Page 84 of Inconvenient Marriage
But if it makes him feel better, I’ll do it. So I text him back that I’m on it before tossing my phone to the couch. I’m in the living room. Besides the bedroom, it’s my favorite one in the house. Not only because it has a huge television and a comfy ass couch, but because this is the room where Sebastien and I first signed our contracts.
Humming to myself as I pad toward the front door, I freeze when I swear I hear something. It’s a soft creek, followed by a pair of footsteps as though someone has just let themselves into the house.
Cold dread shivers up my spine.
“Hello?” It has to be my husband. Maybe the text was delayed because service in the Fortress can be shit sometimes, and he sent that before he turned around and came home for something. “Sebastien? Is that you?”
No answer.
I roll my eyes, chiding myself. It’s nothing. I imagined it. Sebastien put the idea in my head when he told me to lock the door. There’s no one here?—
I step into the foyer and freeze.
Because that’s Eric Ward standing there, the door closed behind him.
Oh, no…oh, no. It can’t be. The salt-and-pepper hair… the shrewd and cold blue eyes… the suit that I’ve seen him wear a hundred times. Thisscenehas played out a hundred times. Jonathan warning me that the master was home, and how he expected me to be standing in the front room, hair perfect, dress perfect, make-up perfect, ready to do whatever it was he expected of his mistress.
Only I’m not his mistress. I’m Sebastien Reynold’s wife.
And I’m in fucking trouble.
“What are you… how… how did you get in here?”
Eric looks insulted by the question. Duh. I know exactly how he got into my home, and his answer confirms it: “Silly girl. You didn’t lock the door.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. His cruel gaze sweeps over me, lips curving in distaste when he takes in my appearance. My bare legs, the oversized shirt that I stole from Sebastien’s closet after we had a before dinner quickie, my sex-fluffed hair wild and down since I had no plans of leaving the house.
Something ugly sparks in his eyes.
My stomach revolts. Something ugly. Something hate-filled.
And Eric is looking atmelike that.
I take a step back. I don’t know exactly where I’m going, butawayseems like a pretty good idea even as I whisper, “You shouldn’t be here.”
He raises a brow. “Why not? It used to be our routine. Me coming home to you or the both of us leaving the office together.” His lips twitch, then curve into a mocking smile. “Now you’re playing house with the Reynolds boy.”
My fingers curl at my sides.Boy. Sebastien is twenty-nine. In the hierarchy of the Order, his name puts him on top of Eric. He’s myhusband…
I swallow, wrapping my arms under my boobs, hugging myself. “Eric. You need to leave. Please.”
He steps closer. “No. I don’t think I will.”
I back up. “Sebastien will come home soon?—”
“Good.” He says the single syllable just the way that my husband does. But then Eric smiles, sharp and deranged, and I have to bite back my moan of fright. “I want him to see you choose me. And if you don’t… I told you, sweetheart. I told you what would happen if you chose anyone else. Annul your marriage. Claim fraud. I don’t care. You’re coming home with me or else…”
My stomach drops to my feet as his threat trails off. I don’t have my phone. I don’t haveanything. It’s just me and Eric, and the insane gleam in his eyes.
“But why?” I choke out. “You have Cicely!”
“Why? Because I miss you.” Eric steps closer, clearly stalking me. “Iloveyou.”
I stare at him. Love me? Not the fuck he doesn’t.
“You’re incapable of love,” I whisper. “You just want to own me.”
His smile widens. Another step. “Idoown you.”
