She shook her head. “I’m not using your money,” she said with finality.
Tristan growled under his breath. He was too tired to argue with her about this again. They had already had a major blowup before they got married because she had wanted him to have a prenup drawn up. He thought the idea was ludicrous and had explained that whatever was his was hers. He meant that despite her objections.
As far as he was concerned, he owed her, and when he told her that, she had gotten even angrier, claiming he didn’t owe her anything.
Of course, he saw the situation differently. She hadn’t accepted anything when they divorced the last time, and he would’ve given her the world if she’d wanted it. She couldn’t seem to understand that he credited her with him even being able to accomplish his dream of playing in the NFL. Why couldn’t she see that he wanted to share all that he had accomplished and accumulated with her?
“Cree,” he said, but he was too tired to say more.
He was still propped against the edge of her desk, and she stood, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I love you, and I’m so grateful to have you as my husband. I don’t want us to argue but just knowing you have my back means everything to me, Tristan. And don’t worry, I’ll probably eventually spend your money.” She smiled and kissed him. “You just make sure you’re ready to fund any retail therapy I might need after I finish dealing with Warren, okay?”
Tristan pressed his lips to hers for a quick kiss. “All right.”
He didn’t want to argue either, and as long as she knew she could count on him, everything else would work itself out. He just hoped she got the results she wanted after her talk with Warren. Otherwise, Tristan might have to pay the guy a visit himself.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cree paced the length of her office, her feet quiet against the plush carpet. From the moment she arrived at the firm, she debated on whether her plan of confronting Warren was a good one.
What if he wasn’t the person who hired the PI? But each time that thought flashed through her mind, she shot it down. He had to be the one behind all this, and instead of waiting to play defense, she was playing offense.
She stopped near the window and stared out at nothing in particular as she thought about the private investigator. Cree wasn’t sure when he was turning in his report, but she had a feeling it would be soon. Otherwise, the guy probably wouldn’t have shared anything with Milton the other day, but she couldn’t be sure.
What concerned Cree most was not knowing what was in the report. The photos were damning, clearly showing her dating her client, but what else would the PI share?
Sighing, she thought about something else that came up yesterday. She and Tristan had spent part of the day before looking at social media posts of those who had attended her party. There were videos of Tristan playing the piano, and tons of photos that included the two of them together. More importantly, the news was getting around about their marriage.
Maybe they shouldn’t have been so rash in eloping without thinking everything through. But Cree hadn’t been able to help herself. Being in love with Tristan was all-consuming, and it was easy to throw caution to the wind when your man made you feel like all was well in the world.
She soon found out it wasn’t when her parents called before she and Tristan could share the news. To say Virginia was disappointed was an understatement. She dreamed of planning weddings for all her girls, and she told Cree that she robbed her of doing just that. Her mother also insisted Cree’s father was looking forward to one day walking her down the aisle.
Virginia had always been good at laying on the guilt. The only thing that saved the conversation from being too disappointing was when Tristan told both sets of parents that he and Cree were planning a reception for family and their closest friends. That appeased everyone, and the best part was Cree didn’t have to plan it. They immediately hired a wedding planner with specific instructions on what they wanted and didn’t want. The number one item—guests. No more than a hundred.
In the meantime, Cree needed to focus on her career.
Huffing out a cleansing breath, she strolled out of her office. It was time for a face-to-face with Warren. Wearing a double-breasted suit dress that hugged all her curves and stopped just above her knees, Cree felt powerful and in charge. Not only did the outfit catch attention, but it made her feel like the badass Tristan claimed her to be.
As she approached Warren’s closed office door, she slowed and mentally thought about everything she needed to say to him. Once she was ready, she gave the door a quick knock, and then she did something he often did, she walked in like she owned the place.
Warren was seated at his desk but stood abruptly, confusion on his face. “Cree. Since when do you barge into my office?”
She closed the door and approached his desk. “Since you decided it was a good idea to have me followed. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out that you hired a private investigator to keep tabs on me?”
Though she didn’t know for sure if Warren was behind this, Cree was taking a gamble. She couldn’t think of anyone else at the firm who would do something like this, and she watched Warren carefully for any signs of deception.
He removed his readers and set them on the desk, giving her a better view of his deep gray unflinching eyes. His salt and pepper, full mane of hair had recently been cut and was as neat as usual. He believed in looking his best, and the expensive three-piece suit, that draped perfectly over his slim build, was a testament to that fact.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and reclaimed his seat. He opened a file folder on his desk and started to look through it.
Seriously?
Cree slammed the folder shut. No way was she going to stand there and be ignored.
Warren shot up out of his desk chair again and glared at her. “Now you wait just one minute! You can’t come into my office and accuse me of anything. I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I think you do!” she snapped, anger hanging on the fringes of her control, especially when she knew for sure he was lying.
