Page 41 of Reckless Love

“Oh, no,” I say, holding out my arms, and he scrambles into my lap. “Do you need some mommy cuddles?”

“Can you come lie with me?” he asks.

“Now?” I glance at the board and then try to catch Stephen’s gaze.

“I need to do my perimeter checks.” Stephen reaches over and ruffles Landon’s hair. “You sleep tight, buddy.”

“See you in the morning light,” Landon says.

I rise from my seat a little wobbly with Landon perched on my hip.

“Do you need help with him?” Stephen’s hand lands on my elbow.

“No,” I say. “I’m used to his weight. I’ll be fine.”

We stare at each other, and I wonder if he’s realizing what I am—that this is likely to be our last discussion without other people around. The intimacy that’s returned so easily between us since Raul went on his trip leaves when my husband walks back in the door. Even thinking the word “husband” in relation to Raul feels wrong—like I’m living someone else’s life.

God, what have I done?

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says to me before grabbing the security system and heading toward the front entrance.

Part of me wants to call him back, to remind him the checks are unnecessary, that he just told me the danger had passed, but the truth is, it’s probably better that he walked away because another danger was looming, one of my own making.

Raul returns in a cloud of anger and impatience, and as I watch Stephen’s broad back slip through our front door for the last time, my stomach churns with all the words I didn’t say, couldn’t say when I had the chance. Honestly, they’re words I should never say, since I pledged my allegiance to someone else.

“What’s going on?” I ask, even though I know because Stephen told me.

“The Nile unionized,” he says with a huff while he pours himself a drink. “Security details are all canceled. They got what they wanted. For now, at least.”

Landon does a somersault across our huge couch, and Raul glares at him before gulping down his drink. When Landon does a second one, Raul says, “Our furniture isn’t a playground. You want to do that, you go outside.”

“He’s not hurting anything,” I say.

“Are you paying for that couch to be replaced?”

I bristle. I hate when he acts like I don’t have money. Don’t have access to just as much as him, at least for personal expenses. To start the company, I needed his help, but that’s it.

“I can,” I say. “I could buy us a hundred couches for this house if I wanted to.”

“And then sell them for half price to raise funds for your company? I know how your girl math works. Not exactly a successful strategy for you in the past, was it?”

“I don’t understand why you always have to try to tear me down to make yourself feel better.”

“You’re right,” he says without actually apologizing. “Go put on something nice.” He rakes his gaze down the simple but expensive skirt, heels, and blouse I still have on from being at the office. “Nicer.”

He means sexier. Raul appreciates me best when my external assets are on display. Unlike some men, he doesn’t subscribe to the notion that I need to be buttoned up, since we’re married. He wants other men to want me. The more they want me the better it makes him feel that he has me.

“Why am I getting dressed up?” I ask, eyeing the bottle of scotch and contemplating a drink. While Raul was gone, I didn’t touch a drop.

“I made us a dinner reservation at Café Plutus,” he says, draining another drink. “Darling, don’t tell me you forgot our anniversary?”

I flush at the reminder. Since Stephen showed up at the house weeks ago, I’ve been spiraling in big ways and small. I’m not even sure I know what day of the week it is—Nancy keeps having to remind me of simple things at work. It’s like my brain is short-circuiting, no longer capable of holding logic and emotion in separate compartments.

“I have some things to take care of first, so you can drop Landon off with Gage and Ember. I’ll meet you there. My secretary arranged it all.”

“Right,” I say, my voice tight. Ember hates it when Raul’s secretary calls her to arrange anything. My husband’s arrogance and entitlement bleed into everyone he works with. Both Gage and I have told Raul he can’t have his secretary call Ember—who has her own handbag design company and is actually quite busy—and decree what’s happening, and yet here we are. We could pay for someone to look after Landon, but I balk at an evening nanny when this should be our time with our son, whereas Raul thinks family should take care of each other, even though he never offers to watch anyone else’s kids. “What time is the reservation?”

“Whenever we get there,” he says. “I booked the best table from open to close.”