Page 38

He makes several turns in the morning sunshine, our course uncertain.

“Coffee first, that is, unless you’re abstaining.”

“I’m never abstaining. And you’re being weird.”

“How so?”

I don’t answer him. It’s obvious. I don’t know why I’m being so agreeable other than I have no other choice. And I haven’t had my coffee.

He pulls into my favorite little place. In fact, it’s the same place I came yesterday morning before the world blew up.

“Anything special you want today?” He must see the look on my face, because he reaches up and brushes a thumb just under my marked cheek. “Be right back, Princess.”

Staring out the side window, I don’t stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours ago, and—well, I guess things were equally as shitty, but I didn’t know it. Blissful ignorance.

Would I rather things be horrible and live not knowing?

Or know with no way to do anything about it?

Swiping the tears from my eyes, I rearrange my features. He’ll see no sadness from me anymore. I may have no agency, but I can control what they see. Hell, I can control what everyone sees. New goal. Fuck them. Live my best life, at least in appearances, until I can figure something out.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Tears dried. I’m me again by the time Christian returns, two large cups and a brown paper bag in hand.

“Cinnamon roll latte,” he announces and passes the cup across the console. “And a couple of goodies.”

The bag contains my favorite sweet comfort foods. A huge cinnamon roll with thick frosting. A cranberry orange muffin with crunchy sugar topping. A white cupcake with white icing. And a Rice Krispies marshmallow bar. A quick glance to the man in the driver’s seat finds him watching me.

“What?” His eyes are intent on my face.

Shaking my head, I offer a quiet “Nothing,” knowing it’s anything but. I sip my coffee and manage to hold in my moan as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading north.

He drinks his coffee in silence as the inviting aroma of the drinks fills the car where conversation should normally be.

The silence annoys me and I figure I might as well eat to keep my mouth busy.

There are so many things I want to say, but so few I want to hear, so I grab the cupcake and dive in.

Sweet almond flavor and sugar dance on my tongue, and I don’t even care if he witnesses me doing a little dance in my seat from the taste.

When a small smile plays on Christian’s lips, I realize my mistake. Oh well. I’m living my best life, remember? That includes cupcakes and coffee and being chauffeured wherever it is we’re going on a workday, bruised face and all.

I’m gob smacked when he turns into the bank parking lot.

He throws the car in park and turns to me after unbuckling.

“You’re pissed. More than. And rightfully so.

But you don’t know the whole story. You didn’t ask either.

That said, I would’ve told you. But since you’re hellbent on not believing me, I figured I’d show you instead. ”

He gets out of the car and stands at the hood, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

I check my reflection in the mirror, resigned to the old, mismatched outfit, hair that hasn’t seen a brush, and the shiner on my face, wondering what they’ll see when the ward and her master enter the lobby.

Saying fuck it, I shove the last of the cupcake in my face, unbuckle and grab my purse and coffee. Let’s do this shit.

Whatever the hell it is.

Christian holds the door open to me in silent invitation that I’m to enter ahead of him. He walks close to my side but doesn’t touch me the way he has over the last several months. He neither leads nor follows. My steps slow since I don’t know why we’re here or where we’re supposed to be going.

He leans down to murmur in my ear. “Go ahead. Find someone. Ask your questions.”

My face turns so quickly, our lips brush. My eyes go wide and I take a step backward, all the while captivated by his eyes and the sultry, downright sexy look he has lasered on me.

All right. This is doable. I turn toward the counter and greet a teller. “May I speak with one of your personal bankers please?"

She nods and turns toward the office doors behind her and speaks with an older woman, who stands and returns with her.

“May I help you, miss?”

“Can we speak privately?”

She nods to a door to my right and leads the way into the private, dark wood-paneled room with a table and chairs.

She carries a tablet with her. Christian is the last of our trio to enter and he closes the door with a quiet snick before seating himself at the head of the table, leaving me across from… “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Dorinda Wallace.” Deep lines near her eyes crinkle when she smiles. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m Ayla Barone. Can you tell me my balance—” I chance a look at my husband, before adding, “And how much I can withdraw today?”

Dorinda looks to my husband, whose eyes never leave my face, before she turns to me. “Absolutely, Mrs. Barone. May I see your ID?”

I pull out my purse, grateful that Christian had the forethought to bring it. I grab my driver’s license and slide it across the table to her.

She lifts her tablet and snaps a picture of it before typing something on the screen. After sliding my license back to me, she turns the device my way and points to the figures on the screen.

“In this account”—she uses a stylus to indicate which one she’s discussing—“this is your balance.” She moves the stylus down as she moves through the accounts and their astounding balances.

“Each can be transferred, though it usually takes twenty-four hours. To withdraw in cash, we request some time, but we can do ten thousand from each account today without any challenge. May I ask—” She pauses looking between the two of us.

“Is there something we’ve done to warrant your decision to terminate our relationship?

We’d love the opportunity to make it right and continue our business together. ”

“I… No.” I pause. “There’s nothing you’ve done. And I’m not interested in terminating the relationship. I would like ten thousand, though, from each of the accounts listed here. “How long will that take?”

“We’d need an hour or so. Would you like to wait here or would you prefer to come back?”

“I’ll stay here. Thank you, Ms. Wallace.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Barone. I’ll need a few signatures when everything is ready.”

“Of course.” I nod. My of course was a bluff. All of this is. What the hell am I going to do with fifty thousand dollars in cash?