Page 111 of Past Due

As he left the bedroom, he made a mental note to take Marley to the bank in the morning to get her added to all of the accounts so she would have her own cards and access to money without having to ask. Considering how well she budgeted her meager wages from the pawn shop, he wasn’t the least bit worried about her going wild and spending every dime he had. If anything, he suspected he would have to force her to spend money on herself every now and then.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he retrieved it, swiping to answer. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Kostya greeted. “I had a look around your wife’s place. That’s a smell that’s going to be impossible to get out of some of her things.”

He had asked Kostya to handle cleaning out Marley’s place once the police cleared the scene. There was no way in hell he was letting Marley step one foot into that horror show to get her things. As far as he was concerned, it should be razed, burned and thrown into the nearest dump.

“What about her books? Her clothing? Things that are special to her?” Besian asked, lingering in the hall outside the bedroom.

“Well, the body wasn’t soupy yet so the smell didn’t get as far and invade all the soft, pretty things she owns,” Kostya remarked with stomach churning descriptors. “I have some tricks we can try if the smell is in the paper and bindings. If those don’t work, you’re going to have to make some expensive trips to bookstores.”

“Do whatever you need to get it done.”

“You sure? You could probably replace half that stuff she has for a quarter of what it’s going to cost me to clean it.”

“I’m sure.” Money wasn’t the issue. Those things mattered to Marley, and he would do everything he could to save them for her. She had lost enough, and he wasn’t about to stand by and let her the things she loved when he could do something about it.

He pocketed his phone and made his way to the open living area of the penthouse. The high ceilings and unobstructed view from the fireplace in the sitting area to the spacious kitchen were the reason he had bought the place. Hovering at the edge of the living room, he took in the piles of opened presents and the bits of wrapping paper and ribbon. He thought he saw something black and lacy peeking out of one of the boxes. That would have to be investigated later.

Across the wide expanse, he caught Marley watching him over the rim of her wine glass. She stood at the marble island, surrounded by her friends, and he was struck by how absolutely perfect she looked there. She still called it his house, but soon enough, she would call it theirs. She belonged here in this incredible space, their space.

“Looking sharp, Besian,” Aston called out from her perch on one of counter stools. She had a giant margarita glass filled with something slushy and bright blue. Her lips were already stained the same shade. “It’s virgin,” she said, following his gaze. Then, with a smirk, she added, “Unlike your wife.”

Marley blushed, and her friends twittered like drunken birds at Aston’s joke. He didn’t even want to know how much she had told them about their sex life. Judging by the impressed glance from one of the women he hadn’t met yet, Marley must have said good things.

“Be nice, or I’m turning off your slushy machine,” Marley warned Aston before setting aside her wine glass and walking toward him. “Are you heading out?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a minute to meet my friend Logan? They came after you disappeared to your office.”

“Sure.” He let her take his hand and lead him to the kitchen. Earlier, he had been introduced to two of her friends from high school. Carly was a speech therapist and Hanna was finishing up her pharmacy doctorate. Briana was a Louisiana transplant and NASA engineer. Nicole had been in Marley’s undergrad program and now worked at a real estate group he had helped found. Not that anyone other than Marissa and Alexei knew that, of course.

Before he met Logan, he noticed another familiar face gathered at the kitchen island. Abby, Marley’s boss at the pawn shop, grinned at him. “I’m taking full credit for making this marriage possible. Maybe I’ll add matchmaker to my store window.”

Besian laughed and returned her hug. “You should. Without you, we wouldn’t have ever met.”

“He says like that’s a bad thing,” Nicole muttered before knocking back the rest of her drink.

Carly and Hannah looked shocked at Nicole’s remark, and Briana moved the bottle of wine out of Nicole’s reach. Aston glared daggers at the woman. Besian brushed it off, not wanting to cause a scene or make Marley’s guests uncomfortable.

As if sharing his desire to move on from Nicole’s probably alcohol induced comment, Logan stepped forward. She kept her dark hair very short and wore clothing that was masculine but form fitting and tailored. She had intelligent eyes and a kind smile as she introduced herself. “I’m Logan.”

“Besian,” he said and shook her hand.

“We met the first day of classes at Rice when we were freshman,” Marley explained. “She and I are both in grad school, but she’s in a different program.”

“Oh?”

“English,” Logan said, “with a concentration in gender and sexuality. Specifically, George Sand and Daniel Stern with a little music thrown in on the side. That whole Chopin and Liszt thing.”

“Don’t bother explaining it.” Nicole rudely interjected her unwanted opinion with a noisy scoff. She snatched the wine bottle from Briana’s hand and clanked the neck of it against her empty glass as she sloshed more alcohol into it. “Like he knows anything about Sand or Chopin! All he knows is tits and G-strings.”

“Nicole!” Carly hissed. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No,” Besian said coolly. “It’s fine. She’s allowed to have her opinions.”

“She’s not allowed to be rude,” Logan insisted. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to—”

---