“Yes. I just shouldn’t have paired Moscato and Budweiser.” The lie came out smoothly.
Cora snorted, then replied, “Day drinking, Kendra? You need to take it easy, especially if what I think happened actually happened.”
There was a knowing edge to her voice that told Kendra that Cora knew more than she was saying.
She wanted to ask her sister-in-law what she thought might have happened, but after that retch-fest, she was all bled out of energy and just wanted to curl into a ball and nap.
“I need to go,” she muttered, hating that she couldn’t be open and honest with the one friend she’d gained over the last three years, because the woman was married to Gideon’s brother, and she didn’t want to force Cora to keep a secret from her husband.
“Okay, babe. Keep in touch, and please let me know if I can help—the offer of niece cuddles is still on the table.”
She chuckled weakly. “I will. Give the girls kisses from me.”
They ended their call, and Kendra curled onto the bed, the heat from the fireplace in the master bedroom unable to stop the chill that invaded her as she let exhaustion drag her under.
Chapter Eight
For the millionth time that night, Gideon rolled over on a bed that may have cost him ten grand but felt like cardboard on a bench. The space beside him seemed empty of all warmth, and was devoid of the fresh scent of vanilla and sugar andher.
The beast inside him whimpered, his head tucked into his paws, his eyes drooping with sorrow—and the man was fairing no better.
She should have been home by now, her tantrum over, lying beside him, cuddled up into his side, sharing body heat, waiting with bated breath for him to reach over, pull her into his arms, and kiss her in that spot just below her ear that always made her shudder with pleasure.
It wasn’t a tantrum; she’s not going to get over it. You hurt her, and she might never come back.
But he couldn’t fathom that. What would a life look like without Kendra?
She just needed time…space...but to what end? She still had to come home, back to him. They were married, their names both scrawled on the marriage certificate, both their names etched into the prenup, one that said things Kendra hadn’t even bothered to read.
She was too trusting. Too naïve. Too starved for the family she’d been denied her whole life.
And he’d taken advantage of that.
And so did Mancini….
His gaze dropped to the vanity across the large master suite, where Kendra would sit and doll herself for this gala or that charity dinner, taking great care to make herself into the image of the perfect wife to Gideon Maddox.
But she hadn’t needed makeup to do that, did she?
He missed her.
He missed his wife.
And it was his own damn fault.
He could have dealt with the Mancini bullshit without ever dropping Kendra into it, but he’d hesitated, determined to hold his true power close to his chest—the power player, the king of all, the smartest, most dangerous man in the room.
But in that office, with Isabella standing there, and with Adolfo Mancini on the phone, he’d allowed his pride, his ego, to hold fast.
He told himself that it wasn’t the time to show the true extent of the Maddox empire, that he needed Mancini to remain in his little bubble where he thought he held all the power, but was really a rat in the sewer of Gideon Maddox’s kingdom.
He thought he would triumph that morning, that Isabella would leave disappointed and Adolfo would be pissed but placated, but that wasn’t what happened…and his wife had paid the price.
The phone rang, and Isabella smirked—she knew what was coming even when he didn’t.
The first red flag appeared.
He held her gaze, pouring every ounce of displeasure into that look, and she had the grace to flinch. She was far tooconfident for someone who was even in the building at his leisure.
