Page 5 of Somewhere Without You

Five

The corporate parties I usually attended were held at the convention center downtown. But tonight was different.

We pulled up to a private estate near Sunset Cliffs, string lights hanging from the trees.

From the balcony, I could see the naval air base stretched along the palm-fringed coast of Coronado, clinging to the Pacific.

Most guests would be awestruck by the house’s pristine Mediterranean Revival, its Spanish influences woven into every archway and tile.

But I wasn’t impressed.

Once you’ve seen one mansion, you’ve seen them all.

The driver opened Jackson’s door first, of course. Then mine. I stepped out carefully this time, clutching my purse to hide the gaping zipper that still refused to close all the way.

Jackson adjusted his tie and offered me his arm.“Smile,”hesaidthrough his teeth, the corner of his mouth twitching.“You’re the luckiest woman here tonight.”

I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, painting on the smile he wanted.

With my arm draped around his, we made our way inside, greeted by a flurry of familiar faces and forced smiles.

“There he is!”a voiceboomedabove the chatter.

Stanley Greer—an oil executive with more hair on his face than his head, pushed his way through the crowd, a statuesque blonde draped over his arm like a designer handbag.

“Stan the Man,”Jackson drawled, flashing a polished grin.“You remember my lovely wife, Emily.”

“Of course!”Stanleybarked, his mustache twitching with amusement.“How could I forget?”

Jackson’s eyes drifted to the woman at Stanley’s side.“And who’s this vision you’ve brought tonight?”

Stanley puffed up.“Allow me to introduce my wife, Natasha.”

Natasha offered a dazzling smile, her hand extending toward Jackson in a perfectly rehearsed gesture. Her nails were French-tipped and flawless, her ring so large it looked like it belonged in a museum, not on a finger.

“A pleasure,”shesaidin a syrupy accent I couldn’t quite place—somewhere between Moscow and Malibu.

“The pleasure’s mine,”heinsisted, his grip loosening slightly at my waist.

She was Stanley’s fourth wife since I’d known him—each one following the same tired pattern. Young. Foreign. And short-lived.

Jackson smiled, but it wasn’t for Stanley. His gaze drifted lazily down Natasha’s frame, lingering a moment too long. Stanley didn’t notice. But I did.

“It’s lovely to meet you,”Ilied, my voice cutting in sharply.

Jackson cleared his throat.“Looks like quite the event,”hesaid, glancing past Stanley toward the crowd.

“Mostly the regulars,”Stanleygrunted.“A few high-end investors and senior consultants thrown in for flair. I imagine you’ve met most of them, but a couple flew in from New York last night. I’m sure they’ll want a word before your trip.”

“You’re going to New York?”Iasked, surprised. Jackson’s business trips were common, but rarely this unannounced.

“It came together last minute,”hesaid, not quite meeting my eye.“Wasn’t sure it would pan out.”

“Oh, it’s happening,”Stanley cut in with a grin.“The board’s chomping at the bit to hear your projections for next quarter. Formalities, really, but you know how they get when they feel ignored. High-maintenance bastards.”

Natasha laughed politely, the kind of laugh meant to fill space, not respond to humor. Jackson offered her another charming smile.

“How long will you be gone?”Iasked, trying to sound casual but already mentally planning my freedom—no matter how temporary.

“About a month,”hesaid, glancing at me.“Maybe less.”

It would be the longest stretch he’d been gone since our wedding.A month where I could breathe a little easier. A month where I could sleep a little deeper.

“Sounds like a big opportunity,”Isaid.

“For the company,”Jacksonreplied, his tone smooth, and rehearsed.“Nothing’s set in stone, of course. Just a series of meetings.”

“High-stakes ones,”Stanleyadded, clapping him on the back.“Don’t let him downplay it. Jackson’s the golden boy right now. The board practically wets themselves when he walks in the room.”

Jackson laughed, humble but pleased. I’d heard that laugh before. I knew it well. It was the one he used when charm was currency.

“Do you travel often?”Natashaasked, her bright blue eyes locked on Jackson with unwavering interest.

“Often enough,”hesaid, letting his arm slide from my waist without a secondthought.“Most of my work keeps me local, but I travel when the occasion calls for it.”

“How exciting!”shesaid, her smile wide and practiced.“This is my first time leaving Russia. I keep telling Stanley I want to see the world, but so far he only brings me here.”

Jackson turned to Stanley with mock disapproval.“You mean to tell me you haven’t taken your stunning wife on a proper honeymoon? Shame on you old man.”

“She’s free to travel as she pleases,”Stanley waved off as if the matter were beneath him.

“Well then, it’s settled,”Jacksonannouncedwith a grin.“Emily and I would be delighted to have you both join us on our next getaway.”

“We would?” The words slipping out before I could stop them.

Natasha turned to me, her expression perfectly blank.“I would love to accompany you and your. . . wife.”She let the word hang in the air like a challenge.“What was your name again?”

“Emily,” I said flatly.

“Emily,”sherepeatedslowly, like it didn’t sit well on her tongue.

If it didn’t hurt, I would have rolled my eyes.

Whatever“vacation”Jackson had in mind, I knew damn well I wasn’t invited.

At least not in any meaningful sense. And judging by the way the two of them were mentally undressing each other, Natasha didn’t seem too interested in quality time with her husband either.

“Excuse me,”Imumbled, swiping a flute of champagne off a passingservers tray as I stepped away.

Stanley might’ve been clueless, but I knew better. I’d been with Jackson long enough to recognize the signs. Suspecting what he did behind my back was one thing—seeing it unfold in front of me was something else entirely.

As I slipped out onto the stone patio, the sound of the party dulled behind me. The ocean stretched beyond the cliffs, dark and endless. The breeze tugged at the hem of my dress, teasing the pins holding it in place.

For a moment, I let myself pretend I was someone else. A woman with choices—with a future.

I stood there, staring out at the horizon as it faded into dusk, the sky swallowing the last traces of light.

“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”A man with a beer in his hand crept up behind me, his voice smooth.“Beautiful, and dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”Iasked, tilting my head.

He took a small step closer.“Absolutely. There’s an entire world beneath those waves, and we’ve barely explored half of it.”

I turned back to the ocean, watching as the water folded over itself in soft, rhythmic whispers.

“I’m Max, by the way. Max Meyers,”hesaid, extending a hand.

The name didn’t ring a bell, but I accepted the handshake carefully.“Emily. Emily Bishop.”

“Ah,”hegrinned,“the big man’s wife.”

“You know my husband.” Of course he did. Everyone knew Jackson, and more importantly, what he was worth.

“Considering he’s looking to merge with my company, I’d say I’ve had the pleasure.”Max took a sip from his bottle, his dark hair stirring slightly in the breeze.

“You must be from New York then,”Imused, piecing things together.

“I’m from everywhere,”he smirked.“But yeah, our main offices are in Manhattan. That’s where I spend most of my time.”

I nodded, turning my gaze back to the waves.“Must be a nice change of pace, then. . . San Diego this time of year.”

“It has its charms,”hemused.

When I didn’t respond, headded,“Your husband and I were supposed to meet earlier this evening, but he canceled last minute. Something about entertaining potential investors.”

“Sounds about right,”Isaid, lifting the champagne to my lips. It was flat now, but I didn’t mind.

Max studied me for a moment, his eyes searching. Not in the way Jackson looked at people, as if deciding whether they were valuable, but like he was trying to see past the surface.

“He doesn’t strike me as the type to let things slip.Which makes me wonder what could be more important than a deal that size.”

I gave a dry laugh.“Probably someone younger. Or louder.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push.“You don’t seem particularly surprised.”

“I’m not,”Isaidsimply, watching a wave crash hard against the rocks, then retreating into itself.“You get used to disappointment when you know where to look for it.”

Max was quiet for a moment. Then, gentlyasked,“And what are you looking for, Emily?”

I hesitated. No one had asked me that in a long time. Not without expecting something in return.

“Air,”Isaidfinally.“Just a little space to breathe.”

He nodded like he understood, then took another pull from his beer.“Well, you picked the right spot for it.”

He was attractive in a quiet, understated way—with eyes like a shadowed moon and a boyish face.

Behind us, the party continued through the French doors in a swirl of laughter and music, the energy clashing against the calm of the ocean breeze.

“What about you? Are you married?”I baited, softly.

Max shook his head, and a few strands of raven hair fell across his long lashes.“No wife. No kids, either,”hesaid.“And your infamous husband—where’s he hiding?”

“He’s. . . occupied at the moment,”Ireplied, the words tasting artificial.“Enjoying himself, I suppose.”

“I’ve never been one for these kinds of parties,”Maxsaid, glancing toward the glow of the estate.“But I’ll admit, I am enjoying the view tonight.”

My cheeks flushed as I suddenly realized the precariousness of the situation. I shouldn’t be out here alone with this man—especially one Jackson intended to do business with. But there was something about the ease of it that sent a quiet thrill through me.

“Yes, well,”Isaid, raising the champagne to my lips.“It is a lovely night.”