“I’ve known you for almost two decades, pretty girl,” he said, purposely using Mortician’s nickname for her. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Her lower lip trembled and her nose reddened. “I know. You’re a good man. Despite what Meggie thinks.”
“Your cousin,” he reminded her just to upset her a little more.
“Yes,” she spat. “My cousin.”
“That Mortician knew about.”
“He said he didn’t.”
“If Kendall and Christopher knew, then Mortician knew.”
Her face crumpled. “You’re right, Johnnie,” she whispered.
“Aren’t I always, baby?”
Vulnerability shone in her liquid gaze, her eyes more green than brown. “Are you fl-flirting with me?”
Johnnie winked at her. “Someone has been neglecting you if you have to ask that question, Bailey.”
She nodded. “He has been,” she said, knowing Johnnie knew the ‘he’ in question. “Something he’s never done in our years together. He was a notorious womanizer before he met me.”
Not exactly true, but he wouldn’t correct her. The reality wouldn’t serve his purpose.
“I’ve only ever slept with him,” Bailey continued. “Do you think he’s cheating on me, Johnnie?”
Yes! WithJohnnie’swife to boot. Sleeping with Bailey would be too fucking easy. Besides, he couldn’t exactly announce that without that motherfucker gunning for him. No, psychological torture was so much more fucking fun and effective.
“It’s very quiet in here.” Johnnie drained his glass and stood. “Can I have another drink, pretty girl?”
“Of course,” she said, and shrugged. “You’re welcomed to anything you’d like.”
“Do you mean that, Bailey?” he said huskily.
She flushed. “Within reason.”
“Only you can set those boundaries.”
Fidgeting, she averted her gaze, so Johnnie went to the cabinet where she kept the bottles of alcohol she poured into decanters. He brought the Scotch to the table and sat down again.
“Are you the only one here?”
“No,” she answered. “The boys are upstairs.”
She drained her glass and contemplated the bottle but didn’t reach for it.
“Howareyou and Mortician, sweetheart?” Johnnie asked, infusing his voice with as much concern as he could muster.
“Wearen’t,” Bailey said, her bitterness more pronounced because of her slight slurring. “He says he wants us to workthings out, then he doesn’t even try.” Tears filled her eyes and she sniffled. “I love him and miss him so much.”
After refilling his glass, Johnnie gulped his Scotch and moved in for the kill. “Unfortunately, your husband is going the way of a lot of wealthy Black men.”
“What…? I beg your pardon?”
Unlike with Megan when he homed in on her insecurity about another pregnancy, targeting Bailey’s lack of confidence because of how she looked wasn’t to save her life. It was to reclaim his wife and save their marriage. Besides, it was so much easier leveling his wrath at Christopher and Mortician’s wives rather than directing it atthem.
“What are you talking about, Johnnie? Explain.”
