Page 42

anything but mundane

Christian

I don’t mention the bruises on her upper arm. The sight of those on the cameras as she strutted her gorgeous ass out here provoked me in a way her nakedness couldn’t. And it was doing enough.

There’s so much she needs to understand. And there are things I need to be clued in to, too, but she’s on overload and more isn’t better. At least, tonight.

“So these mundane things? What are we discussing tonight?” I stand, extending a hand and can’t stop my blatant stare as she emerges naked from the water like a goddess shucking her immortality.

“You keep staring, we won’t discuss much.”

“I won’t argue that.”

The words are barely out when her stomach growls as if she’s never eaten. A blush paints her from cleavage to hairline and she looks away.

“But first, let’s get you fed.” I look to my hand and wait until she accepts the offer before helping her out ahead of me.

Following her swaying ass for the umpteenth time today, I’m reminded how good my life is—that is, aside from the drama surrounding my wife.

Which reminds me, I have calls to make tonight after she falls asleep.

Calls to discuss things that are anything but mundane.

Dinner is delicious, though everything Corinne makes is. Conversation is light and obviously avoiding the topics we both need to dive into.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

Her head pops up. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

I can… her .

Everywhere.

Anywhere.

But, since I made the offer, I follow through. “Let’s go then.”

“Go? I don’t want to go out.” She looks down her body past her hoodie and sleep pants to her huge fluffy socks.

“Come on.” I push back from the table and extend a hand. This is new for us. She never needs leading or guiding.

We walk hand in hand up the stairs, past the library and the guest rooms to the end. The theatre sits on the front side of the house, across the hall from our suite, because the story-and-a-half ceilings and the skylights in that room ate up the upstairs.

Black paint covers sound dampening material. Black theatre seating surrounds the screen.

“Where would you like to sit?” I offer to my wife, watching her select the middle seat in the middle row, exactly the one she’s always chosen.

She may not know it, but so much is still the same.

I take the seat to her left, the one I’ve always picked and grab my phone. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Nothing suspenseful. No thrillers or horror. Not tonight. Choose something I don’t have to think about.”

Knowing my wife, she’ll be asleep in less than half an hour. Full emotion-filled day, plus hiking, and a huge dinner? She may not make it that long.

I cue up Ferris Bueller’s Day Off . I wouldn’t call it mundane, but it’s easy viewing. And easy avoiding which I’ll need after she falls asleep.

“Bueller? Bueller? Did you seriously choose this?” Her grin is real, and her face is open and vulnerable. It’s been months since I’ve seen that look on her face.

“I did.”

Before Ferris can say, “they bought it,” I know two things.

One, my wife is back. Meaning we’re an us again in a way we haven’t been since before her fall.

And two, the months since then have been a farce on her part.

Her obvious relaxation and vulnerability with me are a stark difference to what has been since she woke up in the hospital.

She’s been playing at trusting me. Playing at… well, I don’t know what.

I sit next to her, my mind reeling and my gut churning. It takes mere minutes for her to melt into my side and not long after that before the weight of her in sleep presses into me.

I reach an arm around, setting it on her hip, possessive and claiming. Whatever happened today brought my wife back to me.

But there will be hell to pay for whomever took her from me to begin with. Starting now…

Me: I need info that you’re not going to like.

Liam Murphy: Try me.

Me: I need a private investigator to dig into Ayla’s fall.

Liam Murphy: Already done. I can send the results.

Me: Deeper. I need someone to pull the threads.

Liam Murphy: Okay. But why now?

Me: Because today I saw it with my own eyes. And so did she. There’s no way she fell. She was pushed. Or thrown.

Liam Murphy: The fuck? You sure?

Me: Zero doubt. Her body couldn’t get to where it was without help.

Liam Murphy: We assumed foul play.

Me: We can confirm foul play now. I need to know who. I need to know why. And not surface-level shit.

Liam Murphy: Agree.

Me: Second.

Liam Murphy: There’s more?

Me: Your dad has been acting suspicious. Beyond the normal disdain for me. Can you or someone you know investigate that?

Liam Murphy: After yesterday, it would be my pleasure.

Me: I’ll pay.

Liam Murphy: On the house.

Me: I’ll pay.

Liam Murphy: Already decided.

Me: Ayla doesn’t know about the conservatorship history yet. Too much today for her and she asked for no more.

Liam Murphy: Roger that.

Me: Last thing, any way your system could be hacked or skirted.

Liam Murphy: No.

Me: 100% no? Zero chance?

Liam Murphy: Why?

Me: The night I was shot, your sister saw masked men at our house while she was in the safe room. I blew it off because the system didn’t alert me and the cameras recorded nothing.

Liam Murphy: But she saw it live?

Me: Yes.

Liam Murphy: Fuck.

Me: Not making me feel better, man.

Liam Murphy: Me neither

Liam Murphy: Give me some time. I’ll get back with you.

I switch threads to one I’d bet I’ll like even less. But my head of security is intrinsically trustworthy. It doesn’t hurt he has an iron-clad NDA.

Me: Unusual request but I need it made a priority.

The response isn’t instant like Liam’s but it’s quick enough.

Ren Gallo: What can I do for you?

Me: I need you to investigate someone. Find any and all dirt you can. Pull every loose thread and see what unravels.

Ren Gallo: Sure. Target?

Me: Me.

Ren Gallo: Pardon.

Me: Me. Dig deep. There’s something going on, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. And guess who I’m not researching?

Ren Gallo: Definitely not what I expected but I get it. And if I may say so, I respect it.

Me: Let me know the cost and whatever I need to compensate you for. And don’t use Liam Murphy for this.

Ren Gallo: Yes, sir.

Me: Thank you.

Ren Gallo: Why me?

Me: Because I respect you and I know there are less than a handful of people who will lay out the truth for me, even if it’s ugly. And you’re one.

Ren Gallo: Thank you, sir. I’ll get back to you ASAP.

My wife silently sleeps. She slipped her head onto my lap, dangerously near my dick, at some point during my texts with Ren and hasn’t stirred since.

I finish the movie, though I can’t tell you what happened other than Twist and Shout being the most iconic filmed parade sequence in movie history.

The ending credits roll, and I sit through all of them. I power down the system from my phone and look at the red hair splayed along my legs.

This woman was scared, hurt, and nearly taken from me. She’s fought to return to normalcy, all the while not knowing that someone tried to kill her while I was failing to protect her.

My blood runs cold. Someone tried… and failed.

Which means the job wasn’t done.

And she’s still at risk.