He pinched his lips together, as if deep in thought. Then he smirked, bringing his hands to cup my breasts. “A killer rack. And you’ve definitely got one.”
I playfully swatted him away, rolling my eyes as I returned to stir the chicken mixture.
“Men. You’re all the same,” I joked. “I’ve never understood the fascination with boobs.”
“It’s because you have them.”
“I don’t have a pair of balls and yet I’m not obsessed with yours.”
He stepped behind me again, his palm sliding down my side and settling on my hip. “I can’t tell you how damn happy I am that you don’t have a pair.” He curved toward me as his hand drifted lower. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”
“About what?” I glanced over my shoulder. “You want me to have a pair of balls?”
“Absolutely not,” he answered quickly. “About being a boob man.” His mouth hovered a breath away from mine. “I think I’m much more of an ass man.”
He landed a sharp smack against my backside, and I gasped, half surprised, half breathless. Then he increased the distance between us, opening the cupboard and grabbing plates, leaving me flushed and wanting.
Like always.
After a few final stirs of the chicken, I dished everything out, and Henry carried our plates toward the dining room.
A gentle breeze blew through the curtains of the open French doors, carrying with it the comforting aroma of flowers and fresh-cut grass. In the distance, the moon glimmered on the darkened water just beyond his beautifully manicured lawn.
It was a gorgeous house, but it didn’t suit Henry.
It didn’t suit me either, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the farm in Georgia. To all the space. The smell of raw earth and even manure. Watching Cato running through the pasture.
“This is really good,” Henry said around a mouthful of chicken. “Thanks for cooking. You didn’t have to, though.”
“I don’t mind. I used to think cooking was something I had to do, but after being married to Victor, I didn’t realize how much I missed being able to cook for myself. Choose what to eat. When I eat. It still feels…strange.”
Henry reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze. “That bastard spent years conditioning you to behave a certain way. It’s going to take more than a few days to undo everything. Believe me. I went through something similar after my dad died. But you will move past it. One day, you’ll look back and barely recognize the woman you once were. And I’ll be here every step of the way, if that’s what you want.”
“Of course it is.”
“Good.” He treated me to a soft smile before pulling back and scooping more of the chicken onto his fork.
“Have you talked to Blake about what your next step should be?” I asked after a beat, since we were already somewhat on the topic. “About seeing if what Victor said is true and Sarah might still be alive?”
“We discussed it briefly,” he answered nonchalantly.
“And?” I sipped my wine, studying him over the rim of the glass. “Does he have any ideas?”
Henry laughed under his breath. “He’s worried I’ll waste the rest of my life chasing a ghost instead of living in the present.”
“But she’s not just a ghost,” I countered. “If your theory is correct, Victor trafficked over a hundred women. They could still be alive. Sarah could still be alive. He said as much. And while Victor could definitely be a manipulative bastard, I can’t shake the feeling he wasn’t lying.” I paused before continuing, “Should we go to the police with what you know? Not about what happened to Victor, but about what you found? The girls. Schaffer’s files.”
“I’ve thought about it.” He stared into the distance for a long moment before looking back at me. “But I’ve seen how situations like this play out. Especially when powerful people are involved. They’ll do any and everything to protect themselves and each other. Don’t forget. Victor paid off a DA to falsify Sarah’s autopsy report. There’s no telling how many other players are involved. How deep this goes. It’s better if I try to get some answers myself first. Figure out who I can trust.”
I understood his logic.
I lived it.
It was why I never went to the authorities with what Victor had been doing to me. I knew how well connected he was. Knew nothing would get done. That it would do more harm than good. That it would put my life at risk.
So I’d remained silent.
If it weren’t for Henry intervening when he did, I probably would have still been silent.
