Page 11 of Mended Fences

She snorted.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t need to tell me I look good. I already know you think I’mpretty.”

Yes! High five, me!

Elena blushed a bit, and the chubby I was sporting turned into a raging hard on.

“Do you ski?” I asked. “Or snowboard?”

“No. I come here for the coffee and the spa.”

“Do you wanna learn?”

Elena raised a brow, eyeing me skeptically. “Areyougonna teach me?”

I shrugged again, trying to play it cool while my heart raced at the prospect of spending more time with her. “Sure, why not?”

Elena’s perfect eyebrow arched higher, her lips quirking in a skeptical smirk. “Do you even know how to teach someone to ski?”

“Yeah, I taught my sister when she was little.” Charlie had been a natural, picking it up way faster than I had. “I prefer boarding, but we can ski.”

“What if I want to snowboard?” A glint of challenge sparked in her dark eyes.

My cock twitched at her defiance, her spine of steel. “It’s more difficult.”

She lifted her chin, fire flashing across her features. “I’m a Harvard-educated doctor. I think I can figure it out.”

The sass in her voice made me want to drop to my knees right there in the lodge café. Instead, I grinned at her feisty attitude. “Okay, Miss Sassy Pants Doctor. Let’s see what you got.”

Chapter Five

ELENA

Then, December 2023

I couldnotfigureit out.

But Iwashaving fun, and fun was a rarity these days.

My routine was simple: wake up, go to work, come home, make dinner, go to bed, hope like hell my husband didn’t take what I was not willingly giving.

Repeat.

Peter had “pulled some strings” to ensure I always stayed on day shift so that I could be home for dinner every night. At first, I thought it was sweet. Residency could be brutal, so I’d been grateful for an easier schedule, though my peers were unimpressed.

It wasn’t until a few months into our move to Detroit and my start at Henry Ford Hospital that I realized it was just another method of control.

Peter had followed me to Boston for medical school, so it had only been fair that I followed him back to Detroit—his home—for residency. His connections in the city hadn’t hurt, either, when it came to applying for resident programs.

But now, my career, my schedule, my entire life was under his careful scrutiny.

AnyfunI had was at his discretion, and we had very different ideas of whatfunentailed.

Peter grew up wealthy; his family’s holding company, Stone Ventures, owned and invested in numerous businesses and real estate properties across the city. They were also well-known philanthropists and one of the biggest donors to Henry Ford Hospital.

Our evenings and weekends were often spent at corporate dinners or charity galas, exchanging pleasantries with equally accomplished and wealthy patrons as the Stones.

I found it all incredibly dull.