Faithless

Whitney

“Did you have any more questions?” Stephen asks.

Wow, he’s a good-looking man with his inky dark eyes and square jaw. How am I just now realizing it after we’ve spent the last hour together? I suppose I’ve been in my head until now.

I lift my hand and tuck a strand of hair behind my ears. “No, that pretty much covers it.” I manage a polite smile, even though my lips are trembling.

His eyes soften, and he leans forward. “Can I get you anything before you leave? Something to drink?”

I huff out an almost hysterical giggle. “Do you have any vodka?”

His smile warms his entire face. My lord, this man is attractive. “Unfortunately, no.” He leans forward. “You’re doing great, Whitney. It’s normal to be anxious. This is a big life change. One of the biggest there is.”

I manage a jerky nod. Why does my name on his lips make my stomach flutter?

Now is not the time to think about dating, and this man may be close to my age, but he has Mark’s level of attractiveness, and the world always favors older men. He’s probably drawing from the same dating pool where Mark finds all of his mistresses. They’re probably all influencers and servers in their mid-twenties.

Oh God, what is this physical ache in my chest? Where is it coming from? I’d become so numb to Mark’s affairs. Why is the divorce resurrecting this long-ago buried pain?

Maybe it’s because I know that one of those mid-twenty-somethings will own him soon. She’ll get his worshipful looks and affectionate kisses. She’ll probably even be called his darling girl like I used to be.

No. I can’t think about it.

I manage a tight smile while I grab the stack of papers in front of me. “Thank you. That’s comforting to hear from someone who deals with this every day.”

I’m so in my head on my way back home the ten-minute drive passes by in an instant. As soon as I open the door to our house, Mark is standing right in front of me. I gasp and step back. “Are you on your way out?”

He shakes his head. “I heard the garage. I need to talk to you about something.”

I avert my gaze. “I’m not telling you anything about my meeting today.”

Even without seeing his face, I know his jaw is clenching, and his eyes are boring into me. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe not directly.”

“Not at all.” He can’t keep the bite out of his voice. He takes a deep breath, and I can feel him trying as hard as he can to regain control. “I need you to come with me to an event tomorrow night.”

I whip my head in his direction. My eyes roam his face as I try to gauge his expression, and what I see makes nervousness flutter in my stomach.

Oh God.

He’s determined.

He’s going to do anything in his power to keep me.

I swallow. “What event? We didn’t have anything on the calendar.”

“I had Lily RSVP for a few we weren’t planning on making.” He takes a step in my direction. “You said you were willing to go to these until we announce our separation.”

When I clench my jaw and lift a brow, he smiles.

“And you said you were going to look for a place to live.”

That smile stays fixed. “I am looking.”

“Taking your sweet time.” I roll my eyes. “How many of these parties are you expecting me to go to before we separate?”

He shrugs. “Just the few that come up.”

“This won’t work,” I say, though my voice isn’t nearly as strong as I want it to be.

“What won’t work?” His smile is fixed.

I take a deep breath. “You know what I mean.”

He shrugs. “I really don’t. You’ve always been a charmer with my clients. Why wouldn’t I use your skills to my advantage while I still can?”

My nostrils flare. “You told me after the Esposito party that I was too ‘friendly’ with the CFO…” My brow knits. “What was his name?”

His smile falters. “Anthony Mariano.”

Wow, that worked. All it took was one little jab for him to reveal that he doesn’t want me “using my skills,” as he calls it. What a condescending way to describe making insipid conversation with an insincere smile planted on my face. Good lord, he’s desperate.

I smile. “He was very handsome and recently divorced. Maybe I should give him a call when we finally announce—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

I flinch at the abruptness of the words. When I look up at his face, his expression has completely changed. His jaw is set, and his eyes are almost wild.

He takes a step back and takes a shaky breath. His gaze drops to the floor. “We’ll be leaving at six thirty. The party’s at El Encanto. Cocktail attire.”

With that, he turns around and marches out of the kitchen.

My heart squeezes in my chest, and I hate myself for it. I should long be over Mark’s irrational jealousy. It used to break my heart to see it, because I could sense the deep pain behind it.

Now it’s just a reflex, something he can’t get over because he feels entitled to my fidelity.

One mistake—however grave—put me under his power forever, in his mind.

He’s going to find out that’s not the case.