Page 26 of Mistletoe Missus
Out of something one would call instinct, my legs moved in her direction, but a hand reached out in front of me. “Let her go, Son.”
What the fuck was I doing?
This wasn’t part of the plan, caring about her feelings when the endgame was clear. I’d hold all the power because affection only made me fragile. Weakness was for pussies, and my father wouldn’t have me labeled as a flawed man. I had to stay on top and maintain the power my father always claimed I had.
In his eyes, love was for the weak and money prevailed. Long ago, cigarette burns scarred my skin to prove that point. I knew my father better than anyone. Cyprus Morgan was a powerful man and dangerous as could be.
So, Tinsley’s career meant nothing to me, and I didn’t give a damn if it went up in flames. She’d be stupid to run straightto a lawyer and draw up paperwork for a divorce. My wife was smarter than that, and that’s exactly why we had chosen her.
She was vulnerable and had so much to lose with her broken heart. The perfect woman to charm right into a trap. A loveless marriage for money and to keep my father off my ass, but he was right about one thing. Tinsley was nothing to me.
I should let her go. Allow her to grieve the dream she once had of a happily ever after with a husband who would fill her heart with love and devotion for the rest of her days and shower her endlessly with affection, but that fantasy was gone. It had vanished all because the Morgan namesake needed to continue to thrive. We’d profit millions from this arrangement with headline news alone, and the clients would keep coming.
My bachelor days with a new fuck in my bed every night were over, and I only had one woman on my mind. A strawberry-blonde beauty with curls I could wrap around my finger and smell the fruity shampoo she used. The scent of her made my dick throb and strain against my slacks. I wanted to undo the clasp and rip her dress off her delicate body, savoring every inch of her curves. I wanted to bury my cock so far inside of her she’d never think of any other man ever again. Only me.
Yet her radiant green eyes would consume me and get my attention. The stare of an angel who made me want to see the light, but I had no choice and had to push her away. Because I was just as sinister as my father and Morgans always got what we wanted.
I’d have her in my bed when I wanted her, and no other man would touch her. She’d be draped on my arm for all social events, news press conferences, and pictures for the tabloids. Tinsley was my wife. I had all the power. I called all the shots, and I was set onowningher because Tinsley Morgan was mine forever.
FOURTEEN
Melting Down
Tinsley
Iwas a wreck. A blazing mess of hurt, frustration, and rage out of control. I could burn Mitt’s mansion down with the flames whipping from me and leave his home in ashes at my feet—leave him inside with his overbearing father and let them both burn in hell for the scheme they had led me straight into. I had never been more pissed off in my entire life, and it was all thanks to my asshole husband.
Instead, I had to contain my fire and walk out the front door with a smile plastered on my face. A fake as fuck mode turned on for the paparazzi who never moved from their place, staking out and ready to snap a shot of us. I had to act as if I was running an errand when, in fact, I was fleeing from the mess I was dumb enough to fall for. I had never been more alone, and I didn’t want to be lonely anymore.
Usually, I’d take the subway, but I was Mrs. Morgan. Married to a man who hated me and only used me for business. But I could abuse his fortune.
“Get me out of here,” I ordered Albert, who was on standby outside of Morgan Estate in the limousine Mitt used twenty-four seven.
“But what about Mr. Morgan?”
I peered out the tinted window at the mansion that had once thrilled me. All the excitement and promise were gone. Bitterness was all that remained as every daydream turned to dust. There was a deep hole in my heart that I had hoped Mitt would fill, but he left me with nothing.
“My husband isn’t coming,” I snapped and peered straight ahead. “Drive.”
Albert gave a curt nod and took the vehicle out of park. “Very well, Mrs. Morgan.”
I gave him the address for my best friend.
“HOLLY!” I YELLED ASmy fist repeatedly pounded on the door. “Holly, it’s me. Open up!”
Seconds later, the door flew open. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to get away. To get out of there,” I answered heavily with my lungs burning, resembling an open fire. “I need time to breathe.”
The mirror in Holly’s entryway into her one-bedroom apartment made me stop and stare at myself. My hair was a frazzled mess from the snow melting with the heated apartment building, and the tip of my nose was bright red. Mascara was smeared under my bloodshot eyes. I was a walking disaster. I was thankful that the press wasn’t waiting outside Holly’s building as well; otherwise, I would have had to compose myself before stepping out of the vehicle.
The ride to my best friend’s place was a mix of emotions, and Albert put up the privacy window while I cried. My sobs filled the back of the limousine, and I took out my anger on the seats. My closed fists had pounded into the leather to the point where my knuckles turned white. But I had no one to blame except me.
“What’s going on, Tins?” Holly asked with concern, her eyebrows narrowing in the mirror’s reflection. “You were just on the news with Mitt, and you two looked so happy.”
“But it’s all a fraud!” I cried out and spun around, looking at her. “A giant sham, and I fell for it all!”
I broke down.
