Page 18 of Reckless Love

“I’ve heard some rumblings,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral. Whatever fight Raul has brewing is his to wage.

When we got married, he made it very clear that I could build Reckless, but his businesses were to remain his. Our prenup definitely blocks me from having any control of his companies, and now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure if it also gives him ownership of Reckless too. His money and influence made this company what it is, even if I’m running it. And I’ve never questioned those clauses until right now. The fog that fell over me when I found out I was pregnant might have lingered longer than I thought.

“Your husband is using some really aggressive tactics to block workers from unionizing, and you’ve been such an amazing boss that it’s hard to believe you’d know about what he’s doing and not say anything. Not stop it.”

“How my husband chooses to run his businesses isn’t for me to say.” I start walking back toward the door to my office. “If that’s all…”

“He’s threatening—”

“I don’t know if you know,” I say, stopping close to the door and crossing my arms, “but the car I was traveling in with my son the other day was egged, and a roast was thrown so hard at the windshield of our moving car that it shattered the glass. As far as I can see, the only person in danger, and who has nothing to do with any of this, is me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but—”

“I can’t help you or them,” I say, steeling myself. Raul would never listen, even if I was inclined to say something to him. He thinks he knows best about everything.

Jenny seems taken aback for a moment before she nods. Most of the time, I try to be calm and reasonable in the office. While I love perfumes and colognes, I’ve had to learn a lot about marketing and scent profiles and a thousand other things since we got this company off the ground. Most of the time, I’m not the expert, I’m just the person with money and control. So I try not to act like an asshole to the people who do know things.

“I really thought you’d help,” Jenny whispers as she steps past me.

Rather than letting her go, I stride forward on instinct to reach for her, to apologize, but my heel gets caught on the rug again. A gasp of surprise comes out as the door clicks closed behind Jenny, and this time, I’m sure I’m not going to be able to keep myself from falling. I’m headed face first for the floor when I’m jerked back into a firm chest, a muscled forearm cinched around my waist.

“I’ve got you,” Stephen rasps into my ear, and a shiver races down my spine.

Chapter Seven

Ava

I’m not on the floor. Stephen caught me.

Instead of feeling relief that I’m not nursing a broken nose or wrist from trying to stop my fall, I suck in another sharp breath of surprise. For a second, I freeze, unable to think or move. But then I rotate in his arms, instinct taking over, and he lets me.

One solid arm is still around my waist, and his other hand hovers near my cheek where a few strands of hair have caught on my painted lips.

My breathing is shallow, as though I’ve been running, and when I look up into his eyes, I see the same thing I’m feeling reflected.

Desire. Uncertainty. Naked longing.

“Stephen,” I murmur, and I press closer. He doesn’t stop me, tightens his hold to close the gap.

On my cheek, his fingertips are the lightest touch as he frees the strands of hair from their sticky position on my lips.

This moment is everything I used to love so much about him. How he could be both so manly and yet so gentle, so tender. This giant who could toss me over his shoulder, order me around, make me come so hard I’d scream from the pleasure, but also a man who could curl around me as we made love, make me feel so precious, so protected, a flower he’d never want to crush.

The realization of what I had, what I lost, is a slice across my heart. I never thought he’d leave me. How could he leave me?

Unable to resist, I run my thumb across the little scars on his cheek, and he closes his eyes at my touch. Being back in his arms makes me realize that my lungs collapsed when he left, became incapable of a deep inhale and exhale, and it’s only now, with him, that I’ve discovered the cure, the medicine I’ve needed to refill my lungs. It’s amazing, really, that something as simple as being held again as though I’m cared for can shift my perception so thoroughly. Pure oxygen seeping deep.

“How did you get these?” I whisper.

His eyes snap open, and he releases me so suddenly that I almost stumble again. His hand snakes out and secures my elbow to stop me from falling. As soon as it’s clear I’ve got my feet under me, a single moment at most, he opens my office door and walks out, drawing it closed behind him with a cool calmness that shows how thoroughly he’s closed himself off again, as though we never shared anything at all.

The moment in my office keeps replaying over the next few days. Stephen is even more cautious about spending any time alone with me, and I haven’t had the guts to push him. When we were younger, I never questioned my compulsion to draw him into my orbit again and again. Any time he escaped, I knew I’d get him back. Our ongoing game with each other—I’d run and he’d chase, or he wouldn’t chase and I’d go after him. To me, that was just what we were, who we were. I never questioned how on and off we were because even when we were off, I felt like we were still on but with the brightness dimmed.

We’re not on a dimmer anymore. He’s switched us off, and the other day was the first time I saw a flicker from him. The urge to play with the wires, see if I can get a spark, even if it shocks me, is dangerous. My life would burn down around me, and if the only person who got singed was me, I’d do it. If getting Stephen was the result, I’d gladly stand in the ashes of the last six years of my life.

But I’ve got Landon and all the people at Reckless that I have to consider. In Stephen’s absence, I built the kind of life where my actions have consequences for others, and I married a man whose pride would never let me out unscathed.

Even still, as I watch Stephen head for the door again at the end of another shift, another day where I’m just a job to be completed, the part of me I’ve tried so hard to bury yearns to follow him. To beg for something I can’t even articulate. His attention? His affection? His love?