Page 38 of The Billionaire's Wife

“Why?” I should have stopped the word before it escaped.

“You know that answer.” Tristan held my gaze for a moment before he looked away.

I wanted to object that no, I didn’t. But maybe I did. At least I knew what Tristan had told me a week ago. Had it only been a week? He thought he loved me. Maybe he did. I shouldn’t qualify it when he hadn’t, but I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of love, so how was I supposed to judge?

I cleared my throat. “You still don’t have to do this. You keep saving me from my messes. That’s not your job.”

“But it is. You’re my wife. I should never have let you leave in the first place. I should have chased you, convinced you to come back.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t know where I was.”

“Not at first. But when I looked—really looked—I found you. I kept tabs. Off and on.” His face reddened. “I convinced myself that leaving you alone was the right decision. But I think that was just my hurt speaking.”

“I wish you’d reached out.”

Tristan shrugged.

It was as good a response as any, really. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not as if I reached out to you.”

He offered a tight smile. “I’ve always been a lot easier to find.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved it off. “I wasn’t looking for apologies.”

“What were—” I broke off when the door opened.

Special Agent Orbison entered, followed by a man who, frankly, looked homeless. “Sorry about that. This is Special Agent Blake. He’s been under for a while, trying to get absorbed into the Ortega cartel in some capacity. While he hasn’t been blown, they’re also not biting.”

Blake nodded once and leaned against the wall.

I swallowed. “So why is he here?”

“I have an idea. One that will allow Tristan to be involved as well without—hopefully—looking fishy. The Ortegas have plenty of legal representation, but I’ve also never seen them turn it aside. Particularly when the attorney in question has a squeaky-clean reputation. Or mostly squeaky-clean. You did a divorce case this summer that blurred some lines.”

Tristan flinched. “That was a favor that I couldn’t get out of.”

Orbison nodded. “And that’s exactly how the Ortegas try to lure people in.”

“He was connected to them?” Tristan straightened. “I didn’t see any of that when I was doing a deep background.”

“It’s tangential. You wouldn’t find it if you didn’t know already. I don’t think they’ll be coming to you trying to muscle you into doing more work for them, if that’s what you’re worried about. But it gives us a little bit of leeway in setting it up for you to represent Blake in a shadier deal. And it lends credence to why Faith here sought you out.” Orbison tented his fingers. “Why don’t I run through what I’m thinking?”

Two hours later, as Tristan and I walked back out to his car, I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around everything that had been said. It was…a lot.

Tristan paused beside the passenger door and opened it for me.

“Thanks.” I started to sit and glanced up at him as he stood there. My heart did a slow roll in my chest. “Do you think this will work?”

Tristan hesitated. “I honestly don’t know. But I hope so.”

With that, he waited until I was completely in the car and then closed the door. It wasn’t the reassurance I needed. But it also wasn’t false hope. I had to appreciate that, didn’t I?

We drove back toward the highway and I pointed to a fast-food restaurant. “Should we stop and get something?”

“I could eat.” Tristan flashed me a grin before shifting lanes so he could make the turn. “And I guess it plays into the idea that we’ve been out shopping or something.”

“Right. That, too.” Ugh. I didn’t love having to second guess every move. It was one of the big reasons I’d run. The first time and every time since. Life was easier when I could pretend there was nothing wrong and no one was looking for me.

---