No. He’d needed to teach her what it meant to step out on his arm.
It was a pity, really. She was an incredibly talented artist, but she’d let it consume her. Her art meant more to her than he did. He couldn’t tolerate that. He needed to be in control, and if she had her art, he didn’t have control of her.
So, it had to go. All of it.
He pulled his Lexus LC into the garage, noting Jessica’s silvery-blue Infiniti Q50 in its usual spot.Good, she’s home.
He hated to think about who might have seen her if she’d gone out.
Patrick had left her bruised enough that if she ran into someone she knew, they would ask questions. In fact, he may have come down a little too hard on her, but when she’d confronted him about Tina, he’d snapped.
He’d been under an immense amount of stress since taking this job in Seattle, and he’d relied heavily on Jessica playing the part he needed her to play—the quiet, doting housewife. Like his mom always did. If Patrick could make good at this brokerage firm, maybe he’d finally make his father proud.
He didn’t enjoy putting Jessica in her place, but sometimes she needed a reminder that he was in charge. She should have known better than to question him about where he was going and who he’d be with.
He parked his car and walked into the house after grabbing his duffel bag and the dozen roses he’d bought as a peace offering. He’d treat Jessica like a queen for the next few days to make up for his outburst.
“I’m home,” he called as he hung his keys on the hook beside Jessica’s.
Silence.
“Jessica!” he called through a clenched jaw.
Still no response.
He tossed the roses on the counter. So much for treating her like a queen.
Flipping on lights, he walked through the house, ending in the master bedroom. He dropped his duffel bag on the perfectly made bed.
“Don’t play games with me, Jessica! Where are you?” His muscles tensed as heat radiated through his body.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked Jessica’s location. It showed her at home, as she’d been all weekend. He called her cell.
Jessica’s ring tone echoed from the kitchen. Following the sound, he spotted it on the counter.
His stomach plummeted as if pulled down by a led weight.
Jessica was gone, and she’d left her car and cell phone behind so he couldn’t find her.
Heat coursed through his veins. Cursing, he picked up her phone and flung it across the room.
It struck a cabinet, fell to the granite countertop, then clattered to the tile floor.
Jessica would pay for making him do that.
He darted back to the master bedroom and stepped into the closet.
“Where is she?” he shouted at the rhinestone stilettos he’d given her for her birthday last week.
He turned in a circle, examining her clothes. Very little was missing, but a gaping spot in the corner mocked him. Two suitcases were missing. Cursing, he kicked the remaining carry-on suitcase.
He walked back into the bedroom, where a glint of light from the top of the dresser caught his eye. He stepped closer.
Jessica’s wedding rings.
His shoulders bunched from the waves of fury coursing through his body. “So help me, Jess—”
He jumped at the ringing of the doorbell.
