Now he’s all CEO. One who’s handing over the tools to his successor.
I pull up the documents on my device. He takes me through them. One after the other. Relentless. Projections. P&L. Cash flow forecasts. Payroll and benefits summaries. HR challenges. Vendor & contracts fulfillment. The hours wear on.
Except for a short break, where he serves me coffee from the minibar in the corner of the room, he doesn’t stop. His analysis is precise. He outlines foreseen problems in a crisp tone. Astute. Summarizing complex operational objectives and potential conflict zones between department heads. My head spins. My eyes hurt, but I don’t complain. I can do this.
I can keep pace with his steel-trap-like mind. I can deliver on therole he’s entrusted me with. When my phone buzzes, I welcome the respite. It’s on my desk, face up.
His glance is drawn to it, as is mine.
The screen indicates: Keith calling
Huh? Why would he phone me? To be honest, I’ve forgotten about my ex. Also, maybe I’m exhausted from perusing all the spreadsheets, but my reflexes are slow.
Before I can reach for my phone, my husband snatches it up and answers. "Hello?" He raises his gaze to mine. "If you try to reach my wife again, I’ll come over and tear your tongue from your throat." He disconnects, then his fingers fly over the screen.
"What are you doing?"
"Blocking him so he’ll never reach you again." He slides the phone across the desk.
A warm rush of sensations pools between my legs. When Brody gets all possessive, it’s the sweetest, most erotic, most reassuring feeling ever. He makes me feel owned and claimed and seen, in a way my ex never could.
Still, I feel drawn to put up a token of resistance. "That was an invasion of my privacy.”
Not that it’s going to make a difference.
Brody’s a law unto his own. Also, he’s invaded so much of my body, him doing the same to my privacy feels minor by comparison.
When he continues to stare at me from under hooded eyelids, I firm my lips. "You didn’t have to go all caveman." Internally though, my heart booms in my chest, my stomach flutters, and my traitorous pussy is swollen with being turned on at how he told Keith off. How he seemed pissed off and upset, andjealousthat my ex called me.
How can I be so stupidly happy that he asserted his control over me? This, after telling me that he didn’t want to share a room with me.
"I beg to disagree.” He firms his mouth. “The thought of your ex trying to talk to you, makes my blood boil.”
45
Brody
I’m frustrated at the jealousy I feel that her ex called her. And I’m confused about these primitive feelings welling up inside of me. The bitterness that he has her number, that she considered answering his phone call, makes me want to take her across my lap and punish her.
I glare at her, and she pales.
Then, in that spirited response I’ve come to expect of her, she tips up her chin. "I didn’t do anything wrong."
"You still have his number in your phone; that was wrong."
"Maybe, he was calling because he owes me the money for the wedding."
"We don't need it."
"Ididalmost marry him," she points out.
"But you didn’t. You married me." I lean forward in my seat. "You’remywife."
I don’t bother to hide the proprietary tone in my voice. I’m giving away how, despite moving into the guest room and wanting to keepsome separation between us, I’m not quite succeeding. Given how she watches me with a speculative look in her eyes, it’s clear she’s noticed it too.
"You call me your wife, yet you’re unable to deal with the emotions that evokes in you.” Her voice trembles. “You don’t want to share me. You’re upset because my ex called, yet you can’t name your feelings. You can’t own your vulnerabilities." She curls her fingers into fists.
I drag a hand through my hair, frustration tightening in my chest. She’s right. I want her. I love her. And yet, the words stay trapped behind my teeth. She looks at me, waiting.
