Page 27 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Fiona

Soon after Bryce walks out, the doorbell rings. I shrug— ow! —into a bathrobe, all my muscles protesting, and then stand up.

My legs almost give out. Thank God Bryce isn’t here to witness this. His head would never be able to squeeze through any door. The bathroom mirror shows hickeys all over my neck and chest. I pull my hair forward, then yank the lapels tighter to hide the red marks.

The second I open the door, a uniformed server pushes in a beautiful cart laden with spotless, shiny silver domes.

The elderly man opens each with a flourish, only to reveal a bowl of cornflakes and a jug of milk in a gorgeous crystal jug.

There is also a small bowl of fresh berries and whipped cream on the side and a fresh pitcher of coffee.

“I didn’t order this,” I say, crossing my arms. I still sound hoarse, and I wince inwardly. Given how much I screamed last night, it would’ve taken a miracle for me not to damage my voice.

“Mr. Huxley did.” The man hands me a lavender silk and satin satchel. “And some Epsom salts for you.” He shows me a slip, and I scrawl my name on the paper.

I keep my arms folded and stare at the food and Epsom salts with apprehension. What’s this about? Act nice and confuse the opponent?

If it is, he’s succeeded. I am completely confused. He talks like a complete asshole, then does little unexpected things like this. Like the cereal in his house. Like having clothes and shoes for me delivered to his place.

And last night, he clung to me desperately, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Then he cajoled, wheedled and coaxed me all night long, trying to get me to kiss him, growing more determined each time I turned away.

It’s almost as though he needed some sort of confirmation that I still care about him.

If I’d sensed even a hint of vindictiveness in his dark gaze, I might’ve scoffed and pushed him away.

But he seemed sincere without the usual shield he put up around him—or the asshole-worthy snarks.

When he looked wounded at yet another rejection, I almost forgot myself and kissed his eyes.

Don’t, I tell myself. It wasn’t Bryce—it was the drugs talking.

Whatever he had last night must’ve taken down his inhibitions.

Part of me wants to believe his behavior under the influence last night was the real deal, but I’m not gambling with my emotional wellbeing.

It took a lot of therapy and healing to feel normal after leaving Cambridge.

And although I’d like to believe I’m stronger after the ordeal, it isn’t entirely true.

Whatever is keeping the fragments of my heart together now isn’t strong enough to withstand another onslaught.

Exhaling, I sit down and start on the cereal, remembering when we first met.

It’s so silly how I thought maybe my life could be different just because Bryce said, “You don’t seem like Finn.

The name doesn’t fit you somehow.” Such a small thing, but in that moment I felt seen—like I wasn’t just Finley’s shadow, just a tool to soothe Sherry’s pain.

I didn’t realize until then how uncomfortable and stifled I’d been, living in that identity.

And on our first date, I automatically ordered grilled halibut, but Bryce noticed I’d eyed a steak and baked potato on the next table and asked if I didn’t really want that instead.

That was when I realized I didn’t even let myself like things unless Finley had loved them too.

And it was also the first time anyone had told me to take what I wanted.

My heart melted. I think that’s when I started to really fall for him, because he didn’t measure me against Finley. I was just Fiona.

Tears prickle my eyes. It was the most wonderful time of my life, when I felt loved…except it shattered at the end .

You never deserved that kind of love.

I wipe the tears away and laugh at myself.

Yeah. Who am I to think I could do better?

If Finley hadn’t drowned, nobody would’ve looked at me twice.

I would’ve been passed from one foster home after another and probably fallen through the cracks like so many unwanted kids.

Or gotten abused by some asshole like that man my first adoptive parents whispered about.

I finally managed to get out of the toxic situation and went to Wisconsin.

But now I’ve been dragged back, where things are so much worse than before.

Zachary told me the harder I worked, the better my life would be.

But in my experience, it’s the opposite.

The harder I work, the worse my situation becomes.

I sip coffee to wash away the bitter taste in my mouth and check my phone. Nothing from the loan sharks. How strange . Aren’t they eager to get their money back? Why so silent now?

Maybe they got arrested by the police. Or better yet, run over by a truck…

Three knocks at the door. I sigh. What did Bryce send now? I put down my phone and open the door. “You should tell Mr. Huxley—”

“Finally!”

Aaron!

My heart in my throat, I try to slam the door in his face, but he’s faster. He pushes the door open, shoving me hard as he invades the suite.

“You stupid— Argh! What the fuck were you thinking running away from the wedding? Do you know what kind of trouble you’ve caused? You fucked me over! ” Aaron screams, spittle flying everywhere.

He doesn’t seem to be exaggerating his predicament. He sports circles so dark, they look like black eyes. His cheeks are sunken. There are lines on his forehead that weren’t there before, and no razor has touched his face in days.

His wrinkled suit is the same as the one from the wedding, just dingier—he probably hasn’t changed, either.

I stare in shock, registering only half his screaming. It isn’t like him to overlook grooming. Aaron cares way too much about his appearance.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Probably did something shady and won’t admit to it. “You can’t hide from me. I’m much smarter and more resourceful.”

Of course. “I told your loan shark I’d pay.” I say the words slowly, trying to hide my impatience and irritation and get through to him.

He spins toward me, his fists tight and shaking. “Don’t lie to me!” he screams. “They came for me at the house just this morning, while Mom was at a temple to pray.” His red-rimmed eyes glare at me. “I was left alone to fend for myself! It was so unfair .”

I blink. His nostrils flare. He breathes hard. Not a hint of relief that Sherry was spared the scene. Just fury because he undoubtedly had to grovel to avoid getting his knees broken or something.

What’s happened to him since college? I don’t recognize my adoptive brother anymore. Although Aaron was never nice to me, he was always a good son. He strove to meet his father’s lofty expectations and humor his mother to keep her depression and emotional outbursts at bay.

The Aaron I knew would never have been this self-centered. What little respect I had for him dies.

“It’s your debt,” I remind him impassively. “Sherry has nothing to do with it.”

“So? She’s my mom. She has some money set aside that she could use to help me out.” He sounds betrayed. “I just found out.”

My shoulders sag with relief. She’ll be able to maintain a decent lifestyle. The woman’s powerless and wouldn’t know what to do if she had to earn her own money. “Well, good. But it’s her money, not yours.”

“I’m her son! I deserve that money!”

“She deserves to live out the rest of her life in dignity, Aaron!”

His face reddens with guilt and embarrassment, but his eyes glint with resentment. He hates it when I act like a daughter to his mother because I’m “trying to replace Finley in Sherry’s heart.” He conveniently forgets that it was his father who brought me in to do just that.

“Why are you so upset, anyway?” I keep my tone calm to avoid escalation. “I was the one marrying a monster, remember?”

He glares at me. “Jude’s no monster.”

“If you like him so much, you marry him. ”

“Shut up, dumbass!” Aaron points a finger in my face.

“You’re going to go to him, get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness.

He was nice and sentimental enough to agree to marry you because of shared memories.

But now, he’ll probably just keep you as a mistress or something.

” He shakes his head, muttering something about pearls and swine.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Yes, you will.” He grips my arm and starts pulling me toward the door.

I dig my heels in. “Stop it! What’s wrong with you?”

“You asking me what’s wrong? You fucked up the wedding and you now want me dead! Jesus, my life is worth more than two million! Jude’s being gracious by offering to pay that much for your body. It isn’t like you’re a virgin.”

“Oh my God! Medieval much?”

“Shut up. You owe it to my dad for giving you a home!” He tightens his hold and yanks me to the door.

“No!” I try to pull away, but he’s much too strong. I scratch his hand hard enough to leave red marks, but he’s beyond caring.

“We can do it the easy way or the hard way,” he grinds out. “Your choice.”

“What the hell kind of choice is that?” I shoot back, fury and helplessness overpowering my senses.

He twists my arm up behind my back. A burning sensation shoots along my upper arm and scapula. I cry out.

“Wow,” a woman’s voice says. “Is that the easy way? What would be the hard way? I might be able to learn a thing or two.”

Aaron and I freeze, his hand still holding my arm in a painful lock. He loosens it slightly, not letting go, but the pain eases, thank God. I glance sideway at the person who interrupted, not all that hopeful.

The door is somehow open, and a fortyish brunette in a fashionably tight blue dress is standing in the doorway. She doesn’t seem willing to help me. She actually seems to be entertained.

She leans closer. Her blue eyes glow with unholy interest, and the smile is a bit too wide. A dangerous vibe emanates from her.