Page 8 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Fiona

The guards aren’t rough as they drag me out of Bryce’s office, but they aren’t exactly gentle either.

They take me to the staircase, make me walk down twenty-six floors—they’re so damn fit that they do it without breathing hard—pull me through the lobby and finally deposit me on the street outside the Huxley & Webber building like a piece of trash.

They probably don’t normally drag unwanted guests out with such enthusiasm and thoroughness.

Likely Bryce instructed them to do it, and if I go back to get my shoe, it’ll be a repeat of the humiliating scene.

Bryce has changed so much since graduating from Harvard.

Sharper-edged, more aloof—meaner. But all that is hidden underneath an even more beautiful package—the stunning dark gray eyes that I can’t look away from, and the broader and more powerful frame under the expensive outfit and accessories worn like armor.

But even if he wore rags, you’d think twice before approaching him.

There’s a force of will and presence that say back off … or pay the price.

Well, I paid the price.

Despite the Los Angeles sun, I’m chilled to the bone and can’t quit shaking. None of the banks wanted to lend me a penny. Nothing could be used as collateral. The family is broke.

When I realized I was out of options, Bryce was the only one I could think of to turn to. Not that he’d help me out of kindness, but he made that promise. Although I have lied to him and treated him badly, I always knew he was honorable, the type to keep a promise no matter what.

Guess I was wrong.

I raise my shaking hands and claw at the top button of my blouse, needing more air. The collar’s so restricting… Bryce thought I was offering him my body— as if! —but I couldn’t breathe in his office. Panic clenched around my throat, and his presence loomed over me, his hatred suffocating.

I squint at the sun, and fill my lungs—but it doesn’t do much to make me feel better. My knees are still weak, and they ache from having hit the floor in Bryce’s office as my legs gave out.

How humiliating.

What stunned and pained me was that he thought I was offering sex.

I’d never. I know he doesn’t want me—not after how badly our relationship imploded—and the idea never occurred to me.

He must think the worst of me now. The sheer disgust in his eyes and voice told me more eloquently than the venomous words he used.

Guess the memory of the old betrayal hasn’t gone hazy with time. When I let him catch me in bed with Jude, he looked at me with so much disbelief, pain and anger. I said things I can never take back. He called me the names I deserved, then punched the hell out of Jude.

Even as I shoved him away from Jude, acid burned in my gut. Bryce clenched and unclenched his hands, and I wished he’d hit me, too, so the guilt wouldn’t cut so deeply. But he merely backed away.

“You just betrayed the one person who would’ve never turned his back on you.” He tilted his chin at Jude, who was watching the scene with a bloody smirk. “I hope he’s worth it.”

He wasn’t. He never was. But Bryce would never know the full truth. And even if he did, what would that change? Some things can’t be unseen. Wounds might heal, but they always leave scars.

I should’ve known better than to think he would help, no matter how desperate I was.

I didn’t mean to collapse like that in his office, but my legs turned to noodles as fear cleaved through me.

The photos that arrived on my phone flash through my mind.

Aaron’s “ loan collectors” took pictures of Sherry doing her Buddhist meditation and napping.

Although I doubt they were actually in the room with her, they had to get past security at the mansion gates to get the shots they sent.

Your mom’s pretty for a woman her age. Think she can pay it off on her back?

Another wave of nausea sweeps through me. What kind of sick people say things like that? What’s most terrifying is that I’m sure they’ll follow through if I can’t find a way to get the money. It won’t just be Sherry in trouble, but me and Aaron, too.

If Bryce won’t help, who can I turn to? Aaron said he’d ask around, but who’s going to lend money to a gambling addict?

You might as well set your money on fire.

Not only does he not have a job, the family business is going under.

He says it won’t be liquidated and he’ll remain an executive, but I don’t trust anything he says.

Actually, I can’t take anything anybody says at face value anymore. Bryce not only refused me, he outright mocked me. Of all the people I know, I thought he would be the last one to lie.

If I told him who hit his dog at Harvard, would he have helped?

He wanted to know to get justice for Gardy.

But would he have believed me? I only found out much later, but there’s no proof I can give Bryce that Jude is the one who ran over the poor golden retriever.

Without bothering to check the thousands of videos and photos individually to make sure they were the ones I wanted gone, I wiped Jude’s phone, laptop and cloud clean, making sure he wouldn’t be able to retrieve anything, not even his contact list.

That was the only way I could think of to escape from the man who’d become my nightmare.

–Aaron: I got something.

Sudden exhaustion weighs on me. Dread, really. When Aaron says he’s got something, it means he’s found an easy way out, not a smart way out.

Please. Don’t let Aaron have gotten involved with another loan shark . It’ll only make things worse.

–Aaron: All you have to do is say yes.

–Me: Me? What am I saying yes to?

–Aaron: Come home, and I’ll tell you .

Given how much he hates to acknowledge me as his sister, my gut warns me to ignore him. I so want to, but life often involves doing things we’d rather not do.

I suck in more air, then slowly make my way to the rental, take some antihistamine pills and start driving.

He won’t leave me alone until I hear what he has to say.

My day’s already a complete mess, so who cares if Aaron dumps more shit on it?

Can’t be worse than what I went through in Bryce’s office.

Although the family fortune has declined, the mansion is the same, at least outwardly. Dark ivy covers the stone walls. There aren’t any pools or ponds on the grounds to avoid triggering Sherry.

Wisteria blooms all over. Sherry plants more of it every year because it was Finley’s favorite, and I don’t dare mention that I’m allergic. Zachary was the only one who noticed, but he told me to take antihistamine and suck it up.

In front of the door are Aaron’s new Maserati—the sight of it makes my molars grind—and a black Maybach I’ve never seen before. The latter better not be another of Aaron’s new splurges or I might just stab him and plead temporary insanity.

The massive, solid oak doors are polished until they shine like gold.

The huge vase in the nook between the foyer and living room holds a bouquet of fresh lilies from the garden.

Not a speck of dust lies anywhere. The air holds a faint scent of cleaning solutions, and hidden speakers play Bach softly.

Only some furtive glances from the staff betray the undercurrent of nerves. They’re wondering how long they’ll still have a job. I wish I could reassure them, but I have nothing to share.

“Hey.”

I turn around at Aaron’s voice, eyebrows pinching at the exuberance in his tone. What’s he so happy about? He’s the one who got the entire family into trouble by messing with the wrong kind of people. Sherry and I don’t deserve this.

“Where you been?” he demands impatiently. “If you’d stayed home like I told you to, things could’ve been wrapped up faster.”

“I went to Huxley & Webber.” My words are flat. His brash optimism doesn’t inspire me much.

He scoffs. “Lawyers can’t fix this problem.”

“I wasn’t planning to sue.” The kind of people Aaron got entangled with aren’t the type who can be controlled by the law.

It’s always faster to break bones, and sex trafficking is profitable.

From the gestures and comments the men made, they’re probably familiar with both.

Hope Aaron doesn’t think he’s safe because he’s got a penis.

Not all sex-trafficking victims are female.

“Good. Because I’ve got the solution.” He rubs his hands and looks like he expects me to jump around with excitement.

“What is it?” I try to hide my weariness and impatience.

I just want to go upstairs and soak in hot water until my knees quit hurting.

My pride will take longer to recover, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

Looking at Aaron’s face only intensifies my resentment and anger.

If he hadn’t messed up so badly, I wouldn’t have had to go to Bryce, the one man I never wanted to see again.

“Me.” A familiar man steps out from the kitchen with a smirk tugging at his lips, setting them into a cruel line. He’s in a blue V-neck shirt and slacks, looking as preppy as he did in college.

My mouth dries. Adrenaline spikes, but my feet stay rooted to the spot. Jude Morven isn’t the kind of man you can simply run from.

“You.” I manage to croak that one word.

“Hello, Finn,” he purrs, smiling. It’s so genuine, it’s terrifying. Whatever he’s happy about can’t be good for me. “Long time no see.”

He reaches for my hand. I pull my arm back like I’m evading a snake. A shriek wells in my throat, but I somehow push it down. If Sherry hears me scream, she’ll panic—and the family can’t afford another hospital visit.

His reptilian eyes narrow. “You’ve changed. You used to love holding hands with me.”

“No,” I rasp. “This is just how I am.”

Scowling, Aaron jabs his finger at me. “What the fuck kind of attitude is that? He’s here to help.”

“How?” My eyes slide to Jude.

But it’s Aaron who answers. “He’s going to make those guys go away. After all, two million’s nothing to my man Jude.” He clasps Jude’s shoulder with an aren’t we best buddies? smile .

Every time he smiled like that in front of Jude, I got pushed into a deeper level of hell. Jude is the main reason I left SoCal, but Aaron is a close second.

“Do you still sing well?”

Jude’s soft question sends nausea roiling through me. The world sways, but I blink to maintain my vision. I can’t drop like I did earlier. Any sign of weakness is a surrender, and I’ll suffer more for it.

“I don’t sing.” I manage to push the reply out despite the tremor racking my body. I clench my hands, but I can’t hide my shakiness. “I never liked it.”

“You’re just out of practice.” He smiles again. “Once you start, you’ll remember how much you love it.”