a call.
“Not comin’ in today.” No point in beating around the bush.
“No problem. Jamie is already here.”
I rubbed my knuckles along my jaw. “That so?”
“Yeah. You feeling okay, boss?” Leo, the operations manager, actually sounded worried for me.
“Dandy.” I wedged my phone between my ear and shoulder. “Just want some privacy with my wife.”
Silence stretched on the line before Leo finally asked, “Wife? Did you say wife or is that a girl’s name I haven’t heard of before?”
“You heard correctly. I’ll be in tomorrow. Don’t let Jamie touch my hybrids or go snoopin’ around Warehouse One.”
