Page 104 of Shark’s Pride

She was unusually quiet as I spoke, turning to watch the city pass by through the car window. Storefronts, speeding cars, and billboards whizzed behind her, but I hardly registered they were there. My only focus was her—and the twenty different ways in which her distressed features changed shape as the car climbed the rise into Universal City.

When we pulled into the circular driveway of the house, she didn’t wait for me or Joel to help her from the car. She threw her door open and got out like the fierce woman she was—and part of me yearned to cheer. Her independence was part of what made her so breathtaking, and the part of me that adored it was pumped about it being so vibrantly intact.

Hell, yeah.

My woman was still in there.

She judiciously avoided me for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I was looking forward to bedtime, when we could finally talk—

Until she announced, just after brushing her teeth, “I’m going to sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight.”

“All right.”

I murmured it while pulling a T-shirt over my head. I didn’t like her call or the avoidance therapy it was enforcing but refused to give her a rise about it. We’d ridden that particular pony to death already today. And if she thought I’d jump onto her bandwagon just for the sake of sleeping with her, she’d be riding in that rig alone. I wasn’t one to beg another for anything. Not even her. Especially when her decision was so clearly made.

“Well, if you change your mind, you’re welcome back in our bed. I love you, and I’m not angry with you. I just want you to know that. I’ll be more than happy to talk this through. I’m here for you, Abbigail. Any time, any day. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Including this. Standing here with my soul in my eyes, my heart on my sleeve—

And a secret in my psyche.

A plan that was going to rip her apart.

Which did what for the goddamned olive branch I was extending? Or my version of one, at least.

“Good night, Sebastian.”

And maybe she already saw through that sham.

Which explained why her reply was only a sorrowful rasp…

With the power to crush my offering like a sad little twig under the weight of a lumberjack’s boot.

Chapter Thirteen

Abbigail

Toss. Turn. Flip. Flop. Breathe. Sigh.

You name it, I did it.

Everything but the verb I was in this bed for. And urgently needed.

Sleep.

My body was completely exhausted, but my mind was at full voltage. The gray matter was bettered only by my nervous system, which felt like a tangle of live wires.

One moment, I thought I had the whole situation figured out. The next, I was mired again in total bewilderment. I considered getting up and grabbing a glass of wine to relax, but when I looked at the clock and calculated the scant two hours left before I had to be up for work, that option was off the table.

And what was I mad about again?

I answered that with a loud laugh.

Because what wasn’t I mad about?

Everything had started out so great. After Sebastian’s presentation, I’d been so proud. My man had enraptured the whole crowd with his soul-filled words—his honest, open story.

And he was all mine. I’d known it with such blazing completion. Bas openly showed me off to everyone. Praised my culinary handiwork. Said he loved me on a routine basis. To the outside world, I had it all—and more.