Page 40 of Darling Nikki

Slowly, I turn to him. “I’m giving her fits?” I throw up my hands. “You know what? I’ll be damned if I fight with you about another bitch being in your ear.”

Leaving his silly ass standing there, I go over to the sitting area and sit down.

Sitting in an ice bucket is a bottle of Armand de Brignac with a card attached. I pluck it out.Congratulations, Mathias & Nicolette on your wedding, J & J.Hmm, despite all the pettiness the other night, his cousins sent a us nice little gift.

He comes over and plucks the card out of my hand. “Humph, bastards.” His eyes genuinely warm for the first time today.

Every time I looked his way and our glazes clashed, he seemed livid. Now I know why—Natalie.

The campaign has been stressful as hell despite him being in the lead by twenty points since the unfortunate discovery of his opponent’s extracurricular activities. Mathias is always gone, taking meetings throughout the day with constituents, interest groups, backers, and staff. Always staff. It’s like they live with us. I wouldn’t be surprised if LL or Natalie popped up with some last-minute detail they forgot to mention earlier. I wouldn’t be surprised to find either of them hiding under our bed.

He pops the top off the champagne with expertise garnered from years of posh living. He hands me a flute before pouring one for himself. “Cheers, little wife.” His eyes are slits of silver gray.

Ignoring the condescension in his tone, I take a tentative sip. It’s cold, delicious, and potent. Downing the rest, I allow the cool effervescence to pour over me, calming my frayed nerves.

Pouring myself another drink, I scoot back, crisscrossing my legs, letting my dress fall between them.

“You ruined your dress with that bullshit you pulled earlier.” Standing over me, he looks like a god damning a cretin to hell.

Eyeing the smudges on my dress, I know the grease will never come out. “That little girl’s life was worth it.”

His face flushes with rage like I’ve never seen before. “The fuck you mean her life? What about your life, you silly-ass girl?”

Pushing back to the edge, I stand, only to have him shove me back down.

“Sit the fuck down.”

My heart is hammering. “I knew what I was doing. I used to climb rides all the time.”

“When you were a kid, which you couldn’t wait to tell the press. I can’t wait till they start digging into your past. What the fuck were you thinking? What was all this for if you’re just going to pop off like that?” he practically yells.

Embarrassment and heat flood my face. “I wasn’t thinking. I was—” I can’t come up with the words to express how overwhelmed and jittery I was climbing the ride after so many years on the ground.

“Damn straight you weren’t. You could have broken your neck.” He scoffs.

“I’ve done it hundreds of times.” I don’t dare mention how scared I was, not now. He’d only get madder.

“You were a kid, and your dad should’ve never let you do that crazy shit anyway.” Talking about my daddy, whom I loved more than my life and lost way too early, is a low blow.

“I guess he couldn’t be father of the year like yours.”

He looks like I slapped him. I shove past him, walk-running in the direction where I assume the bathroom is.

“You better run,” he calls after me.

I barely take in the bed facing the cityscape of Birmingham lit up like Christmas at dusk. I bypass the huge walk-in closet already stocked with clothes. When I reach the opposite side of the room, I step into the bathroom. Unsurprised at the spa like quality of the room, I go over to the shower before turning the spigots to the desired heat level.

After using the restroom, I pull my hair into a topknot, then place a shower cap over it. I have no desire to fool with these curls tonight.

The bathroom is filled with steam. In quiet and peace, letting the water beat down on me in a steady rhythm, I allow the tears to come. My bestie would have never said anything so insensitive about my daddy. We respected each other’s pain around our fathers too much. But this fucking guy, this goddamn monster, he doesn’t care what he says. In that moment something happens I never thought would in a million years—I start to hate Mathias Shelby a little, the man who saved me and made me his best friend. He keeps breaking my heart, and I keep letting him. As I lather my body, I resolve to stop letting him.

Half the bottleof champagne is gone. I have some lightly buttered and salted popcorn to go with the delicious beverage while I cuddle up with my iPad, reading a Tristan and Isolde retelling by one of my favorite authors.

When I came back, he’d left, probably to go bitch about his unwanted wife to Nat or LL. I try not to let it bother me, but it does. Disloyal-ass motherfucker. I guess he feels like he doesn’t owe me anything. Rage pierces me. He said all was forgiven. Not to mention he should have never thought I was capable of betraying him, let alone tried to punish me for it. He should know better. Not for the first time since all this happened, I sit up straighter while thinking, champagne induced or not, that he should know me better than that. and her should never take his ex-fiancée’s side over mine in any fucking thing.

I’m still fuming when he comes in, his shirttails pulled out. He looks faded. As he approaches, I can smell the sativa on him.

“Wow, you are fucked up, Senator,” I sneer when he strides over, ignoring me, grabs the bottle, then turns to quirk a sardonic brow before tilting the alcohol into his cruel mouth. I feel my body responding, watching the way this throat works as he drinks the liquid. He’s so fucking sexy despite being an awful fucking husband.

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