Page 46 of Heathen

"Kaylee," Morgan says, her tone full of warning.

"I don't know."

"Kaylee," she repeats.

"I'll have to ask my husband," I mutter.

"That sounds so weird," she says, despite the wide smile on her face.

"Tell me about it."

"Tell me more about him," she urges.

"What is there to say? He's handsome."

"Hotter than the sun, you said."

"He's cocky, and he flirts relentlessly. I think he'd be a better fit for you."

"Send him my way," she teases, and it strikes a chord with me, making my chest tighten with some unnamed emotion.

"I wouldn't wish his annoying self on anyone else. He's—"

"Is that him?"

I freeze when I see a man approaching.

"No," I say. "I'll talk to you soon."

I end the call and spin on the bench to watch the man approach. Although just as handsome as Ellis, he's definitely not my husband.

Chapter 19

Heathen

Keeping my distance lasted all of an hour and a half, and that time was spent going over new information that Rooster was able to find on DimaTkachenko. The second I had all of it committed to memory, thoughts of her rushed in again.

Rooster laughed like he knew what I was thinking when I excused myself and started to leave the conference room.

I didn't find her in the bedroom, and I spent ten minutes looking for her. It wasn't until I went to the basement and passed an open window, the sound of her laughter filling my ears, that I discovered where she was.

I have no idea why I feel like a raging bull stuck dead center among a room full of breakable things when I see her head thrown back, her smiling face looking up at the stars, as she laughs at some fucking thing Bandera has said to her.

She's not in the pool, but that didn't stop him from jumping in and resting his muscular arms on the edge as they spoke.

I haven't felt jealousy like I feel right now in a very long time, since middle school if memory serves me correctly, but the girl in question is my wife, not the head cheerleader who wouldn't give me the time of day.

A million questions eat away at me as I open the basement door and step outside, but the one that keeps ringing in my ears as I approach them is if I even have a right to be angry in the first place. Our marriage isn't real. Our vows weren't real. Is she the type of person who would see the fake commitment as something that should prevent her from flirting with someone else? Is she even flirting with him?

"Speak of the devil," Bandera says, his smile unfazed as I walk up to them.

"I'm dying to know what you've been saying about me," I mutter, not missing when the two of them look at each other as if co-conspirators in a plan for world domination or something.

I hate the ease and camaraderie they already seem to have with each other, especially considering that the woman hated me on sight. I'm not a hundred percent sure that she still doesn't.

She smiles at me, not a hint of guilt in her eyes, but that could easily mean she doesn't see what she's doing as wrong.

"Do you not like to swim?" I ask, pointing to the water instead of raging like a jealous husband.

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