Page 46 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Bryce

“Bryce, your uncle is on the line,” comes Amélie’s voice on the intercom.

I stop in the middle of reviewing a memo one of the junior associates drafted.

“My uncle? Who?” There’s only one person who calls me at the firm and has the nerve to claim to be my uncle.

But Ted Lasker has no business with me. The last I heard, he was busy trying to convince Aunt Jeremiah to sue some rival of his.

“Someone named Harvey Dunkel,” Amélie clarifies. “You never told me you had—”

“Five minutes.” Normally I’d decline, but it’s time to resolve the matter of “the gift” he gave my wife. I put him on speaker and lean back in my chair, my fingers steepled.

“You and Fiona are a stubborn pair,” he says, his voice gravelly.

“And you are a persistent pest.”

He snorts. “Is that how you speak to your uncle? Show some respect to your elders,” he chides me, although there’s no heat. He doesn’t expect me to give a shit about him or anybody from his side of the family.

“Earn it first,” I say flatly. “But first cash the fucking check!” I delivered it international express with tracking to his “official” address in Nesovia, and he sent it back. Twice . Bastard.

“Why do you insist on rejecting my gift?”

“Because inside the pretty wrapping is a ticking time bomb.”

“I’m not like your mother.”

I stiffen. “You want to use me—and Fiona—as much as she does. My wife doesn’t need to be indebted to anyone.”

“You don’t think I can be altruistic?” He sounds hurt, which only makes me want to laugh.

“No. If you had the chance, you would’ve killed your other brother before Mom could. You’re that kind of asshole.”

He ignores my jab. “What do you think I’ll ask for in return?”

“Don’t know and don’t care. Neither does my wife. You stay away from us, Harvey.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I can make things very difficult for you.”

He laughs. “You threatening to side with Zoe ?”

“Don’t think that’ll be necessary. But maybe I should just go ahead and visit Vincent on my own, and convince him to disown both of you. He’s gotta be sick of your antics by now, and I can help him draft the paperwork.”

A sharp edge slips underneath Harvey’s seeming bonhomie. “You think it’s easy to take over an operation as large and complex as what the family controls?”

“Can’t be any harder than dealing with you. Accept the check, Harvey, or I’m telling Vincent you abused my wife.”

“That’s a fucking lie!”

“One of many that have been told in this whole thing.” I hang up, then instruct Amélie to block all calls from Harvey.

I finish reviewing the document, then sigh. I don’t have anything to do. I should probably go home, but I keep hesitating. I hate it that I begged Fiona to kiss me, begged her for what little crumbs of affection she could spare.

Humiliation burns, and I resist an urge to tunnel my fingers into my hair and scream and kick. Just what the hell was I thinking? This was supposed to be about sex, not about me embarrassing myself. She made herself crystal clear when she dropped to her knees instead.

Too intimate. It’s almost like I like you .

I haven’t been able to bear facing her since then. How would she look at me? With pity and contempt, most likely. Her eyes would say, I didn’t know you could be so craven .

At the same time, I can’t stay away from her indefinitely. We share a home. We have rules.

Besides, I keep thinking about what she said: Sometimes a relationship isn’t about what you see in the other person. It was just…really complicated .

What kind of complication would make her stay with a guy who left her dry as a bone for two years?

It wasn’t like he was good to her outside of bed.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed how badly Jude treated her.

The only thing anyone could think of was that he must be a stud in bed for her to stick with him, especially since she didn’t even need money.

I stare at the clock on my laptop, then finally close it and stand up.

Damn it, it’s my house. I shouldn’t have to avoid it.

As for Fiona’s remark, I’ll just find a good opportunity to broach the topic and ask her to explain.

She probably wasn’t in the mood to go into it earlier.

We were both overwrought, and I wasn’t in the most receptive mode at the time.

My mind made up, I head out. The underground garage is half-full.

I spot the red Lamborghini, as usual taking up two spaces rather than one near the elevator.

Can never decide if Aunt Jeremiah does it just for giggles or because she’s really that terrible at parking.

It’s incongruent given how capable she is and how much she loves the law.

I stride past it to my Maybach. I left the Ferrari, Lamborghini and Maserati in the garage for Fiona should she need to go out.

“Bryce Emmanuel Huxley!”

I freeze at the nightmarish shriek. It can’t be Mom, it can’t —

The sound of shoes rapidly slapping concrete echoes through the garage. “ How could you marry that whore? She works for Harvey!”

I turn to see Mom running toward me. Her blue eyes glow with a wildness that chills my blood.

I feel like I’m back twenty-two years ago.

She radiated the same zealous determination when she tried to kidnap me.

I clench my hands to stop the fine tremor from starting.

Mom will never see how she affects me, never.

“He’s making her do his bidding for two million dollars!” she says shrilly.

“You need better spies.” I stand up straight. “And Fiona’s not a whore, she’s my wife. Show some respect.”

“I’m your mother !” she says, stopping in front of me.

The reminder makes me want to strangle her.

If there weren’t any security cameras in the garage, I might actually do it.

“I don’t give a shit who or what you are.

What are you going to do?” My voice shakes with rage and the old guilt that I’m the reason Ares couldn’t escape her.

“Kidnap me and try to burn me alive, like you did to Ares?”

Mom goes pale. “That was an accident !”

“Accident, my ass! He’s completely fucked in the head because of you. I’m a mess because of what you’ve done!”

“ I love you! ” she screams as though saying it louder will make it true and excuse all her madness. “I did it for us—for our family! I thought you’d understand. You’ve always been a good boy! Understanding and sweet and—”

Familiar fury surges at the tired defense. “Stop trying to manipulate me! I’m not your good-boy puppet anymore! Everything you did ruined this family !” I bite out. “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to us!”

She staggers like I actually did hit her. But the shock fades almost immediately, replaced by wrath. Her face goes crimson. She slaps me hard enough to turn my head.

My cheek burns, and the corner of my mouth stings. I run the pad of my thumb over the spot and see blood. “So much for love.”

“It’s your fault. I’m doing my job as your mother to discipline you.”

“Mother?” I laugh at her. “You haven’t been my mother since the day you decided to kidnap us.”

She pales. “Bryce—”

“Don’t ever approach me again. Or my wife.”

“And if I do?”

“I’ll kill you,” I say quietly.

She sneers. “You wouldn’t dare. You and the rest of the goody two-shoes men in the family can’t do anything out of the box. Gotta toe the line, don’t you? You’ve always been a rule follower. A perfect child. ”

“Yeah, you’re right. I love rules—know them all by heart, including dozens of ways I can get off on technicalities,” I say.

“I fantasized about it while studying at Harvard Law. Had a lot of time to think about it, figure out the best way, just like you.” I take half a step forward, getting in her face.

“You might think you’re tough, but that only works with a loser like Aaron. Not me.”

Mom’s chest heaves as she glares at me. Resentment flashes in her eyes as she realizes she can’t control me like she used to. I don’t buy into her vision of the family. I’m no longer her “good boy.”

“You aren’t invincible,” she says finally. “You have weaknesses.”

The way her mouth twists with bitterness brings forth the image of my wife in shock and pain after meeting my mother. “If you ever appear in front of my wife again, I’ll break your legs. If you touch her, I’ll break your hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Try me, Mother.”

She gives me a hard stare. I meet it squarely, unblinking. As the moments pass, her face scrunches. “Oh my God . You have feelings for that bitch, don’t you?”

My eyebrow twitches. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” Mom lets out a mocking laugh. “You care about your wife so much, you want me to give her respect. Give her space .” She glares like I just plunged a knife into her heart.

I grimace, not wanting to admit that she’s right about anything. But what else explains my reaction to Fiona?

Would it be better if I deluded myself? No . I don’t believe in living a lie, no matter how pretty and convenient. Fuck .

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll say it again: stay the hell away from me— and Fiona—or next time it won’t just end with a warning.”