Johnson Family 2: Perfect (18 page)

“Cyrus,” she whispered. She ran a hand across his broad back and up to his neck. She turned her head, seeking his mouth, but he twisted away from her.

The unforeseen rejection cut deep, and she felt the pain of it dart through her chest.

He fumbled with his belt, and she lifted her mouth to his again, but again he refused her.

“No,” she said in a broken whisper. Desperate, panicked, she grasped his head in hands and achieved a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he once again denied her the affection.

“No, no.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Cyrus.”

They wrestled, she trying in vain to plant a kiss on his mouth, he adeptly avoiding it by pinning her beneath him. She couldn’t break free.

She writhed beneath him, refusing to give up. He had to kiss her. He loved kissing her. He’d said so himself.

He forced her onto her stomach and she gasped at the abrupt movement. He pushed her nightgown halfway up her back to expose her bare bottom.

Her throat and eyes filled with tears. “Don’t treat me like this,” she choked out. She couldn’t be sure he understood because the pillow muffled her words.

She wished he was drunk. At least then she could blame his behavior on the alcohol. But he was sober and knew exactly what he was doing.

“Cyrus, please,” she begged.

She heard the slide of his zipper and a low grunt as he pulled free of his boxers. She twisted again, struggling against the weight of him on her back. In response, he circled both of her wrists in one hand. His fingers were like steel manacles she couldn’t break free of. He kept her pinned down.

“Don’t treat me like this,” she cried again. The tears flowed freely now. He paused. Whether it was the tears or he finally understood the words, she didn’t know. She had his attention. “I’m your wife. I want you to kiss me.
Kiss me
.”

He lowered his lips to her right ear. “You are
not
my wife.” The crushing words were a slap in the face. They were brutal. A way to let her know how little she meant to him now.

He slid between the folds of her sex. Slick with want, her body swallowed his wide girth. With one hand clasping her hip and the other holding her wrists together, he pushed all the way in, his hard chest bearing down on her back. Wet and trembling beneath him, she bit her lip and thrust back, arching and clenching her lower muscles to increase the friction and pleasure for them both.

Cyrus increased his speed, his breathing growing shallow.

Her own breaths left her lips in choppy, broken huffs. The tender flesh between her legs opened for deeper penetration, her body not knowing the difference between cold indifference and warm possession, knowing only it was him who touched and filled her to capacity.

Behind her, Cyrus grunted. He was about to come, and he wasn’t waiting for her. He’d always seen to her satisfaction first, but not this time.

“Here’s another way for us to keep you from suffering through the distasteful burden of having to carry my child,” he said. “One you enjoy.”

With that, he pulled out, and warm liquid spilled onto her ass. How many times had they done the same thing? Only this time it was different.

Their idyllic vacation, their do-over, was no more. It was over. Her chest contracted painfully tight at the extent of her loss. Still she couldn’t let go, couldn’t accept it was the end.

Say my name. Please.
He always said her name.

Nothing. No more words came from him.

His heavy breathing subsided, and he rested his forehead between her shoulder blades. It was oddly comforting, as if he still wanted to be close to her. At least that’s what she chose to believe.

“Cyrus…?” He didn’t respond, and what could she say? How could she explain her fears? Her perfectly legitimate reasons for doing what she’d done? He wouldn’t believe her anyway.

“Was any of it real?” he asked hoarsely.

Fresh tears burned her eyes. “Yes,” she responded in a thick voice.

Whether he heard her or not, she couldn’t tell. One second he was behind her, the next he rose from the bed and walked out. She remained in the same position, her wrists crossed and locked together, as if he still held her captive.

The tears came down like a torrential rain. They flowed from her eyes, soaking her cheeks, soaking the pillow. She cried until her eyes were swollen almost shut, and even then she didn’t stop.

Chapter Nineteen

Daniella slept badly. In fact, she didn’t sleep much at all. Difficult to do, despite the long day and the exhaustive tears she’d cried. She woke up constantly, reliving the nightmare of her night with Cyrus.

Not normally a light sleeper, every sound jerked her awake. One time she thought she heard his footsteps as he entered the bedroom. Then she thought she heard the door open and close. She thought the mattress depressed with the weight of his body as he joined her in bed. Over and over again she would startle awake and then drift into a troubled sleep, only to be awakened again minutes later by more wishful thinking.

The rays of the sun finally forced her from the confines of the bed. She’d much rather stay there, but she had to be up and alert for when he returned. In the bathroom, she stared at her image, appalled at her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were red and swollen from her constant crying. She fixed her hair but only time could make her face more presentable. She did what she could with makeup.

She didn’t leave the house, worried he would come while she was out, so her breakfast was half of a banana because in all honesty she couldn’t eat anything more. The minutes dragged by as she waited for him to return or call.

By mid-afternoon she began to worry and called his phone, but there was no answer. They had to talk. She needed to explain. She called five times but he never once picked up. The pain in her chest swelled to an even greater size and she broke down into tears again. Where could he be?

That question was answered when his assistant, Shaun, arrived. It was then she had to accept the gravity of the situation. Cyrus wasn’t coming back.

Shaun looked rumpled but alert and ready to work. Cyrus must have called him overnight and told him to come. Downstairs in the entryway, with the sun streaming through the windows, it seemed unbelievable that her marriage had collapsed the night before. The day was bright and pretty—just another day in paradise.

Shaun shoved his glasses up on his nose. Slender but muscular, he had the body of a long distance runner. “I’m here to help you get organized, packed, and back to the States when you’re ready,” he said. In the past, he’d been pleasant enough, and Daniella didn’t know if it was her guilty conscience, but now he seemed standoffish and his blue eyes filled with accusation.

“Where is he?” she asked, uncaring about how Shaun felt about her, uncaring that having to ask such a question should have been embarrassing. She was past embarrassment.

“I’m not sure.” His eyes lowered to the ever-present smartphone in his hand. “He told me—”

“Where is he, Shaun?” She wasn’t in the mood for avoidance tactics. His allegiance may be to Cyrus, but she needed answers. Cyrus hadn’t answered his private phone, the one he always answered, and she knew he had it with him because she’d searched for it and found it missing among the possessions left at the house. “You know his schedule better than anyone else. He tells you everything.” There was a slight catch to her voice, and she could tell he heard it.

“He’s in London,” he finally replied quietly. The look he sent her was a mixture of pity and contrition, as if having to deliver the bad news made him guilty in some way.

Her heart sank. “What’s he doing in London?”

“A business emergency came up and he had to fly out immediately.” He couldn’t even look her in the eye when he lied.

Daniella tempered her tone. It wasn’t his fault. He was doing what he’d been told. “You and I both know there was no business emergency.”

Shaun remained silent, shifting from his left foot to his right in a display of discomfort.

“I want to go to London to see him.”

“That’s not a good idea, ma’am. He’s working and made it clear what my responsibility was where you are concerned.”

If she didn’t go with him, he might hog tie her and take her back anyway. Cyrus had given him a directive and he was clearly determined to carry it out.

“So you’re here to take me back to Seattle?” Cyrus might be angry at her, but he still made sure she was well-taken care of.

“Yes, ma’am. When would you like to leave?”

“Tomorrow.” There was no reason for her to remain there. “When will he be back home?”

“He’ll be in London for about a week.”

Daniella sighed internally. There were probably legitimate reasons for him to be in London, but she knew urgent business hadn’t taken him there. Urgency to get away from her had.

“Thank you, Shaun.”

Daniella headed toward the front door. Before she left, she wanted to sit out on the beach and watch the sun bathe the landscape in a burst of bright color before it disappeared.

“Ma’am, he mentioned something about a door…?”

“The bathroom door. It’s in the main bedroom. Up the stairs and to the right.”

“Thank you.” He hurried up the stairs.

“Shaun?” He paused, already halfway up to view the problem and assess how to handle it. “When you talk to him, would you…tell him to call me? Please.”

He nodded, the expression of pity and contrition making another appearance. Then he continued up the stairs, and Daniella walked out the door to take one last look at paradise.

Chapter Twenty

Daniella sat impatiently at Seattle Trust Bank. Since her return to the States, she’d charged forward with her plan to get financing to open the gallery in New York. She hadn’t heard from Cyrus, although she knew he’d returned a few days ago.

Shaun had shown up at the house to get some of his things and let it slip Cyrus was staying at the Four Seasons Hotel. She’d been tempted to call but didn’t know if a longer cooling off period was necessary. Rather than wallow in indecision, she’d continued working on her expansion. With the property under contract, she needed a larger line of credit to purchase inventory and renovate the space, all of which distracted her from her marital problems.

She’d successfully applied for and received a line of credit from the bank almost two years ago, which had allowed her to expand the Ballard location. She’d actually been surprised by the amount they’d loaned her, considering her business had been so young. Her situation had changed drastically since then. Beaux-Arts Galleries had proven itself when she’d made her payments on time, so she saw no reason why she shouldn’t get an expansion in her line of credit.

Still, she was nervous. Her banker, Alex, was on vacation and another banker, Bridgette, had come out to greet her and escort her into her office. She was a chunky blonde who smiled when she spoke. Daniella had never seen her before, and it was obvious she was fairly new because she didn’t have the same level of confidence Alex did. After accessing Daniella’s account via computer, she twisted her hands on the desk, and the nervous action made Daniella uneasy. She didn’t know if Bridgette was intimidated or if she was hiding something. In her gut, she felt it was the latter, and she worried it had to do with her husband. She would be sick if he’d influenced the bank into refusing her loan.

“I’m sorry, but we’re unable to process your request at this time,” Bridgette explained. “Without Alex here, there’s not much I can do. He’s familiar with your account. Can I provide some other assistance?” She appeared deeply apologetic.

Daniella could feel her fear mounting. They were giving her the brush off. “Surely there’s someone else here who can help me. Alex’s supervisor, perhaps?” What could possibly be wrong? If they were going to decline her loan request, they needed to let her know.

“Um…I…” Bridgette searched the bank lobby for someone. “One moment, please,” she said, and rushed off.

Now Daniella was even more concerned.

Her phone vibrated and she looked down to see a text from her office manager asking how everything was going. She ignored it for now. She didn’t have an answer yet.

“Ms. Barrett, I’m so sorry for the delay.” Her head lifted at the sound of a man’s voice. She recognized him as the bank manager. He wore a suit and had an affable round face. He laughed, an uneasy sound that suggested that they’d screwed up somehow. “We’ve had this all cleared up. Bridgette is new here and didn’t realize we should not keep you waiting. Whatever you need is not a problem.”

Daniella blinked, surprised at the turnabout. “Oh. Well, you don’t know how much I need.”

“How much do you need?” he asked in a cheerful voice. He clasped his hands in front of him.

“I need another five hundred thousand dollars to do some renovations and purchase inventory for my new gallery in New York. I have the business plan right here.” She held it up, but he didn’t take it. “I realize I’m asking for a lot of money, but—”

“Absolutely you can!” He laughed heartily and waved his hand as if she was being foolish to suggest otherwise. He didn’t even acknowledge the plan she held out to him. “Why don’t we make it an even one million?”