Page 43 of Mistletoe Missus
Me: You’re late, Wife.
Nothing. Not even a sharp remark back. Dead silence.
I called her cell phone. The device rang on repeat with no answer. She was trying my patience. But her sweet voice came on through her voicemail, and I barked a new order at her. “Call me immediately.”
I shouldn’t give a damn and eat a hearty meal without her by my side, but I couldn’t stop images from playing out in my head: Tinsley stuck in a ditch somewhere while snow blew all around, desperate for help. Albert was behind the wheel and a careless driver had struck them, her body mangled in the back seat of my limousine.
My mind went to the worst when it shouldn’t, and I dialed all hospitals in New York because I had to put my overactive dark thoughts to rest. Each nurse assured me she wasn’t a patient after I had yelled at them to make sure. Ready to take a taxi to any emergency room if I felt their answer didn’t sit right with me, but she wasn’t there.
Tinsley was probably doing this to get a reaction out of me with her childish behavior. She made me desperate. Frantic to know where she could be as my watch hit the ten minutes mark for being late, and I got out of my seat.
My leather loafers paced the floor as I made another call because I needed to know what was going on. She was driving me absolutely crazy, and the idea of something happening to her made me into a man I had never been before. A husband worried sick about his wife, who was missing when she should be where I told her to be.
Tinsley should be at my favorite restaurant, eating her food and annoying the hell out of me. But she wasn’t, and I needed, no, Ihadto know where she was. Ihadto know she was safe before I flew off the handle, destroying anything in my path that impeded me from getting to her. Because Tinsley Morgan was mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine!
Albert answered on the fourth ring. “Hello, sir.”
“Albert...” I panted as I held onto the back of the chair and my knuckles were white. “Where’s my wife?”
“She’s with me,” he answered after a pause.
Relief combed through me. Tinsley was with Albert. She wasn’t in a ditch. She was unharmed. He would’ve called me by now if anything had happened to her, but he hadn’t informed me there was a change of plans.
I boiled to a breaking point.
“Why?” I hissed and ran a hand down my face. “Goddamn it! I told you to bring her here.”
“Yes, sir. I know that, but Mrs. Morgan insisted otherwise, and you wanted me to drive her.”
“ButI’mpaying you, Albert!” I yelled into the speaker and blood rushed to my head. “I gave you simple instructions.”
“And your wife gave me hers,” Albert explained as he stayed on course with his decision to take her side and not mine.
Difficult woman. Sexy as hell and intelligent, too. She could play anyone, getting everything she wanted, and she was playing me.
God, Tinsley Morgan was such a good fucking wife, she was on the verge of being bad. Her wicked ways not only got to me, but to my chauffeur, who had worked for me for years. We were doomed from the moment she came into our lives, and I thought I could control her. Bend her the way I wanted and shape her into a trophy wife. Everything my father had wanted, but I could see I had a lot of work to do.
I questioned, “What command did she give you?”
“To take her to Beau Kingston.”
I picked the chair up off the floor and slammed it back down. With the impact, the back legs broke off my seat and gasps of surprise came from the kitchen. The commotion of my outburst brought the server out of hiding, but he didn’t utter a peep. I was beyond furious. Anger fumed to its peak inside of me, and I was on the edge of an explosion.
I needed to see my wife.Now.
“Give. Me. The. Address,” I spat out each word.
Albert did as he was told, giving me the destination. My anger never got to him. He was used to my madness, accustomed to my calculated coldness, and always by my side, even when he shouldn’t be. Nothing about me frightened him, but my changeof attitude certainly alarmed the restaurant staff. The manager came out, staring at me with wide-eyed shock as I hung up the phone and threw the rest of the ruined chair onto the table.
“What the—”
“I’ll pay for the damage,” I interrupted, as I patted my business card against his chest and headed for the exit.
