Page 72 of Not Mine to Keep

I was too tired and had had too much to drink to deal with him right now. No response was the best way to handle the prick. So being the bigger person, I ignored him and hurried up the stairs, exhaustion setting in hard and fast with every step closer to my bedroom—a room I’d never shared overnight with a woman until now.

Testing the handle and finding it locked, I reached into my pocket for my keys. I’d had a deadbolt installed today, not a fan of Armani’s men having access to my wife. At least she had the good sense to lock the door.

Once inside the room, I kicked off my shoes and gave myself a few seconds to adjust to the darkness so I didn’t trip over anything and wake her.

I had every intention of setting the little blue bag on the nightstand without a word, but she caught me mid-act placing it there. She turned on the lamp, and I let go of the ring bag and took a few uncomfortable steps back.

“What’s this?” She sat upright, wearing a pink nightshirt from the looks of it, and I had no clue whether she had on bottoms, too.

“It’d be strange if my wife didn’t have a diamond. I thought of everything but that before we arrived.” I’d spent almost two hours in that store tonight, wavering on which ring to buy, now knowing way more about diamonds than I ever wanted or needed to.

“Oh.” She removed the box from the bag, and I swallowed, oddly nervous whether she’d like it. I’d wanted to buy her the biggest rock there, but her “you can’t buy everything” comment earlier had me going with a simple solitaire with small diamonds on each side instead.

The smile from her as she slipped on the too-big-for-her-finger ring did something funny to my chest. “This is ... well, perfect.”

“Don’t worry, my assistant picked it out,” I said as fast as possible before she got angry at me again, like she had with the guitar. “Nothing sentimental about the ring.”

“Good. Um, great.”

Such a little liar.Just like me.

“Tell your assistant they have great taste.”

“Sure.” I was ready to get this conversation over with and sleep before I lost my head and asked her to scoot over, to let me sleep on my side of the bed she was currently occupying.

“Well, thank you. I’ll need it sized.” And yet, she didn’t take it off, just fiddled with it on her finger.

I pushed out in a nonchalant tone, “You’re welcome. It, uh, was nothing.”

Still fidgeting with the diamond ring, she asked, “How’d the board meeting go? Your family business okay? Will you survive the fallout?”

“Fine.” Not really. But we’d done our best to keep people’s heads from exploding. “Are things okay on your end with damage control?”Did you talk to Braden?

“I need another day or two before I make any calls. Just sent a few texts. Tested the waters with my aunt via email. She only gave me an update on her location along with a few photos, seemingly oblivious to this hell, which is good news.”

Speaking of ...“I have more good news.”

She let her hand fall to her lap atop the gray duvet, attention shooting to me.

I had to pocket my hands so I wouldn’t reach for her. Or ask her to let me finger fuck her again. “We’re getting divorced much sooner than expected. Right after our birthday.”

The littleohsound she made that could’ve been confused for disappointment wasn’t lost on me. “I forgot your birthday is on the twenty-first, too. I saw that in my search, but I got distracted by photos of you and ...”

Other women.I never gave a damn about my reputation. Until now. Until Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey blew into my life like a storm, setting everything off course in my perfect world that was probably far from ever being perfect.

“Wait, that’s soon. Today’s May twenty-ninth, right?” Her being twenty-nine and counting on her fingers fucking killed me. Too cute. Too innocent. Tooeverythingfor me. “That’s in twenty-three days.” The bedding went to the wayside as she stood, revealing she had nothing on under that pink nightshirt that went to midthigh.

“Told you, good news.” Mindlessly, I began unbuttoning my dress shirt and went over to the couch, discovering she’d already turned it down into a bed and had the sheets and blanket prepped for me.

“How? I mean, um, does that mean you’re killing my father in three and a half weeks?”

My fingers went still on the buttons at her words, and I slowly faced her, my arms falling to my sides. “You called him your father. You—”

“Shit.” She blinked as if surprised herself. “It’s just a lot to take in. Helping murder someone. A man who gave me life. Even if I hate him for his very existence.”

I went back over to her, worried there was about to be a major disconnect and problem with the plan. Searching for her gaze, I waited until she gave me her eyes. Instead, she chewed on her already short thumbnail—not one of her nervous habits I’d yet to witness. No, this was doubt infiltrating her mind.

She freed her thumbnail from between her teeth to ask, “How will you kill him?”

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