“You’re giving me permission to sleep with your wife?” Even though I voiced the words, I was grateful that in a world full of morons, she’d found a man like him, someone who loved her as much as I did and if I wasn’t mistaken, maybe more. Did I even stand a chance with her?
“I’m permitting you to try your best to get her memory back. I won’t stand in your way, but I won’t let you take advantage of her.” I caught the underlying warning to his words. It was clear as daylight. “Fuck with her emotions and I swear you’ll regret walking into her life,” he confirmed my thoughts. “I suggest you don’t take my threat lightly, I’m a man of my word.” I met his stony stare head-on. While I wasn’t easily intimidated, something about the look in his eyes, told me I’d be wise to take heed. Not that I intended hurting the only woman I’d loved. “There are two conditions, though.” At my raised brow, he continued, “you don’t mention this conversation. You don’t ask her anything about our relationship.”
I found his second condition surprising, seeing as she’d probably question my motives or toss me out on my ass declaring she was a married woman. “I can live with that.” While I never let my guard down easily, I was curious. “Supposing it works, how do I get around the cheating aspect?” His questioning gaze made me shrug. “Would she be willing to cheat on you?” He smirked and I wondered if I was being too optimistic too quickly. The woman hadn’t even given me the time of day, why the fuck would she sleep with me.
“Leave that to me,” he said, pulling my attention. “Just don’t go back to the restaurant for now until I say so.” I waited for him elaborate. He said nothing instead set his glass to the side, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the table. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “What if she doesn’t remember? Or doesn’t take an interest in you? Have you thought about that? You seem to think you’re going to get her into your bed with a charming smile,” he stated, his tone deprecating.
“Well, then I’ll make damn sure she does,” I retorted, not bothering to keep the irritation out of my voice. His eyes hardened at my dare, turning his amber gaze almost black. I had a feeling he wasn’t usually challenged. Yet his smile was slow, almost triumphant and I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to succeed or not. “So, what the fuck would be my next step.” Annoyance heated my words.
He observed me for a second as though contemplating his next share. “A month before I left for Japan, Rika attended a regressive hypnotherapy session.” I frowned. “A patient is hypnotized before the doctor takes them through various scenarios to remember their pasts,” he explained.
“I’m guessing it didn’t work,” I muttered.
“She refused to attend the third session.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stood and leveled me with a scowl. “Trust me, she’s not as easily manipulated as you’d like to think. Once she sets her mind on something, there’s no changing it.”
I’d probably hit a sore point but found the divulgence intriguing. Krisha was a woman I could bend to my will with just a smile. Perhaps memory loss had a stronger effect on her personality than I expected.
He dragged a hand along his jawline gauging my reaction. “My advice. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“What would your response be if our roles were reversed?” I snapped. He was seriously beginning to irk the fuck out of me.
“Simple.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have lost my wife in the first place.”
I scrunched my fists, a second away from letting his face meet their aggression. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” I hissed on a controlled breath.
My words didn’t faze him. “Just remember who needs whom, here.” His tone was eerily calm, further maddening me but I held my anger in check, barely. He continued speaking, “I’ll set up a meeting with you and her doctor. Let him decide the next step for you?” When I didn’t respond, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Take it or leave it. Your choice.”
I forced back the irritation lining my throat. “Thanks.” He was right. I needed him if I intended to get anywhere with Rika.
“I’ll give Dr. Landers a call in the morning.”
I handed him my business card and while I headed out the club, my mind drifted over the last thirty minutes. There was no doubt that nothing would’ve prepared me for Zayne and Tia’s divulgence. My wife was alive. How the fuck that had happened would remain a mystery. More so the knowledge that someone had gone through a lot of trouble to not only kidnap her but had gone to such lengths to ensure she’d meet her demise. Why not take her life at the hospital instead?
Yet, even though fate intervened and kept her alive, she remembered nothing. Not me, not us as a couple, our marriage, her pregnancy, her father, and everything else we’d shared. When I slid behind the wheel, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I gave in to the tears that had threatened the second Zayne began. I was a grown-ass man, but I didn’t care. She was the love of my life. Pain gutted me like a knife at the thought of what she must've gone through at the hands of a depraved fuck. Of how she’d missed out on seven years of her children’s lives. I shoved my hands in my hair and leaned back in the seat wondering how I could right a wrong, how I could let her know she was loved.
The abrupt ringing of my phone had me reaching inside my jacket pocket. Wiping the tears after a quick swallow, I answered, “Uncle Drake,” the formality slipped out before I could stop myself.
“Jesus, Trent, what the fucks going on. First, your message that made no sense, and now this. You haven’t called me uncle in forever,” Rayden’s father snorted over the line. He was right. The last time I’d called him uncle was on my wedding day. As the man I’d looked to for fatherly advice, he’d subsequently labeled me a man and said I was to call him by his name. “I’ve been out of the country. Landed last night and got your message. You up for that drink now?” He pulled me out of my musing.
“Yeah, sure. The usual in thirty.” He agreed and I shot down the street a second after the engine roared to life.
Thirty minutes later, I walked into The Red Rum bar on Fifth Avenue. It was around the corner from Drake’s apartment and our usual meeting place whenever we were both in the city. He stood as I approached a table at the back.
Gripping my hand in a firm shake, he took one look at my face and shook his head. “You look like shit.”
“Given what I’ve been through in the last couple of days, I’m not surprised.” I managed a grin and dropped into a chair opposite him.
Fifteen minutes and two neat whiskeys later, he observed me over his glass like I’d just told him I was considering checking myself into a mental institute.
“You have no idea what it felt like watching her, Drake. Silently begging, hoping, praying that for just a second she’d recognize me. Not look right through me likeIwas the fucking ghost.” I balled my fists to keep from hitting the table as anger poured through me, fueling my desperation. “After what Zayne told me tonight, the only thing I want is to see her, to hold her in my arms and tell her how much I love her, that I’d never forgotten her...” I trailed off as my insides churned, similar to the battering of an aggressive hurricane. Clammy fingers of fear gripped my heart, refusing to let go, tearing into my lungs, squeezing tight. I struggled to breathe. My head spun. “What the fuck is happening?” My body shook. I clenched my teeth, shutting my eyes tight as everything around me blurred to watery shadows and an echo of distant sounds.
“Trent!” Drake’s harsh whisper cut through the fog of anxiety stealing my thought processes. “Deep breaths, son, you’re having a panic attack. Forcing air into my lungs, I blinked rapidly trying to focus on his hand grasping my arm in a vice-grip before meeting his gaze. Concern masked his expression. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Too fucking long.” I shook my head trying to remember when I’d last slept without being haunted by visions of my wife’s face.
“Here, drink this.” He pushed a glass of orange juice I’d no idea he’d ordered, toward me. Gray eyes filled with the usual fatherly tenderness he’d always lavished on me searched my face and I was suddenly grateful he was around, thankful for his maturity and guidance. If there was anyone who’d know how to handle this situation and calm me the fuck down, it would be him.
“Thanks.” I downed the drink, enjoying the bitter freshness sliding down my throat, and set the glass on the table, and stared at pulp remnants at the bottom. “I’m a grown-ass man, a father of two kids for Christ's sake, I should be handling this better.” I glanced up at my uncle.
