Page 7 of Hate the One You're With
I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out his angle. Max is pretty unpredictable—sometimes he just likes to fuck with me for the sake of it, and other times he actually has news, but he still enjoys screwing with my head.
“A woman?” I ask, keeping my tone as businesslike as possible, determined not to let him pull any pranks. He’s probably gearing up to tell me some outlandish story, like a one-night stand claiming to have my baby or something equally ridiculous. The ways he can mess with me are endless. “And urgent, huh? I’m sure you took care of it since I was out of town, and it’s all done and over.”
I even go as far as patting his shoulder. “It’s good to know I can count on you when I’m in the middle of a mission. Now that I know Zoe and Emma are doing well and you’re okay, I’m heading to the executive apartment. I’m staying a couple of weeks before heading back to San Diego.”
Not giving him a chance to respond, I start to walk away, confident I’ve dodged whatever trick he had up his sleeve. But then his words stop me cold, like an ice-cold bucket of water being dumped over my head.
“Your wife.” He clears his throat. “It was Emmersyn Langley who called—I’ll text you her information. She claimed it’surgent.”
The word “wife” hangs in the air like a punch I never saw coming, landing squarely in my chest and knocking the wind out of me.
Emmersyn Langley.
Fucking Emmersyn. The one person I thought I’d managed to leave behind, the one loose thread in my otherwise tightly woven life. And now, out of nowhere, she’s back, sending envelopes, calling, and claiming it’s urgent.
What the fuck does she want?
Chapter Four
Caleb
“So,you’re still married to her?” Max teases.
“Send me her number,” I reply, cutting through his teasing with a sharp edge. The last thing I need right now is more jokes.
“Just FYI, people have been running heavy backgrounds on you,” he adds, his tone shifting to something more serious.
I stop in my tracks, turning toface him fully. “And you let them dig up any information?” I ask, my voice laced with annoyance and a growing concern of what the fuck is happening.
“Only a thing here or there,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t want to raise any suspicions.”
I nod, though my mind is racing. “Send me her number,” I repeat, my tone more insistent this time.
Max gives me a mock salute, but I’m already turning on my heel, leaving the room before he can add anything else. My thoughts are spinning as I head down the hallway, my steps quickening with each passing second. The calm I felt earlier is long gone, replaced by a gnawing urgency that I can’t shake.
As soon as I’m out of earshot, I pull out my phone and dial my assistant. The phone rings once, twice, before she picks up.
“Hello, boss,” she answers, her voice professional as always.
“What’s in the envelope from Emmersyn?” I ask, skipping any pleasantries. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of anticipation and dread twisting in my gut. I need to know what she wants, why she’s reaching out now, after all this time.
There’s a brief pause on the other end, and I can almost hear her flipping through papers. “Umm . . . you told me to”—she clears her throat—“destroy it. Anything that woman sends has to go in the shredder without giving it a second thought.”
“Fuck, and you listened to me?” I grind my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. Why would I have said that?
Oh right because if there’s someone in this world who can drive me insane and yet fuck with my head it’s Emmersyn Langley. The less I know about her, the better. “Well, I need toknow what the fuck was in there. Maybe try to figure out if there’s a copy.”
Another pause, longer this time, and I can feel my patience wearing thin. “Give me a second, let me see where I shoved them,” she finally says, and I hear the faint sound of paper tearing. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, the suspense tightening around me like a vice.
“I’m not sure if I should fire you for not listening to me or thank you for keeping them until I was back,” I mutter, my voice edged with frustration.
She chuckles lightly. “Probably give me a raise,” she quips.
“So, what doesshewant?” I ask, my tone growing more growly and brooding with each word.
There’s a brief silence, then, “Is there something you forgot to disclose to me?”
I narrow my eyes, though she can’t see it. “Like?”
