Page 38 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Bryce

Barry pounces the second I step out of the elevator. “I can’t believe you got married without telling me!”

It feels like an old Twilight Zone episode. “How the hell—?” I ask, striding down the long hall to reach my office.

He follows. “Paola just called.”

“That was quick, even for her.”

“She’s just happy she won the money,” he says sourly.

“Oh, that betting pool?”

“Yeah. I lost.” He scowls. “The least you could have done was warn me.”

I snort. “Imagine me playing the world’s tiniest violin.”

“You’re so damn cruel. Hey, how about a post-bachelor party?”

“And have my wife stab me the moment I get home from it? No thanks.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“Women always know.” I gesture to the office and the building at large. “This firm runs on women who know. Speaking of which, why is the floor so quiet?” I frown as I look around to locate the reason I had to come in. “Where’s Bebe? I should’ve heard her scream from miles away. ”

“Jeremiah kicked her out. Threatened to sue her if she wouldn’t shut up. Then told her to make an appointment.”

“She did? Huh… She’s rarely that nasty.”

“She’s in a mood.” He lowers his voice. “Apparently one of her clients misrepresented some pertinent facts, and it really fucked things up for the case.”

I shudder. My aunt hates losing, and if the misrepresentation costs her the case, she’ll murder the client. My phone pings, and I check the message.

–Dad: My office. NOW.

“Gotta go. Partner calls.” I wave at Barry and head to Dad’s office on the next floor.

As a senior partner at Huxley & Webber, my dad has one of the nicest corner offices, with a fantastic view of the city. In a few years I’ll get one, too, but I’ll keep my old furniture because it’s comfortable and functional.

Dad’s seated at his massive mahogany desk with a sleek laptop and some papers on top. Expensively cropped dark hair frames his confident face. A bespoke black three-piece suit—a gift from Akiko last Christmas—and a muted blue tie completes his legal shark look.

His dark eyebrows are pulled together. Under them, his wide-set, pale gray eyes gleam with calculation as he gazes at me over steepled fingers.

“Have a seat.” He tilts his head at one of the cushy armchairs. His voice is, as usual, modulated. He has a booming voice that would make any stage actor envious, but he rarely uses it at full volume, because he thinks that raising your voice equals admitting defeat.

I take the seat and prop an ankle over the opposite knee, then wait for him to start.

“You aren’t where Ares was. There won’t be a promotion to partnership,” he says flatly.

“I know.” I shrug.

His frown grows darker. “So why did you suddenly elope? You didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell anybody. I had to hear it from Eric.”

So Judge Mansfield made a call. I expected Paola to gossip with lawyers at the firm, but not him.

It doesn’t matter. My goal was to get people here talking about my revised marital status. Mom undoubtedly has spies at the firm. Although Huxley & Webber thoroughly screens everyone’s background, including janitorial staff, nothing’s foolproof.

“Do you know how it made me feel to realize you’d gotten married without telling anybody?” Dad continues. “Not to mention Akiko! She’s hurt.”

“Mom was going to hurt my wife, Fiona,” I say somberly. “I had no choice.”

At the mention of Mom, Dad stiffens. “That bitch.”

“Mom’s after me. Vincent is apparently much sicker than we thought—at least sick enough to put family first.”

“Really? Too bad he isn’t dead yet,” Dad says.

“Agreed.” I fill him in briefly on what Harvey told me. Dad’s face turns red, green, then back to red. “Anyway, marrying Fiona gives us some protection against Mom’s machinations.”

Dad heaves a sigh, his shoulders slouching. “I’m sorry, son. If I hadn’t been so blinded by love back then…” He rubs his forehead. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t, Dad. If you hadn’t met her, you wouldn’t have created us. Do you regret that too?”

He snaps his head up. “No. Never. You and your brothers are the greatest accomplishments of my life.”

I smile with affection and understanding. “Look, you’ve always done the best you could. None of us blame you for what happened. That’s all on Mom.”

“Thanks.” He tries to smile, but lets out another heavy sigh instead.

I clench and unclench my hands. How I loathe Mom for dragging the family down after twenty-two years.

“Your grandmother wants to meet your wife,” Dad says.

“I’ll check my calendar.”

“Ah, no, Akiko is hosting dinner tonight. Bring her.”

I bite back a groan. “Tonight? But it’s Fiona’s birthday.”

I was going to give her a surprise lunch until Amélie said Bebe was acting up in the office and nothing short of my presence would calm her.

If we have dinner with Akiko, we’ll end up starving.

Besides, I don’t know how Fiona’s going to feel about meeting my family so quickly when our marriage is temporary.

Although I told her it was for two years, I don’t plan to stick to the timeline.

It’s going to end when Mom’s out of the picture…

and I no longer feel that weird pinch in my heart every time I think of Fiona and I quit getting erections around her.

That shouldn’t take two years, so introducing her to the family seems like a type of fraud.

On the other hand, keeping her away from the family would look sketchy as hell to Mom.

“Fine. I’ll tell her to make a cake,” Dad says gruffly.

“It’d be better if you just told her to make bigger portions.”

Dad gives me an expression full of mournful regret. An honest reaction, since he would never show that he’s unhappy with Akiko’s food. “She seems to believe if I have more than three bites, I’m going to get diabetes, hypertension, heart attack and a stroke all at the same time.”

I snort. “At the rate things are going, you’ll outlive us all. Just tell her not to labor so much in the kitchen. Since we’re pressed for time, it’ll be best if she orders a few pizzas instead.”

Longing fleets over his face, but almost as quickly as it appears, he shakes it off, glaring at me. “Stop whining. You’ll eat what she makes.”

* * *

I step inside my office and do a double take. I step back out and glance at Amélie, who gives me an I-did-my-best shrug. Shaking my head, I stride inside and shut the door, then face my brothers.

Ares is propped against the edge of my desk, giving me a dark look that’s all disapproving eyes and an even more disapproving, flat mouth. Josh, on the other hand, paces like a caged panther, clenching and unclenching his hands, face red and looking ready to explode.

I’m not fooled. Ares is the one about to have a volcanic eruption of a temper tantrum, while Josh is managing his fury by pacing.

“How could you?” Ares says as he pushes himself off the desk to stand straight.

I knew it .

“What were you thinking?” he says. “Did she infect you with some kind of brain parasite?”

Josh keeps pacing, nodding in agreement with everything coming out of Ares’s mouth.

I shrug. “I already told you I didn’t want the guilt—”

“The hell with guilt! She didn’t feel guilty when she fucked Jude Morven in your bed! ” Tendons stand out in Ares’s neck. He’s barely restraining himself from screaming.

I’d applaud his control, but he’s salting a wound that hasn’t healed yet. I inhale deeply to control the raw pain. “Ares, I know you mean well, but Fiona’s my wife now.”

His face scrunches with disgust.

Josh stops and turns to me. His mouth opens. I know what he’s about to ask before he says the first word. “Can you—”

“An annulment is out of the question. It’s either this or dealing with Mom’s women and drugs.”

“You could marry somebody else,” Ares says.

“I’m not marrying a stranger.” The very idea of a stranger living in my home makes my skin crawl.

“This won’t stop Mom, not really. She’s going to escalate,” Josh says.

“Tag-teaming me, are you?”

“It’s not tag-teaming. It’s just stating the truth,” my twin adds.

I narrow my eyes. “Okay. Do you want Mom to force me to make a baby so she can ingratiate herself with Vincent?”

“Of course not, but—”

“You realize it’s rape, right?”

Ares and Josh stop, both shocked. “What?”

“That’s what I said too. But Fiona pointed it out to me.

If Mom tries to force me to have sex with women I don’t want, and especially if she uses drugs, it’s rape.

Like date rape. I’m not consenting, right?

” I rub my face, weary. “We’re so fucked up that we don’t even recognize some of what she does as abuse.

We’re just so worried about her doing something worse.

In some messed-up way, I guess being drugged and forced to be an insemination machine is better than being kidnapped or left to die in a fire. ”

Ares’s expression shifts, softening a little, but then he quickly juts his chin. “All right, fair point. Still, I’m not on board with you marrying Fiona.”

“Neither am I.” Josh’s voice lacks its earlier heat, but his brow is still knitted. “What if she betrays you again?”

“I doubt she’ll side with Mom. She didn’t make the best impression.”

Josh scoffs. “It isn’t like Jude was known as Mr. Charming back then either.”

“The hardest thing in dealing with people is that you can never know what they’re really thinking,” Ares says. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He gives me a pointed look. “Again.”

I nod. “I know. I appreciate it, but give her a chance, okay?”

“She never even apologized,” Josh grumbles.

“She did.”

Surprise crosses his face.

“So let’s be civil at dinner tonight.”

Ares bites back a curse. “Fine. I’ll try, but if she does anything to hurt you again, I’m going to kill her.”

“Unless I kill her first,” Josh says.

My brothers look at me like they’re expecting some reassurance that she won’t, but all I can manage is a blank smile. It dawns on me that even though she apologized, I’m never going to be certain of her unless I know what made her betray me in the first place.