The Marriage Debt

by Waltz, Vanessa

  "No thanks," she said coldly, pulling out of reach. "I don’t need you."

  "Everybody needs someone."

  "Not you." Her eyebrows narrowed. "And stop looking at me like that."

  "What?"

  "A victim. I’m a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, and I am fed up with being bossed around."

  Frustration needled my chest. "I am trying to keep you out of the spotlight and away from Ethan. That’s all."

  "You might be coming from a better place, but you’re doing the same things he did."

  I ignored how that boiled my blood. "Like what?"

  "Making decisions for me. Dictating my schedule. Picking out my clothes."

  "My personal assistant will get anything you want. Or you can spend the day shopping, but you can’t take off alone. I don’t even have that kind of freedom."

  Naomi crossed her arms, miserable. "Great."

  "I can’t let you go. If that makes me a selfish prick, so be it."

  The fire dimmed from her gaze. “You’re a stranger to me."

  "We’ll get to know each other."

  "You aren’t the Graham I fell for in Vegas."

  Her words were a thousand knives stabbing me. I couldn’t be angry with her, but killing someone with kindness was a foreign concept.

  How should I prove I wasn’t him?

  "A lot’s happened since then," I ground out. "I’m not that man anymore."

  "That’s what scares me."

  She needed to realize I was safe. In time, she’d learn to trust me. I had to undo the damage I’d caused.

  "You have nothing to fear. Least of all from me. I’m your husband. I own you. And you own me."

  I cupped her face.

  Her grin carved into my palm. "I forgot about that."

  "Don’t let it go to your head." I smiled, glad that she hadn’t flinched from my touch. "Please eat something. You’ll feel better. I promise."

  Naomi rolled her eyes and slipped off the bed, looking more animated than she’d been in days.

  You own me. I couldn’t have phrased it more perfectly. The threat she posed against me was nil. I had an arsenal. She had a fly swatter.

  I followed her into the kitchen, where she found a table filled with her guilty-pleasure foods.

  Yes, I remembered.

  Our eyes met, and she smiled.

  Sometimes the illusion of power was as good as having it.

  Naomi

  If my husband wouldn’t let me go, I’d use him.

  Graham would help me escape Ethan’s influence. I was well aware of the irony of using one man to make another disappear, but he wasn’t Ethan.

  Living with my ex was like tiptoeing around a sleeping dragon. He didn’t understand how to trust. Locking eyes with him sent a chill down my spine, but my new husband gave me plenty of space. He stopped by only to invite me to meals. He followed through with the personal assistant. I stocked the closet with Target and Urban Outfitters. Finally, I wore what I wanted.

  It was good to be me.

  When Graham made it clear he was not going to renege on his promises, I quit hunting for an escape. My husband proved that he wasn't rigid. He was willing to bend the rules for me. I could work with that.

  I slipped from the bed and tied a silk kimono around my waist. It was beautiful, glossy ebony with tan trimmings and pink sakura blossoms. I lazily tied the knot and went to find Graham. Light flickered under the French doors leading to his precious library. I grasped the knob and twisted.

  The door yawned to a room of deep reds and warm browns. The wall-to-wall bookshelves surrounded a cozy space interspersed with fat armchairs, coffee tables, and rugs. A man’s shadow moved, rippling with the flames of the fireplace. Graham straightened in his wingback chair.

  His reproving gaze sent a thrill through me.

  “Can’t sleep. Thought we might talk.”

  Orange light flashed across his face. He turned stared into the flames. "Sure."

  He liked to sell himself as ruthless, yet he denied me nothing. I smiled and sat on the rug in front of the fire. Heat licked my skin as I stretched my legs. Then I lay down, knowing the kimono only partially covered me.

  I watched him through half-closed lashes. Graham stared at me, his chin on his palm. His undisguised desire mirrored the flames crackling in the fireplace. I couldn’t remember when he’d last touched me, and it was driving me insane.

  His knees hit the floor with a thump. He lounged next to my body. He slid down, propping his head with an elbow. In his eyes, lust raged a bitter war with pride.

  "I don't need to say you're gorgeous." His admiration filled my belly with heat. "You know it already. Don't you?"

  "Maybe I enjoy hearing it from you."

  My heart squeezed when he smiled, a full-blown grin that made him feel like the real furnace. He touched my face, light enough to pull a strand side. "You’re beautiful."

  He’d always been perfect. His hands trailed down my neck, silencing me with boundless pleasure and that purr in his voice.

  Did he have any idea how much he affected me?

  There was a light tickle at my waist. He fingered the knot barely keeping my kimono together. He watched me as he tugged a string, the movement flooding me with yearning. Warmth licked my side as Graham slowly unwrapped me, his gaze like a tongue on my skin.

  Who was seducing who?

  The silk dragged over my breast when he peeled it from my body. He sat upright, feasting on my nakedness. His palm rested on my abdomen.

  “You didn’t come here to talk," Graham admiration became a leer. "You came here to flash your tits in my face. You think I didn’t see this coming a mile away? Countless women have tried to use me."

  "I haven’t asked you for anything."

  "Yet." He grinned, not looking angry. "I expected this from others—not you."

  "Why?"

  His hand made a circle, which gradually widened. He swept up my abdomen and grazed the underside of my breasts. It felt way too damned good.

  "You’re my wife. You don’t need to fuck me to get what you want."

  "Who says we’re having sex?"

  I slid my legs shut and sat upright, watching Graham's frustration with savage pleasure. Only one thing kept me from launching into his arms—pride. He had me all those years ago, and he dumped me.

  If I’m so wonderful, why did he do that?

  Denying him was hell. Butterflies swarmed when we crossed paths, and my resistance to his charms barely held up. If I wanted more, it was up to me. Graham wouldn’t initiate anything until I made the first move. He didn’t want to hurt me.

  So I crawled onto his lap and linked my fingers behind his neck. Graham’s arms wrapped my waist, making a vice. His stubble grazed my cheek. He kissed the shell of my ear. "For the record, I enjoy having your tits in my face. What I don’t like is being teased."

  "Who’s teasing?"

  "You are," he growled. "I want you."

  I traced his lips, torn between the painful wound and the desire slicking my thighs. His forehead touched mine. Then he angled his neck and kissed me. The force of his kiss knocked me backward. He caught me, lowering me to the rug.

  Graham's weight pinned me down, but it was pure lust, not dominance. His tongue swiped my mouth. Heat spiraled my belly as he ground into me, his cock like iron. He stroked my body and grinned when he found me soaking wet. I arched my back when he thumbed my clit, and this was all wrong—all wrong.

  Graham should've been under my spell.

  I had to stop.

  "Wait." I broke from him and pushed his chest. "Wait."

  He hovered over me, confusion knitting his brows. "Naomi?"

  "I’m not feeling too great."

  If he sensed the lie, he didn’t show it. There was no guilt or accusation in his eyes.

  I couldn’t tell him the truth.

  Some wounds never healed.

  * * *

  Graham agreed to visit my dad the next
morning. I wanted him out from under Ethan's thumb, and that meant transferring him to a medical clinic outside of Blackwood Presbyterian.

  We approached my dad’s brownstone. I stopped on the sidewalk, picturing my father’s response when I told him Ethan and I were over. He wouldn’t be pleased.

  "Shit," I hissed. "I don’t know about this."

  Sunlight winked from the apartments, stroking Graham. His stubble was like specks of gold. "Second thoughts?"

  I faced him, dreading his reaction. "He likes Ethan. Perhaps we shouldn't go in as a couple."

  "We’re married. You’re wearing a different ring."

  I swallowed hard, looking through the bay windows. Dad had kept everything shuttered while he was on chemo, and the habit never disappeared.

  "My dad’s not going to take this well."

  Graham made a dismissing sound. "Dads love me."

  "Not in this scenario. You’re the home wrecker."

  "You were mine first." Graham took my arm, guiding me up the steps. "We don’t have to tell him everything. I’ll be tactful."

  "Okay."

  I released his hand. He knocked.

  Dad’s coughing echoed from inside. His weight creaked the ancient floorboards as he approached. The door cracked. A sliver of my father stared at Graham.

  Suspicion narrowed his gaze. "What do you want?"

  Jesus. "Hey, Dad."

  His grumpiness faded somewhat. "Hi, sweetie. What are you doing here?"

  "Oh, just visiting." I kept my voice light, but he frowned. "This is Graham Hawthorne."

  "I know who he is." Dad stepped out, not striking an imposing figure at his five-foot-seven frame. "Ethan told me that you beat him at their engagement party—"

  He dissolved into a coughing fit, a horrible hacking sound that wrenched my soul.

  I touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  "Fine."

  "There’s more to the story, Dad. Ethan threw the first punch." I avoided looking at Graham, who stayed at a respectful distance.

  Dad glared outrage at my husband. "What were you thinking, confronting a man at his engagement party?"

  "I missed my wife."

  Dad looked at me, shaking his head with a grim smile. His disappointment was a barbed wire twisting around my heart.

  What the hell had Ethan told him?

  "We need to change your doctor, Dad. Graham can help find us another oncology team."

  "No. I already have a great one." Dad sank into his recliner, irritated. "Ethan’s heartbroken."

  I exchanged a glance with Graham, who looked darkly amused. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. If anything, Ethan regretted his leniency on me.

  "Daddy, he’s fine."

  "You broke up and ran off with this guy." Dad sent another withering look at Graham. "Of course he's not fine. The boy’s distraught."

  I gaped at Dad. "What?"

  "He called me in tears."

  Motherfucking manipulative bastard.

  He probably used that soft, affected voice he sometimes adopted to lure me into a false sense of security. Ethan could be touching when he wanted to be. His chameleon charm fooled many couples' therapists, doctors, and friends. He listened intently to my dad rant about all manner of things, which made him Dad's favorite person.

  He manipulated everyone.

  Why did this surprise me? "Ethan called you in tears?"

  Graham broke the silence with a sharp laugh. He stifled the sound with his palm, but couldn’t hide the grin.

  "Pardon me." He snorted, turning away. "Really sorry."

  Dad’s face drained of color. "Are you laughing?"

  A very unconvincing no tumbled from Graham’s lips. His shoulders shook with barely suppressed mirth.

  I could’ve stabbed him.

  Thoroughly disgusted, Dad yanked himself from the recliner and approached my grinning husband.

  "What kind of sicko laughs at that?" Dad faced me, looking lost. "Honey, what are you doing?"

  "It’s complicated. I’ve wanted to leave Ethan for a while."

  "Why?" he asked, shocked. "You were together five years. I've never seen a man so in love."

  My husband stiffened, the smile wiped from his face. "You saw a master manipulator."

  "Shut the hell up."

  "Daddy." I groaned at them, pissed that Graham couldn’t set aside his hatred for one damned second.

  "I will not listen to your bullshit," he snapped. "He paid for my cancer treatments. He was there for my daughter. Held her hand during I don't know how many goddamned emergencies. Ethan's a good man, and I won't have you disrespecting him at my house!"

  "He did do all those things, and I'm grateful, but we aren’t together anymore." I watched my father’s disappointment grow with a sinking feeling. "Which means we need to get you different doctors."

  "No," he bristled. "I like the ones I have."

  "Your daughter is no longer Ethan’s responsibility. She’s mine. I’ll take care of everything from now on."

  "No, you won’t!"

  "Daddy, please don’t yell."

  He gestured toward Graham. "He’s an arrogant ass."

  Yes, he is.

  "Forget what you think of him," I blurted. "Just think about what he’s offering."

  "I’m fine with my oncology team." Dad glowered as I took his hands. "I mean it, Naomi. You can’t make me switch."

  Fuck.

  I stared at the man who was supposed to be my partner for help, and he finally stirred into action. "Dave—"

  "Mr. Watson," he snarled.

  "Mr. Watson. I have contacts at Sloan Kettering Cancer Center."

  "I don’t give a shit." My father walked to the foyer, breathing hard as he yanked the door. "Get out of my house."

  Graham inhaled deeply before stepping outside. I followed, blocking Dad’s view of him. "I didn’t mean to upset you."

  "I know. You’re always welcome here." Dad threw my husband a frown, implying he never would be. Then the door slammed.

  Graham descended the steps, hands buried in his pockets. A vein throbbed in his neck, the only sign that he was disturbed.

  I was pissed, too.

  I grabbed his arm. "You couldn’t have screwed this up more!"

  "Sorry," he hissed, not sounding remorseful at all. "I can’t cry on demand."

  "You shouldn’t have laughed."

  Graham grinned at my anger. "How was I not supposed to?"

  Unbelievable.

  He wouldn’t forget his stupid vendetta for one second. I powered down the sidewalk, ignoring him.

  "Naomi, come on! He sabotaged that meeting before we even got there."

  I whirled at him. "And you played right into his plans. Now what am I going to do?"

  "Nothing," he said, shrugging. "Your dad is in good hands at Blackwood Presbyterian. When Ethan stops paying the bills, I’ll pick up the tab."

  "It’s not that simple! He has my dad’s ear. He listens to whatever Ethan says." My grief at losing my father’s trust suddenly choked me. "I love my father, but taking care of him is exhausting."

  Graham took my waist, sighing. "He will be fine."

  "You don’t know that."

  "Let this go," he reasoned. "Your dad made his decision. I only did that song and dance because you batted your pretty eyes and said please." Graham’s mouth hovered inches from mine. "What’s next?"

  "The restaurant."

  Graham

  (Five Years Ago)

  "How long have you been dating?"

  I smiled at the waitress, who thought she was making polite conversation. Instead she’d accidentally addressed the elephant in the room.

  We were way too attached to be a fling.

  "I just proposed," I told her. "She doesn’t have a ring yet."

  "Oh, congratulations!" She smiled, looking genuinely happy for us both. "What a wonderful occasion!"

  "He’s joking," Naomi said with a roll of her eyes. "We only met a few days ago."


  I winked at my date. "Anything could happen."

  I enjoyed the darkening of her cheeks and her sarcastic smile. She had a good sense of humor. She was easy to please. Fun. I owed it to myself to make this more than a weekend.

  The server refilled our wine glasses and disappeared, leaving us to our meal. My appetite fizzled when Naomi looked up to grin. After tonight, I wasn’t sure if she’d ever do that again, and somehow that possibility became unbearable.

  "I’m ready to tell you everything."

  She stared at me. "Start with your last name."

  I had to decide—Let her in or shut her out. No NDA. No condom. No common sense. I’d already broken every rule. One more didn’t matter.

  I couldn’t hide who I was anymore.

  I reached across the tablecloth and grasped her hand. "I am taking a big risk, but I don’t care. I like you."

  Her smile became a puzzled frown. "What do you mean?"

  "I’m a Hawthorne."

  Naomi shrank from my touch, pupils going wide. "Oh."

  I was hoping she wouldn’t recognize the name, but any New York native worth their salt knew the Hawthornes. We had a reputation for paper-thin philanthropy, corruption, and organized crime.

  She slid her hand from my grasp, looking more horrified by the second.

  "You’ve spent hours with me, Naomi. You know I’m a good man." I leaned toward her, not willing to let this one slip from my fingers. "I’m not my family."

  She considered that. "That doesn’t mean you’re safe."

  "You’ve never been more protected. You just don’t realize it." I jerked my head toward the table beside ours. "The two men? My security. There’s more behind you."

  Naomi gaped at them. "This whole time?"

  "You didn’t notice them?"

  She said nothing, looking more embarrassed by the minute.