Page 27 of Bitter Secrets

“What is it?”

She clutched the phone in a death grip as she began to shake. “I can’t believe you brought me back here.”

A pause and then, “I just started my meeting. Let me—”

“Johan won’t let me go to a hotel without your consent. Just say I can go, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he snapped.

“I’m not staying here!”

“Yes, you are,” he said and hung up.

She stood there for several seconds with the phone to her ear, listening to the empty silence on the other end as her insides withered. It took extreme self-discipline to hand the phone over instead of stomping it beneath her boot.

“Is there anything I can do?” Johan asked.

“No,” she whispered.

“You have my number if you need anything.”

He watched her warily as he typed in the elevator code. Her hands balled into fists as the doors closed, leaving her all alone.

Some days, I wish I never laid eyes on you.

The echo of his words seared her soul. Even five years later, the damage he inflicted that night still had the power to bring her to her knees. When her breath hitched, she clenched her teeth. No, no,no. She wasn’t going to let him do this to her. Even as her eyes stung with tears, she turned and strode back to the living room. The rain suited her dark mood. She gripped the back of the couch as she had all those years ago and let one of the worst nights of her life play out in vivid detail.

He'd kissed her as if he wanted to consume her and, in the next hour, brought her back to the place where he told her she meant nothing to him. He could have put her anywhere in the city, but he chose to bring her here. Why? To remind her of their past? To make her feel small, inferior, helpless? Mission accomplished. That night, he treated her like an object, a thing he could put on a shelf and retrieve only when he had need of it. He didn’t care that she’d come all that way, that he hadn’t seen her in months. He saw her as an unwelcome nuisance and dismissed her as her father had all her life. Her family couldn’t convince her that Roth was using her, but that night, he told her in no uncertain terms what mattered to him, and it wasn’t her. His ambition overshadowed everything else, and she was in the way.

“I don’t know if this is worth it.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eye before she set her shoulders back. Roth may have destroyed her that night, but he also freed her. That night forced her to step out from under her father and husband’s shadows and become her own person. She pursued her own dreams instead of trying to be part of his and constantly coming up short. Because of him, she became a writer, repaired her relationship with her father, and had those last years with him. She was no longer a lovesick girl who would blindly follow or trust him to take care of her. This time, her eyes were wide open. There were no illusions left to shatter. Absently, she rubbed her aching chest and tried to will away the pain that had never quite faded. Although her mind accepted that everything worked out for the better, her heart wasn’t so understanding.

With her hands balled into fists in her pockets, she explored. She passed several rooms prepared for guests who would never arrive. The master suite felt as impersonal as the other rooms. If it wasn’t for the books in the living area, she would think this was a model home, but… She spotted a watch on the nightstand. She stared at it for a long moment, then wandered to the closet. Roth’s cologne hung in the air. This closet was nearly identical to the one at Park Avenue, but unlike his monochromatic wardrobe in New York, this one had quite a few colorful and fashionable pieces she couldn’t imagine him wearing. The double-breasted cashmere overcoat was divine, but not Roth. Neither were the tuxedos, three-piece Italian suits, or colorful collection of silk ties.

She glanced at the opposite side of the closet, which was empty, but… Maybe he had a live-in lover who tried to improve his wardrobe? She wouldn’t be surprised. She knew better than anyone that he had a voracious appetite. What had his life been like after the divorce? Did he indulge in affairs, have serious relationships, or a fling every other weekend? Or, had he had them all along?

She stepped back as if that would stop her mind from traveling down that dangerous road, but it was no use. She fetched her bag, heels clipping smartly as she tried to keep her mind from going haywire. When she reached the master suite, she tossed her suitcase on the bed with enough force that it bounced before she headed into the bathroom. Even as she told herself she didn’t care, she found herself searching for signs that a woman had occupied this space. The double vanity was as bare as the rest of the penthouse aside from a toothbrush, razor, and comb. By her estimation, Roth had lived here at least five years, maybe longer, yet he had little to no personal effects. Maybe he didn’t allow live-in lovers? She was disgusted by the surge of relief and disappointment. She wasn’t sure what was worse—finding evidence of another woman or being taunted by an invisible one.

She stripped and stepped into the shower, which consisted of two black, glossy walls and a solid wall of glass. There was no door. Her feet slid over black stone. As water rained down, she imagined it washing away her doubts, old hurts, and fears.

He had unlimited access to her thoughts and experiences, while she knew nothing of his life before and after her. Not only had she confessed her deepest desires to him when they were married, she had also documented her life in excruciating detail in her books after she left him. She didn’t know how much of what she knew of him was real. Even after she graduated from college, he insisted they live apart. He claimed it was because he traveled so much, but she suspected it was because he never intended for them to truly live as husband and wife. He put her in one area of his life so he could do what he wanted in another. Why wouldn’t that include other women? He denied that he cheated on her when they were married, but she didn’t believe him. What married man got a vasectomy without mentioning it to his wife? The cheating kind who didn’t want to get his mistresses or his convenient wife pregnant.

You should have told me you were coming. I would have told you not to bother. I’m busy.

She flinched. Soon, the novelty of having her under his thumb would wane. For now, she was a toy, an interesting diversion, but he would tire of her and go back to working around the clock. Time would fly by, and that quickly, her year would be up. This time, she had money in the bank, a career, and family. She wouldn’t be starting from scratch or trying to put herself back together like she had the first time.

She picked up the only shampoo in the shower, which was clearly Roth’s. The teal liquid smelled pleasantly masculine. There was no conditioner. She tried to keep her mind blank, but bits of the past snuck past her defenses and speared her in the gut. Memories of her begging him to come home flashed through her mind. What a needy wife she’d been. No wonder he didn’t want her around. Maybe if she went back to being co-dependent and clingy, he’d get rid of her sooner.

She snorted as she stepped out of the shower and snagged two towels. She wrapped her dripping hair, then made her way into the bedroom, absently tying the towel before she spotted a figure standing in the open doorway.

CHAPTER4

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

She gave Roth a plastic smile. “I’m not suicidal, just disillusioned. You can go now.”

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