Page 105 of Desperate Actions

I know she has them.

I can feel the weight of them pressing against her lips, locked behind her teeth.

But I don’t push.

I let her sit with it.

She’s entitled to her space, and I want her to come to me when she’s ready.

But fuck, I won’t lie—it’s killing me.

Because Aella is my wife.

And I need to fix whatever is spinning around in that beautiful head of hers before it morphs into something that builds a wall between us.

By the time we get home, it’s after ten, and Christ, I’m exhausted.

Angel Fury is worse than a goddamn military inquisition.

After Dad dropped the bomb that I was the one who broughtReadEaseto the table, Angel latched onto me like a pit bull with a bone, firing off question after question, demanding to know exactly who I am, how I make my money, how I plan to provide for his daughter.

I told him everything he wanted to know.

Even agreed to send over my financial portfolio because I know—I know—he’s just looking out for Aella.

And I can’t fault him for that.

Aella is his only child.

But to me?

To me, she is everything. And I’d gladly sign over everything I have to her if that’s what it took to keep her with me.

But she’s not mercenary. No more than anyone else. I doubt she thinks about money very much at all.

Just the privilege of being born to wealthy and powerful people. But she’s so much more than what her parents gave her.

Aella is everything good and right with the world.

She disappears into the bathroom as soon as we get upstairs, and a second later, I hear the shower start.

My jaw clenches.

I should give her space. Let her process.

But I’m too wound up, too tense, so I head downstairs, pouring two tumblers of Neat from my private collection, trying to get my thoughts together.

When I return to our bedroom, the shower is off.

I step inside and freeze.

Aella is sitting at the vanity, her towel pooled around her hips, her skin dewy from the shower.

She’s running lotion over her arms, over her soft, lush curves, completely unaware of the way she’s killing me.

Her eyes find mine in the mirror, and she stiffens, like she wasn’t expecting me to just walk in.

But that’s ridiculous.

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