Page 6 of Midnight Whispers

His jaw clenches, and I’m happy I struck a nerve. “Watch it, that’s my wife.”

He’s right. Anabelle would never do anything to hurt Asher. Their love is true. But I’d thought mine was, too.

“Just admit you’re the one who sent me this. You’re always interfering and acting like you need to protect all of us, but you go that extra mile for me.”

“It seems in this case I was right.”

My fists clench, and I take deep breaths not to lunge across the desk. “Just wanted to let you know that your message has been received, and there will be no wedding.”

I spin on my heel and cross the room, afraid that if I stick around any longer, we’ll come to blows.

“Nero.”

I stop but don’t turn around.

“I’m sorry.”

I open the door and slam it shut behind me. He can shove his sorry up his ass.

The minute I reach my room, I text Maude and tell her I’ll meet her at her family estate this evening. She asks if everything is okay, but I don’t answer. It will do her good to be anxious about why I might be pissed.

I arrive at Maude’s family estate and get out of my car, stretching my fingers to ease the ache from how tightly I was gripping the steering wheel.

I knock on the door, and seconds later, she answers. Her red hair flows down her shoulders. Once I looked at her and felt only love. Now my eyes struggle to stay on her. As I’ve done all my life, I keep my expression neutral as she ushers me inside.

“How are you?” She leans in for a kiss, and I give her my cheek. She pulls back, her face contorted with confusion. “Is everything okay?”

“Where can we talk?”

Maude studies me and gestures to her left. “The parlor.”

Once we’re inside, I wait for her to take a seat first and take the one directly across from her. She notices the slight, her body stiffening when I don’t sit beside her.

“Nero, what’s going on?” She clasps her hands in her lap as though she’s some pious woman. What a fucking joke.

“How are you feeling about the wedding?” I ask.

Her shoulders lose some of the tension, easing into the couch cushion. “I’m thrilled. A little stressed about everything being perfect, but I get to marry the love of my life. What isn’t there to be excited about?”

A caustic laugh erupts from my throat, and her smile dies. I’m not sure she’s ever heard that sound from me—we’ve rarely gotten into fights since we started dating.

“If I’m the love of your life…” I reach into the inside pocket of my suit, pull out the picture, and unfold it. “Then who is this?” I place it on the table between us.

She glances down, eyes narrowing as if she doesn’t recognize herself, the man, or the bed. Finally, her face pales a ghostly white. “I… I…” She looks up from the picture and back down and up again as if she’s stalling to make some excuses as to why she’s sleeping around. “Where did you get this?”

I arch an eyebrow. “That’s the question you’re going to ask?”

Her back straightens, her shoulders square, as if she’s offended I would bring this to her. “The picture is old.” She bolts off the couch, choosing anger over getting caught rather than regret.

A cold smirk forms on my lips. “I looked at the metadata.”

Her eyes search, and her body fidgets. “It not true. I swear.”

She rushes around the table to sit beside me, taking my hand and clutching it between her modest breasts. It’s insulting that she’s suggesting someone could pull one over on me. There’s a reason I’m in charge of anything to do with computers and digital security for Voss Enterprises. I’m the fucking expert.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t look into it? The photo hasn’t been tampered with. Neither has the metadata. This was taken the night you told me you were working late and had wedding prep to do. I didn’t realize that meant spreading your legs for someone else.”

She studies my face and seems to realize she’s cornered, but her desperation won’t let her give up. She decides to try a different angle. “I can explain. It was a one-time thing. He’s?—”

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