pounds. And then, because I can’t bear to see her play the victim, I yank the towel off the rack and toss it at her. “Who were you with?”
“Jesus, Michael, I’m so tired of answering to your demands every time I go out.” She dries off angrily and then shoves her arms into the white cashmere robe I bought her last Christmas. “When I married you, I didn’t sign up to have a watchdog hounding my every move. You’re the most suspicious man I’ve ever known.”
She steps past me out of the bathroom, shoving me in the shoulder as she goes, and I follow.
“Then leave,” I taunt. She’s so close. With one move, I could grip her hair in my fist and yank her to the floor. “But we both know you’re not going anywhere, don’t we? Because you love the life I’ve given you. You get off on the clothes, and the cars, and the staff waiting on you hand and foot. You love Ravenwood, and you especially love the way that people look at you when they realize you live here.”
She rounds on me then, eyes narrowing, lips pinching in disgust. “Oh, yeah, you nailed it. I love that my home is practically a prison, and that I can’t go anywhere or do anything without hearing an earful from you when I come home.” Whirling around at her bedroom door, she swings her arm toward the hall. “Get out of my room.”
A laugh erupts from my chest as I charge at her, eliminating the space between us. “You’ve lost your mind. Who do you think you’re talking to? This is my house, and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you were with tonight.”
“Get out!” she shrills, lurching forward so that our noses nearly brush. “Goddamn it, Michael, leave me the hell alone!”
“Tell me who you’re fucking, honey, and I will.”
She clenches her jaw tight.
“Is it Dean Lewis? Distillery Don? All of the above?”
She swipes wet strands of hair out of her face. “Yes, Michael, I’m fucking everyone. Our chef, the bartender, and the skinny guy who delivers the mail, too. Would you really like a list of all the men I’ve slept with? Because boy, it’s a long one!”
“Maybe.” There’s a sharp pain in my forehead, making me dizzy again. “If that’s the truth.”
She meets my gaze now, and there’s no anger in her eyes. Just gut-wrenching indifference. “Just get out. Seriously, just go.”
“How long has it been going on?”
“A few months. But stop being ridiculous. It’s just sex. It means nothing.”
I’m furious that she thinks she can write this off so nonchalantly.
“At least I don’t have to hide it anymore,” she adds with a shrug. “No more sneaking around, no more lies. If you could accept this, it could work. We could all be happy.”
“We could all be happy? You’re going to keep seeing this bastard?”
Frowning, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, that would be ideal. We’re in a traditional marriage in a modern world, Michael. Let’s catch up to the times. You could have someone on the side too. It could be fun. Think about it.”
“Absolutely not.” I can’t believe she’s being serious. “I didn’t get married to have my wife spread her legs for anyone who asks.”
She smirks. “Don’t be so closed-minded. There are couples in open relationships everywhere. Why can’t we be that way?”
“Name one couple we know in an open relationship.” I square up to her, though I get the feeling I’m swaying. I’m having trouble focusing. “One couple who’s happy to see their spouse screw other people.”
“Rachael and Travis,” she says triumphantly. “And Rachael says they’re doing well.”
“Fuck.” I scrub my hands through my hair and steady myself on the doorjamb. “That’s your example of a happy couple? They’re delusional. You’re delusional.”
“Why should we have to choose between a boring monogamous