No. I swear I'd find a way to unlive myself.
"Are you... are you talking about us?" I stammer, walking to the kitchen.
"What?" he barks, and his eyes narrow on me. "What are you talking about?"
"What... what areyoutalking about?" I try to sound neutral.
He studies me for a beat.
Then something vital in him gives out right before my eyes. "We're fucked, that's what I mean."
I blink, the word landing like shrapnel.
Richard never swears. Not like this. Not unless the world is actually ending.
I take a step closer. "What?"
He paces around the kitchen island, fighting with his tie, almost strangling himself. "Fifteen million. Gone. Fifteen fucking million. And it's not just the money. This could—" He drags a hand down his face. "This could ruin everything. Licenses. Lawsuits.Fuck, fuck, fuck—prison." He kicks the barstool.
My eyes shoot wide. "Did you just sayprison?"
"Yeah, I said fucking prison," he hisses.
I shake my head. Richard can't be behind bars; his face belongs in boardrooms and financial magazines.
"Richard, what the hell is going on?"
"Piper," he spits and drops onto the barstool he kicked. "That bastard set me up. Outplayed me..."
"What? How?"
His voice fades, eyes locked on some invisible guillotine in the distance. "Now there's nothing I can do. Not without losing everything."
I hover beside him before my hand settles between his shoulder blades. He's so tense, it feels like holding a live current.
"Set you up how?"
His elbows hit the counter as he buries his face in his palms. "Doesn't matter."
"Richard, you better tell me what happened—now!"
"Don't worry about it. I just need to cool down. John and Lewis—his partners—owe me. And before I rot in hell—" He straightens and his eyes turn lethal. "I'll skin him alive."
Chills spike along my spine because I'm no longer looking at my husband, but something glacial—corporate carnage Richard, who builds empires and buries enemies.
I've seen it before and it has always scared me because I don't know where the edge is.
"Have you done something illegal?" I ask with caution.
His head snaps at me. "Doesn't matter."
"It does matter!" I can't help but scream. "You never tell meanything! And now you're talking about going to prison!"
"I don't tell you because I don't want to burden you!" His voice rises too, as if he's offended. "Because you wouldn't understand. So don't ask questions—just be a wife and support me."
His hand finds mine as if that settles it, and he even softens in his face.
"I want to support you, but you have to tell me what's going on," I say.
