Unfinished Seductions

by Raleigh Davis

  “Sure. There are bigger secrets in the Valley. It’ll be a scandal for a while, then it’ll blow over. And it will be good publicity.”

  Callie doesn’t say anything. Instead, she stares out at the view like there’s the answer to some deep question out there, and if she just looks hard enough, she’ll find it.

  “Maybe,” she says eventually, mostly to herself. She shifts next to me, our bodies connecting from shoulder to knee.

  Suddenly I don’t care about the view or the wine or even the damn website. I need her, now.

  I tilt her face toward mine, feathering kisses along her forehead, her temples, between her brows. My need is urgent, but I also want to savor her, to go slow and fast all at once.

  “Logan.” She makes my name the sweetest sound of surrender. Her hand comes to my shoulder, balancing against me.

  Yes. Yes, I’ll always be her rock, her support, the foundation of her life.

  “You’re mine,” I say as I kiss her cheeks, her nose, her jaw. God, she’s beautiful even like this, with only my lips to see her with. “I’m not letting you go. Not ever.”

  Blindly she searches for my mouth, her lips parting. I kiss her deeply since I’ll always find her. She doesn’t have to search for me.

  The night is warm, but she’s burning in my arms, the fire in her sizzling through me. Our kiss is long, searching, an awakening.

  Everything falls away as I lift her into my arms—the view, the sounds of the night, and our life beyond this moment. There’s only her and me, the only things that matter. The only things that have ever mattered.

  And when we find the bedroom, nothing intrudes between us. It’s the freest I’ve been in… forever.

  Chapter 33

  “This is… amazing. Just amazing.”

  I’m scrolling through the mockup for the very first article we’ll be featuring on the home page. We’ve been working on the site for over a month now, and we’re just one day away from the launch.

  And this is our first shot across the bow. The banner is an illustration of Arne Fuchs as a puppet master, pulling the strings at TidBytes. A friend did the illustration, and I did the typography—I’ve made the strings coming from Fuchs’s hands turn into the letters that make up the word TidBytes. It looks jaw-dropping. There’s no way someone will scroll past it without wanting to read the article.

  The article itself is dynamite. It’s the first in a long series we’ve got planned on Fuchs and Corvus, and it lays out exactly how he’s connected to TidBytes—owns it, really—and uses it to malign and manipulate his enemies.

  We didn’t even have to put in anything about Logan and me. It turns out that Fuchs targeted way more people than just us. Thanks to the dirt that the Bastards have dug up and turned over to Greg and Lila, we’ve got material for many, many more stories like this.

  “That illustration is fantastic,” Greg says. He and Lila have flown up to SF to put the finishing touches on the story and to be here for the launch of the site, which is tomorrow.

  I put a hand to my belly. That thought makes a storm of butterflies take off, even though there’s nothing more left to do for the launch. Everything is ready to go, including everything for the party tonight.

  My Kyla Madison dress is even here, arriving by special courier this morning. I only had time to unzip the garment bag and stare at it for a few moments before I had to take off to the office. But the dress looks beyond my wildest dreams. I can’t wait to wear it tonight.

  I can’t wait for Logan to see me in it tonight.

  “All that’s left to do is hit Publish.” I hide how terrified that makes me feel. I’m in command here, so I’ve got to put on a brave face for Greg and Lila and for the dozens of people in the rest of the office, all of them working away on this crazy idea of mine. A crazy idea that’s about to become very, very real in twelve hours or so.

  I check the clock, then do a double take. “Oh no. I should have left here half an hour ago.”

  There’s an entire team of beauticians coming to my house to prepare me for tonight. If I don’t race home, they’re going to have no one to beautify.

  “I’ll see you at the party?” I ask Greg and Lila as I gather up my things.

  “Yep,” Lila says. “We’re looking forward to it.”

  I wave over my shoulder as I dash out to the waiting car.

  As the driver takes me home, I wonder if Logan might be there. His office is fixed, and he’s back to working from there, but I’ve been so busy with the media company I’ve hardly had time to miss him during the day.

  But he comes home for dinner every evening, and at night…

  My stomach flutters again, with both pleasurable memories and anxious anticipation.

  Not only am I launching a website tomorrow, I’m also late. Today would be the very first day I could take a pregnancy test, but I want Logan there and we’ve got this party and it would just be the worst time to do it.

  But oh God, do I want to know. I was hopeful the last time this happened, but now that Logan and I have renewed our marriage, I’m beyond hopeful. My emotions are incandescent.

  I have to hold them at arm’s length though. Tomorrow, once the launch has gone off, then I can indulge them. Until then, I have to hold myself together.

  I arrive home five minutes before the beauticians appear. Then I spend the next two hours becoming gorgeous as they transform my hair, nails, and face.

  I feel like Cinderella by the time they’re done even if I’m only wearing a bathrobe. My magical gown is still in the garment bag, and I don’t want to put it on until just before I leave in case something happens to it.

  Logan still isn’t home, but he should be here any minute, and then we can head to the party together. I rattle around the house as I wait for him, petting Meowthra, doing a few small sketches of the orchids Logan had delivered this morning, and staring at the view.

  When someone knocks at the front door, I race for it. It must be Logan, knocking instead of opening it with his keys because he’s got some surprise for me…

  Only, the surprise that’s waiting for me isn’t a good one. It’s absolutely awful.

  Minerva Dyne is standing at my front door, looking… blank. Not triumphant, not pleased. But not angry or defeated either.

  I go cold down to my bones. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.

  She’s got a bouquet in her hands, but she looks anything but happy. “Mr. Fuchs sends his congratulations.”

  The bouquet is roses, long-stemmed, exactly the shade of pink of the ones at my old cottage. My stomach flips at the sight. That seems so long ago, even though I’ve been back with Logan for only six weeks.

  As I take the roses, one of the thorns catches on the inside of my arm, leaving a red streak. “I’m surprised. I would have thought Mr. Fuchs would be angry that I’m launching a competitor to his gossip site.”

  Minerva shakes her head. “The roses aren’t for that. He’s saying congratulations on revealing your secret identity. He loves the blog.”

  That last line feels like it should come with a sneer, but she just can’t muster the effort for it. And then my brain catches up to her words.

  The roses nearly slide out of my arms as I realize. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.” Minerva heads for her car. “You should really check TidBytes. Like, now.”

  Oh hell. No, no, no. Not tonight. Not like this.

  I run back inside, tossing the roses onto a side table, and then dash for my laptop. My fingers fumble over the keys as I type in the web address, trembling and clumsy. But finally, finally, I get TidBytes to open.

  The headline that greets me is exactly the one I was expecting.

  Logan Martell’s Wife Revealed as Author of Controversial Blog.

  As headlines go, it’s clumsy, too direct. But as clickbait, it’s perfect.

  I thought this would be a fair fight, that it was us against Fuchs, equally matched. But he’s always held the nuclear option, and now he
’s decided to push the button.

  I force myself to read the entire story even though I’m already feeling sick to my stomach. When I’m done, I feel even worse.

  The writer didn’t pull any punches. Everyone I thought I was writing about anonymously is named here. My commenters are pulled apart, their identities the subject of snarky speculation. The story ends with two full paragraphs about the launch of my media company and how it’s so, so curious this was leaked right before my new site went live.

  I’m livid. Fuchs knows damn well he leaked this but couldn’t pass up a chance to make me look like shit.

  My phone rings. Slowly, slowly I drag my gaze to the screen, although I already know who it must be. There’s only one end to this awful, terrible scene.

  Logan Work, the phone flashes.

  This is it. He finally knows.

  I pick up the phone with shaky, too-thick fingers. “Hello?”

  “Is it true?” His voice is deep, resonant—and utterly cold.

  “Yes.”

  “Who else knew?”

  “No one. Just me.” Suddenly I remember confessing to Brienne. “Wait. I did tell Brienne, back when I was recruiting her.”

  “Are you certain? Think.”

  He’s never spoken to me like this, like an employee who’s one wrong word away from being fired.

  “Yes, I’m certain.”

  “She’s the only one who knew?”

  Meaning he never knew. I never once trusted him with it.

  “Yes.” It’s so small I can barely hear it myself.

  “All right. We’re dealing with it.”

  The line goes dead.

  We’re dealing with it. Meaning the Bastards, not him and me. It was him and me together for a time, but now that’s all over. I can’t blame him for being angry.

  I can blame him for not being there before, for abandoning me in this marriage, but I can’t blame him for this. I had every chance to tell him about the blog, about my suspicions that Fuchs might know about it… and I didn’t.

  He’s not coming home tonight. I know that the same way I used to know that he wouldn’t be home before I fell asleep, that I wouldn’t be seeing him for days.

  I’m not even certain if he’ll come to the party. I’ve made a huge mess for him to clean up, a mountain of work that requires him to fix.

  And work has always come first for him.

  Chapter 34

  I’m alone in my beautiful dress, surrounded by hundreds of people.

  Kyla outdid herself—the fabric is heavy silk in a light, silvery gray, and the skirt billows out around me, yards and yards of luxury. The neckline is low, showing off my shoulders and the diamonds I’m wearing. Woven into the low collar are hundreds and hundreds of crystals, which burst with light every time I move.

  I’m utterly gorgeous and utterly miserable.

  I was tempted to call off the party or just not show up, but that would be giving Fuchs a victory. He’s probably going to win the war, but I want to claim this one small skirmish.

  And I’m here for everyone who’s worked so hard on the website. This isn’t just my project anymore—it belongs to all of us. Except I don’t feel like celebrating, so I’m in a corner, avoiding everyone.

  There’s no sign of Logan, not that I expected him to come. There’s been no more word from him, not even a text.

  Trouble is, everyone else expected him to come, so people have been asking me where he is, when he’s coming. I can only smile apologetically and shrug. And watch the speculation flare in their gazes.

  Everyone knows I’m the Silicon Wife. Everyone can see that Logan might not be coming. And everyone is starting to add those facts up.

  I really, really wish I were anywhere but here.

  Lila and January come up to me, laughing as they hang on each other’s arms. They’ve only just met each other tonight, but they’re fast friends.

  “I still can’t believe you’re the Silicon Wife,” January says, giving me a quick hug.

  I pat her back, trying not to dissolve into tears.

  “It’s just so cool,” Lila adds.

  I try to smile, but my mouth freezes. “Logan isn’t happy about it. He… he didn’t know.”

  Oh hell. Their faces drop like I’ve just told them the champagne is spiked with arsenic.

  “Oh, honey.” January grabs me for a deeper hug while Lila pats my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything.” The tears start to leak out of my voice and then my eyes. Damn it.

  January’s eyes go wide. “Ooo-kay. We need to get you out of here.”

  She and Lila sweep me into a side room—the bride’s prep area. We’ve rented out a mansion that’s usually used for weddings, which somehow makes my mood even darker.

  I sag into a chair. “It’s true,” I say. “Logan hates me now.”

  “Logan loves you,” January says. “Even when you were gone, he was crazy with missing you.”

  My mother bursts in then, a flute of champagne hanging from her hand and a smile on her face. “Darling! There you are.”

  Her long hair has gone salt-and-pepper, and she wears the years of her life proudly in the lines of her face. I invited her back when I thought this party would actually be a triumph, but I’m shocked she actually came. Launch parties are not her thing.

  “Mom.” I take a sharp, hiccupy breath, feeling about eleven years old again. “You’re here.”

  “Honey.” She kneels next to me. “Why are you crying? I heard all about your writing that blog, and I’m so impressed.”

  “You’re…” I suck in another staccato breath. “You’re here because of my blog?”

  “Well, yes. Why did you keep it a secret?” She pushes on my arm, her version of friendly encouragement. “It’s exactly what needs to be said.”

  I put my face in my hands. My mom’s approval is so rare I should be basking in her praise, but my life is so awful I can’t.

  “Logan didn’t know,” January says. “And who are you?”

  I drop my hands. “My mom, meet January. January, my mom.”

  Mom waves jauntily. Clearly she’s having the time of her life. She didn’t bother to dress up; she’s got on worn jeans and a loose top, probably having just come from her garden.

  January waves back. “Callie’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Oooh.” Mom sidles close. “Tell me everything she said.”

  “Mo-o-om.” She’s way too upbeat for me right now. I need doom and gloom and little black rain clouds around me.

  “Oh, I was joking,” she says. “And don’t worry about the blog thing. If you speak truth, people will hate you. That’s just a fact of life.”

  “I don’t want people to hate me.” I don’t want my husband to hate me, but I’ve royally screwed that up.

  “Then live a boring life. But it’s too late for that apparently.”

  “It’s too late for a lot of things.”

  Logan.

  He looms in the doorway, his expression as bleak and forbidding as the wind that whips through Lands End.

  Lila actually squeaks, just like a mouse, then grabs January’s arm and hustles them both out of the room.

  My mother isn’t so intimidated. She sends Logan a hard look, which he returns measure for measure. “I’ll let you two to talk.”

  Then she leaves too, leaves me to face my visibly angry husband.

  Chapter 35

  She looks incredible. I can see that even through the haze of my anger.

  She also looks frightened. And guilty. And surprised.

  “You came,” she said.

  I look away, squeeze my eyes shut. “You thought I’d stay away?”

  Fuck, after everything we’ve been through, she still doesn’t believe in me. Although I knew that already, thanks to reading her blog.

  I should be grateful she hasn’t run off again. But I’m pretty fucking far from grateful right now.

  “Y
ou’re hurt,” she says, as if that should explain why I wouldn’t come. As if I’m some overgrown man-baby ready to sit in the corner and suck his thumb rather than being a man and supporting his wife.

  “You’re goddamn right I am.” I’m snarling like a feral animal. Hell, I am an animal, because I enjoy the way she flinches at my tone. “You shared your deepest feelings with a bunch of fucking strangers instead of me. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

  I was supposed to fix the shit storm Fuchs started; instead, I’d read her words, thousands and thousands of them, all detailing how miserable she was, how she was losing herself in our marriage.

  And when I came to the final entry, the one that said she didn’t want anything from me, didn’t want to carry anything from our marriage into her new life, one without me…

  I’m pissed. I’m livid. But I still got in the car and came here.

  She’s pissed now too, jabbing a finger at me. “You decided you’d rather pour yourself into work instead of our marriage. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

  I shake my head. Not this bullshit again. “Yeah? And where have I been for the past month? Right by your side. You might have mentioned at some point that you had a secret blog everyone was reading.”

  Her face goes white. “You didn’t even know what it was before now.”

  No, I hadn’t. Because it wasn’t for me—it was for all the wives who felt as trapped as she did. I still don’t understand, because Callie could have chosen to be anything she wanted and I still would have loved her. And she chose a role that made her miserable. And kept forcing herself into that role until she went crazy with angst over it.

  I missed all of it. Because I was too damn busy with work, just like she accused. Fuck. I’m angry and guilty and embarrassed. And terrified that she’ll leave again, only this time I’ll understand completely.

  I run my hand through my hair. “I’ve seen your traffic stats. Plenty of other people were reading it. And commenting. That’s how Fuchs found out about our divorce, wasn’t it?” I start to smash my fist into a side table, then think better of it. “Again, something you might have mentioned way back in Platina.”