a delivery I need to sign for.
Standing, I eye the two men sitting on Joe’s couch. “I’ll be back. Don’t touch anything.”
The black-haired guy scowls at me while the blond one looks at me with amusement. They don’t say anything, though, and I hurry out to sign for the delivery.
I’ve signed and am making my way back into Joe’s office when his voice sounds from behind me. He’s talking with his assistant, but his eyes meet mine as I turn to glance back at him.
Holy fuck.
He’s back earlier than I thought he would be.
I’ve got a USB stick sitting in his computer transferring financial files that I want to use to force him to divorce me and leave Mason alone, and he’s about to fucking go into his office.
Panic swirls in my gut, causing some light-headedness as I try desperately to figure out how the hell to stall him and fix this situation.
“You don’t look pleased to see me,” he murmurs when he comes to me.
That’s because I’m fucking not.
Oh God.
God, God, God, where the hell are you today and why aren’t you on my side?
I smile, but even I know it’s a tight smile that won’t convince him. “I’m not feeling the best today, Joe.”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“My stomach. I have cramps and I feel like I’m going to vomit.” Jesus, why didn’t I learn how to be a better liar? I feel like that’s a life skill I could do with.
His gaze drops to the box I’m carrying. The one I just signed for. “What’s that?”
I have no idea what’s in the box. All I know is that Alexa sent it to me, and knowing her sense of humour, I should do my best not to let my husband see what it is until I confirm it’s safe for his eyes.
Good fucking God, I may just die from severe anxiety today.
“It’s make-up that Alexa sent over for me to try.”
I swear Joe has a bullshit detector for me. He narrows his eyes and says, “What the fuck is really in the box, Chelsea? And why are you lying to me about not feeling well?”
Those balls I found earlier for the mafia men? They just fell off. I can’t juggle balls while also juggling an asshole. One has to give, and unfortunately, the asshole isn’t going anywhere soon.
I shove the box at him. “Take a look for yourself. And thank you very much for being a prick. For your information, I’m not lying. My stomach is twisting up like it wants to exit my body. And I could vomit all over you right now I feel that ill.”
The fact that what I just said is the actual truth goes in my favour. Joe doesn’t detect any bullshit, so he refuses to take the box and says, “I see we’re going to have one of those days.”
When he moves past me to walk towards his office, I almost literally throw up all over him.
Scrambling to come up with something—anything—that will distract him from going in there, I blurt, “And here I was actually fucking missing you while you were away. So much so that I bought you something, but you know what? I don’t think I want to give it to you now.”
Every part of me holds its breath, waiting for his response. I’m hopeful he’ll take the bait and run with it so I can try to drag him to the office kitchen, pretending the gift is in there before telling him to wait while I go get it. I’m fully aware this is the worst plan in the entire history of dumb plans, but I’m fucking desperate here.
He stops. “What the fuck is going on?”
My eyes widen at his tone.
He’s not buying a word I’m saying.
And I’m pretty sure I’m about to discover just what a monster he is. I’m under no illusions that if Joe figures out my plan to save Mason, I’ll learn that anything he’s done to me so far doesn’t come close to the devious shit he’ll dream up in response to this.
When I don’t answer him, he barks, “Get in my office now. We need to discuss the fact you didn’t come home last night.”
He turns and stalks into his office before I can get another word in. I can barely process the fact he knows I didn’t come home because I’m still trying to process the fact he’s going to punish me for snooping on him and trying to blackmail him.
I consider