The Marriage Debt

by Waltz, Vanessa

  "Weird." I thought about it. "A stream of nannies raised me until I was ten. Then I was shipped off to an overseas boarding school. I missed my sister. It killed me, being away from her."

  "That is pretty odd." Naomi listened, frowning. "What’s the worst part about being famous?"

  "I miss people. I miss the everyday connections—whether it’s chatting with the bartender or shooting the shit with the grocery store clerk."

  "You can do that." Naomi’s lips curved into a wry grin. "You just need practice disguising yourself."

  "Maybe you could help me."

  "Let’s go to Target," she blurted. "We’ll get you normal people clothes."

  "I’m not so sure that’ll help." I glanced at the restaurant’s opulent ceiling, spotting a security camera. "All these casinos have facial recognition software. They’re on me like wart plasters the second I arrive."

  "They?" she asked.

  "Casino managers, pit bosses, waitresses, everyone."

  "Then we leave the casino."

  I liked how she included herself in this scenario. We were in this together, whatever this was.

  "Where are we going?"

  Her eyes brightened. "The Valley of Fire."

  "Sounds ominous."

  "It’s an hour’s drive from here. Beautiful hiking."

  Getting away from the madness in Vegas was massively appealing. "I’ll call us a driver."

  "No, no, no," she chimed. "We’ll take a tour bus and walk around. It was on my bucket list, anyway."

  "I’ve never been on a bus."

  "That’s ridiculous." She laughed, covering her mouth. "I can’t wait to see you try to figure out public transportation."

  "It won’t be pretty. I’ve not ridden a train, either."

  "Damn, you’re missing out. Half of my best random encounters occurred on a subway or a Greyhound station."

  I was starting to agree with her.

  What the hell. "Why not? Let’s do it."

  "Yes." Naomi celebrated with a fist pump. "First stop, Target."

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, we still hadn’t left the casino.

  "Why is it so hard to navigate these places?" Naomi mused, tightening her arm around mine.

  "They want you disoriented. Keeps you from leaving with your money."

  "I see." Naomi squeezed my fingers. "Well, getting lost with you isn’t so bad."

  Her smile tugged at my heart. I liked her. I more than liked her. She could’ve been anyone, but I’d given her endless opportunities to rip me off. She hadn’t.

  I turned the corner into another wall of slot machines. "Vegas doesn’t want us to leave. What should we do?"

  "What do you want to do?"

  "You."

  Naomi rolled her eyes, grinning. "I walked right into that one, didn’t I?" My head pounded with three whiskey sours. I strode toward the exit—or what I thought was the exit—and entered a mall.

  There was no helpful map pointing out all the shops. No signs. Nothing to help us navigate this monstrosity.

  "How’d we get here?"

  “We might have to take a raincheck on our Target run. There’s nothing here but designer stores." I shot a glance at Naomi, who I suddenly saw in a ravishing Valentino dress. "Hold on. I have a better idea."

  Grinning, I took her hand and led her to the storefront.

  "No way, Graham. Stick to the plan!"

  "There’s no Target on the strip. Closest one’s three miles away and I’m too drunk to find my way out."

  Her troubled gaze met mine.

  "Meeting you has made my year. You’re the best. Let me do this for you," I said.

  "No thanks," she said, stunning me. "I don’t want your money."

  Countless women had said it, but I’d only ever believed it from one woman.

  She was different, and she'd be mine. Nothing ever stopped a Hawthorne from what he wanted.

  I told her I was rich. That wasn’t the whole truth.

  Naomi

  After showering, I discovered a walk-in closet packed with clothes.

  How the hell did he know I wore size seven shoes?

  I swiped through the racks and picked one at random, staring at a vintage Versace blouse. I rifled through my choices. Calvin Klein. Givenchy. Valentino. Graham wanted to wrap me in silk. I had no interest in becoming another man’s arm-candy.

  After dating Ethan, I should've been used to pretty cages. The blisters on my heels said otherwise. After failing to find a single t-shirt, I chose a top and matching dark bottoms. Bras in my cup size packed the drawers. I guess he wanted to be prepared. It was thoughtful, considering he kidnapped me.

  I pictured our reunion thousands of times. In my dreams, Graham welcomed me with the warmth I’d sought in Ethan but never found. He had a reason for disappearing. He apologized. In my fantasies, he certainly didn’t resemble the same vicious, hateful son-of-a-bitch as I encountered in the library.

  First things first.

  A quick phone call told me Dad doing well, about to be discharged from the hospital. I swallowed my grief and said nothing more about the clinical trial. Now wasn’t the time to broach the subject.

  One crisis at a time, girl.

  My second catastrophe flashed on my screen—a text from Ethan. I unlocked the phone, reading the messages I’d ignored.

  Ethan: Where are you?

  Ethan: You have eight hours to fix this.

  I swallowed the well of rising panic.

  That gave me until five to figure out another living arrangement. Ethan wouldn’t tolerate me staying here, not that I wanted to stay.

  My husband was a jackass. I couldn’t see us occupying the same room without screaming at each other.

  It might've been unsafe, but I'd go home to my apartment. I’d paid for the month, and I didn't want to bring this insanity to my father's doorstep. Going to Ethan wasn't an option. Neither was staying here.

  So I packed my possessions and left my bedroom. Soft jazz music tinkled from the living room. I walked in the opposite direction, heading to the lounge for the private elevator, but I stopped several feet short of my goal. A man with arms bigger than my thigh blocked my escape.

  He wore a black tie and suit over a crisp, white shirt. Blue tattoos crawled up his neck. When I approached the panel of buttons, he stepped in the way.

  "Ma’am, the lift is off limits."

  "Fine," I said, playing dumb. "I’ll take the stairs."

  "I can’t let you do that."

  "Let me?"

  The bodyguard swallowed hard, his lips flattening into a pale line. "Mr. Hawthorne believes your safety is compromised. He’s instructed me to keep you inside."

  "Unbelievable." I paced the space between us, eyeing the door to the staircase. "I leave one possessive asshole and run into the same guy wearing a different suit."

  The guard had no comment.

  "What’s your name?" I spat.

  "David."

  "You need to step aside. Let me pass." The goon didn’t bat an eye. "Are you listening to me? David."

  He heaved a great sigh.

  "I’m warning you." I took another step closer to the mammoth-like hulk, who kept his gaze straight ahead. "I can’t beat you in a wrestling match, but I will make this difficult for you."

  David’s mouth twisted into a half-smile.

  I shoved his arm, throwing my weight into the movement. David calmly redirected my hands, and I stumbled forward. He was unfazed. If anything, he looked sorry for me.

  "Look, I don’t want to hurt you."

  His gaze dipped to my fists. "That’s not likely."

  "Pick on someone closer to your own size," said a sarcastic voice behind me. "Like me."

  Graham stood in the foyer, wearing black flannel pants and an infuriating grin. Light streamed across the room and stroked his shirtless body.

  "Morning." He approached me, the sun in his eyes. "Did you sleep okay?"

  I flinched. It sounded like a
taunt about what we did last night. "You’re such an asshole."

  "For being a good host?"

  Fury lashed my limbs as he continued grinning. "Once I get out of here, I’m slapping you with a kidnapping charge."

  "Well, gosh." Graham placed a hand over his heart. "You’ve put me in my place."

  I looked at the bodyguard, incredulous. "You have nothing to add? This is kidnapping."

  "I pay him good money to keep his opinions to himself." He jerked his head, indicating I should follow. "Come."

  I glared at David, who stared back impassively. Begging him wouldn’t work. I was stuck dealing with my husband—an unfeeling prick who expected me to dog his footsteps. He was just like Ethan, and yet I felt something with Graham. My powerless attraction to him was kindling for affection, but I wouldn’t let it grow. The part of me that loved him was gone, buried, dead.

  I charged into a brightly lit kitchen as he clicked on a remote to lower the music’s volume. He wrenched open the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice. A feast sprawled over the marble island. Scrambled eggs and meat sat on a massive plate. Assorted pastries filled a basket. A steaming pot of coffee stood on the counter, along with a bowl of fruit salad.

  I couldn’t remember the last time anyone surprised me with breakfast. The tantalizing scent of bacon drew me forward. My hand hovered near a stack of fresh plates.

  “Eat,” he insisted. "You look dead on your feet."

  "You treated me like a used condom just a few hours ago. Now you’re feeding me?"

  "Would you rather I starved you?" Graham served himself an inch’s worth of juice and chugged it like a shot. He still micromanaged his sugar intake.

  Psycho. "You’re no better than he is."

  "Don’t compare me to him."

  "I’ll never touch you again," I spat. "Ever."

  "Sounds like a promise you won’t be able to keep." Graham smirked as he poured coffee. "Judging by last night."

  "Are you referring to the sex or the aftermath?"

  Graham rolled his eyes and sipped from his mug before sliding a cup toward me. I wanted to throw it in his face.

  "Thanks for breakfast," I said it without eating a bite. "And for rescuing me from that crowd. I appreciate it, but now I have to go home."

  Graham sat still, as expressionless as stone. "You thank me for saving you in one breath and want me to return you to the lion's jaws in the next. Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?"

  "You don’t know everything about me."

  "You’re a liar who ran into another rich man’s arms the moment you got home."

  Tears punched the backs of my eyelids. The bastard had no clue about what I’d been through.

  None whatsoever. "If that’s what I am, let me go."

  "You signed away your freedom." He smiled, but it was strained, almost bestial. "I won’t give you a divorce, so you better get used to me. Oh, I nearly forgot."

  His hand dove into his pocket. My limbs froze when he produced a little velvet cube and popped the lid, revealing a wedding band spangled with diamonds. A princess-cut rock glinted from interlinking chains of sapphire and platinum. He ripped it out, the box clattering to the floor, and swiftly slid it over my ring finger.

  "Like it?"

  He didn’t sound as if he cared, but I loved it. The ring was gorgeous, like everything else in this house.

  "I can’t take this." I set it gently on the counter. "And I’m leaving."

  "No."

  He was serious. He wasn’t going to let me go.

  Graham left the breakfast stool, carrying his mug with him. I caught up with him and seized his wrist. He scorched me with a teasing smile that burned straight through. I needed to rage at him for being such a spiteful bastard, yet I craved his arms wrapped around me. I itched to slap him for laying eyes on me, and I needed to kiss him.

  His eyes slanted as I stood there. "What?"

  "You’re not the only one with problems bigger than yourself."

  "I think I can handle any drama Ethan’s planning to spin in the papers."

  "It’s not drama," I shouted, my voice breaking. "It’s my life. He’ll come after me."

  Graham’s voice darkened. "He might try."

  He had no idea what he’d started. My blood pressure shot to the stratosphere.

  "I will not be a pawn in whatever feud you have with my ex. Let me go! The apartment—"

  "Is not fucking safe!"

  "I’m not safe here."

  "You’re surrounded by bodyguards and round-the-clock security." Graham lowered his voice, frowning. "Nobody has access to the elevator except a handful of people and emergency staff. He can’t touch you."

  "Ethan will destroy everything I care about."

  Confusion knitted his brows. He seemed to register my agony for the first time. He held me. His grip was firm, but not without warmth.

  "What happened?"

  After his rejection last night, I didn’t want his pity.

  "Naomi, talk to me."

  I couldn’t tolerate gentleness from him. "I can’t."

  "Why?"

  I pushed his steel chest as he trapped me in his arms. I fought when he tipped my chin up. He touched my cheek, and I flinched horribly. Something clicked as he studied me.

  Devastation crept into his gaze. His words were pure grit, rolling with menace. "He hit you."

  “No. Never.”

  He tensed. A horrible fury spiraled his body as my walls slowly crumbled, one by one. Ethan had damaged me. He finally saw it, and I felt naked. Exposed.

  "Tell me what happened."

  He softened, and I wanted to break.

  "Naomi," he reasoned.

  "No." I detached from his embrace, finding his kindness unbearable. I walked into my room, hoping he’d take the hint and leave me alone.

  His voice rolled like thunder. “What’s he done to you?”

  “What hasn’t he done?”

  Graham

  Put down the phone. This is a mistake.

  My thumb stabbed Ethan’s number. I’d deleted him from my contacts ages ago, but I remembered every digit. Ethan’s worthless existence had plagued me for years. He was radioactive waste. He would never disappear.

  Ethan picked up on the first ring. “Hawthorne.”

  His detached tone made me bleed hate. “I just want you to know something.”

  “What’s that?” He asked, bored.

  "You ever touch her again, and I'll kill you."

  Ethan chuckled, drawing out the sound. “That’s over the top, don’t you think?"

  "Not really."

  "Well, I’d say it is, considering you’ve been with her one day. You’re five years too late."

  My stomach clenched. I was raw because of the horror shining in her gaze, from what she didn’t tell me. My mind filled in the blanks with the awfulness of their relationship.

  “I’ll repay you for everything you’ve put her through.”

  “Treating her to Michelin-star restaurants? Vacations to Bali? Being there for her when her father got sick?" His amusement darkened. "Where were you, Graham? Oh, that’s right. You dumped her.”

  "I let her go, and you hunted her. There’s a big fucking difference."

  "Your loss. My gain. I want her back.” Anger bit into his words.

  "She wants you to fuck off."

  “Every couple has their problems. You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never had a relationship last three months.”

  He was messing with me, and I was letting him.

  “Put her on the phone,” he demanded. “Tell her I miss her.”

  “You’ll never hear her voice again.”

  “You have no right to make that call. This isn’t about a rivalry." And his voice leveled as though to prove it. "Why did I stay with her for so long? Why am I there every time her dad is hospitalized? Because I love her."

  He had no right to use those words.

  "Stay away from my wife."

  "My wif
e," he mocked. "Who the hell do you think you are? You’ve been out of the picture for years. You don’t get to drop in and destroy the life we’re trying to build together."

  "Says the man who dated the same girl I married in Vegas." I wasn’t sure how—or why—but he’d tracked her down. "You are so full of shit."

  "Well, I’d tell you how we met," Ethan said, a smile in his voice. "But some things should stay between Naomi and I."

  "What did you do to her?"

  "No idea what you’re talking about," he deadpanned. "Let her go, Hawthorne. She’s better off with me. You know I’m right—"

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I hurled the phone. It cracked against the wall.

  He was lying. About their relationship—about loving her. Every word was a fucking lie.

  Did that make it better?

  I closed my eyes and pictured Naomi’s face.

  It did not.

  * * *

  I paced outside her bedroom, going mad with unanswered questions. Nobody reacted well to a sudden loss of freedom, but Naomi’s behavior reeked of abuse. When she folded under questioning, that sealed the deal.

  He hurt her.

  I hated myself. He was a monster, but I’d assumed dating him was her choice. That she’d led a cushy life. My wife was a catch. Ethan would’ve been the world’s biggest moron to mistreat her, but of course he did. He was sick. No doubt, she’d suffered.

  The not knowing killed me.

  I wanted to understand the depth of Ethan’s depravity. Each detail of his abuse would be remembered and avenged. The bastard would feel every injury he inflicted on her tenfold, but my revenge took a backseat to my wife.

  Naomi needed to let me in.

  I knocked. "Can I come in?"

  She didn't respond. I pushed open the door and found her on the bed. A pink robe draped her shoulders, and she'd surrounded herself with tissues. At least she wasn't crying.

  Her fierce glare sent knives through my chest.

  "Go away."

  "If I thought that’d help, I would." I sat beside her.

  "How could you know?"

  It wasn’t an accusation.

  "Ethan and I have history. I know what he is." She was curious about our past, but I steered in another direction. "I hadn’t seen you in five years. My first glimpse of you was in his arms. It fucked me up, Naomi. I’m a jealous asshole who deserves your contempt. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I am sorry. Seeing you with him brought out the worst in me. I’m not trying to make excuses for my behavior." I reached across the bedspread and brushed her hand. "I just want to tell you…you can talk to me about anything."