Page 25 of Mistletoe Missus
“Because I told him,” Mitt answered before I could finish the sentence, and he glared at me from the end of the table.
I stared right back.
“It was all part of the plan,” Cyprus said.
Mitt broke eye contact with me and glanced down at his plate. His food was left untouched as he played with his eggs and reminded me of a child scolded by a parent. Only we weren’t playing house, and this was our lives.
“Mitt? What is Cyprus talking about?” I asked as my fork clattered against my plate from my trembling hand and I droppped it.
Mitt let out a huff and pushed back his chair. The feet of his seat scraped against the floor. I watched him walk toward me at a painstakingly slow pace, but I wanted to jump out of my seat and launch myself at him—take his jacket collar and shake any sort of common sense into him. Instead, I sat there and waited for him to reach my side. My nostrils flared while he petted my hair and made the anger resurface. I wasn’t some stupid cat who needed taming. I was his wife. But the rage left when he grazed my cheek and desire took its place. I closed my eyes as the fiery pit in my belly swirled, and I remembered the way Mitt made me feel. The sensations I longed to have with him once again and put all of this behind us.
Mitt leaned down and whispered, “I needed a wife.”
My eyes snapped open.
“Why?” I asked as my breath hitched.
I realized I should’ve discussed this with him while we were under the mistletoe. The memory of when Mitt had asked me to be his wife surfaced, but I thought I’d only spoil the moment. I was desperate, and desperation made a woman do stupid things.
“Because it made for good business, angel.” Mitt shrugged.
I pulled back and glared at him. “So, this was all about your company? Nothing more?”
Mitt roughly grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me back toward him. Startled, I realized I couldn’t escape the wild eyes of a man dead set on making me understand the reality ofour arrangement. It wasn’t until then that I saw the same glare of madness his father held. Mitt had kept this side of himself concealed from me.
“Nothing more,” he answered with certainty. “You mean nothing to me, Tinsley. This is strictly business.”
“Let go of me!” I glared and pushed my chair backward until he released me. “I think I’m done with breakfast.”
Mitt blazed at my defiance. “But you haven’t eaten, angel. Have a bite.”
“No.” I glared back and turned away. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”
“But, Wife, don’t you want to hear the rest of our deal?”
I stopped in my tracks and turned around with my arms raised. “What deal? I never agreed to any of this!”
“Yes, you did, Wife,” Mitt replied as he stepped closer and pointed at me. “As soon as you signed the marriage license. So fucking desperate to become my wife, and we both came out winners.”
“Winners?” I rushed toward him and pointed my index finger into his chest. “You won nothing because now you’ve lost me. I want a divorce.”
“If you do that, you’ll lose everything. We’ll take your company, ruin your life, and drag your name through the mud, so nobody will want to do business with you ever again,” Cyprus threatened.
Tears burned my eyes as I met Mitt’s gaze and asked, “Is this true?”
Mitt swallowed hard. There wasn’t an inch of remorse shown in his hazel eyes I once thought were genuine. His stare was only as dark as his father’s.
“Yes.”
I stormed out of the room and didn’t glance back.
THIRTEEN
Chilled Restrain
Mitt
The smell of her perfume nipped at my nose with her fast departure, and I watched her walk away. Tinsley fumed with anger, as I knew she would when she discovered the truth, but I never expected the tears in her eyes to formulate an ache. A throbbing pain inside of me I never knew was there until I met her. Damn my new defiant wife.
