what was left of the tooth and replace it with a crown. Waiting for the procedure, he’d skimmed through magazines that were over a year old. Frustrated, he tossed them aside and began watching the tabloid TV entertainment show blaring in the shabby lobby.
That’s when he’d seen Sydney. His Sydney. Except she wasn’t. She wasn’t going by Brown anymore. Instead, the story called her Sydney Revere. The reporter claimed she was the daughter of some longtime Hollywood director who’d gone down on the set of his latest film with a heart attack. Monty Revere was mending in the hospital after bypass surgery but the real story was that his daughter—who’d never directed a film, much less had a credit on a single film production—had taken control of the expensive production.
They flashed a picture of Sydney on the screen. Wake stared hard as he finally recognized her. The dull, lifeless brown mop of hair was gone, as were the huge glasses she’d always hidden behind. Sydney was tall and had a tendency to slouch. The woman on screen held herself with confidence. Rich, beautiful, auburn hair spilled about her shoulders. The green eyes mesmerized Wake. Yet he recognized bits of his Sydney in this one. She had the same generous mouth and smile. The exact cheekbones. Sydney had gone Hollywood and reinvented herself.
Anger flooded Wake as he continued to watch the story unfold. Apparently, his wife had lived an entirely different life before she’d met him, one she’d never bothered to share. Sydney Revere had been Hollywood royalty and had married an aging star while still in her teens. Then she’d disappeared off the face of the earth—until now.
Why hadn’t Sydney told him who she was? Better yet, she had to have money. Lots of it.
Once Wake’s tooth was repaired, he’d Googled her and found out she was worth a ton. That Craig Thompson had left her well off. Obviously, she hadn’t spent any of it during law school or while they were married or Wake would’ve known about it.
Sydney owed him.
He’d helped her come out of her introverted shell. He’d become her study partner the first semester in law school. She wouldn’t have had the grades she got without him. He’d married her, for God’s sake, and it was his family’s connections that had helped her land the job at a prestigious firm in New York. Then she had the audacity to up and leave him for no good reason.
Wake wanted Sydney back—and more importantly, he wanted the money that came with her.
He’d charged a flight to LA that he’d never be able to pay for and rented a sub-compact. Pawning the last of his mother’s jewelry, he’d found a cheap motel room and crashed for a few hours. Then he’d driven to the last address Marker had provided him. On the way, Wake bought cheap white roses at a grocery store and placed them on the porch early this morning. He recognized Brenda, Sydney’s former assistant in Boston, when she came out and grabbed the vase.
All day, people had come and gone from the house but Sydney hadn’t appeared until late afternoon from wherever she’d been hiding. She’d only gone inside for a few minutes and then left quickly. So Wake sat, waiting for her to come home tonight. When Sydney had stopped by earlier in the day, Wake had noticed a black SUV park across the street moments later. No one had exited the SUV and the driver pulled away shortly after Sydney had left. If the cars following her were still with her, then he’d have to think of something.
Finally, headlights appeared. No other cars seemed close behind. Wake sat up in anticipation.
It wasn’t the ancient convertible Sydney had been driving earlier. Instead, another car pulled up in the driveway. A guy got out. Something looked familiar about him.
Was Sydney living with this man? If so, she’d have to face whatever punishment Wake decided to dole out. She was his wife. It didn’t matter what the courts said. A piece of paper didn’t tell their story. Sydney was his.
Wake would make sure of it.
CHAPTER 27
Sydney got her father settled in the chair behind his desk. She had a rare morning off since Britt Baker was handling direction of the fight sequences being filmed. Dash had assured her he had the choreography down and wouldn’t sport any shiners when she arrived on set later this afternoon.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go rest?” she asked.
“I promise to