The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,392

loathing and still on Marcel’s pallid face. “This is a negotiation. You have choices.”

The next few seconds pass in tense silence.

“This is a waste of time,” Marcel hisses.

“So, it seems,” his lawyer’s response is flat and unemotional.

They gather their papers and briefcases. Marcel’s expression is stony and frigid, as he stands, buttons his suit jacket and leaves the table, without another word or glance in my direction.

I know I’ve got him by the short hairs, but I came here with a very specific goal, and I won’t let him leave without giving it to me.

“You have until tomorrow afternoon to leave my house. Consider this your heads up,” I call to him.

“Fine,” he snaps, and then the door slams so hard the windows rattle.

Remi and I walk to his car in tense, stoic silence. I know he’s waiting for us to be alone to unleash on me. As soon as I climb inside the cool, dark interior of his car, I let loose the breath I’ve been holding for the last few days, in a long sigh of relief.

“I’m exhausted,” I groan, letting my head loll to rest on the seat.

“That went better than I hoped.” Remi’s voice is tight with unspoken annoyance.

I cast him a sidelong glance. “Then why do you sound like we lost.”

“I don’t like surprises.” His voice is quiet but seething with anger.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to talk to you about it because I knew you’d press me for more.”

“Yes, I would.” He leans back against his door, his disappointed glare, unrelenting, as he rails at me. “I want to know why, if you care about him enough to protect him from your husband, why the fuck doesn’t he care enough to not let you?”

I drop my head into my hands. “Because he doesn’t know what’s happened.”

“How? That picture was in every single tabloid, including the ones in Mexico. Or does he live on the moon?”

A wave of despair washes over me. “He might as well,” I say. Stone is only one month into his three-month trip, and I feel sick to think of what he’ll say when he gets back and finds everything so different.

“Then why do you feel the need to protect him?” he snaps, and my heart trembles because, Lord, I hate hurting him.

“Because he’s not the one who broke his wedding vows. He didn’t do anything wrong, and Marcel would completely dismantle his life. I don’t want that on my conscience. It was a fling. And I just want it done.” The words leave a bitter aftertaste in their wake. But they do the trick.

“Fine. You’re entitled to your privacy, Regan. I just hate the idea of him walking around scot-free, while your name is being dragged through the mud.”

“I’m fine, Remi. I’ll have to stop some of the bleeding and try to salvage Venus Rising, but that meeting was a huge hurdle, and I just want to look forward.” I grab his hand and give him my best little sister puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he sighs and pulls me into a hug. “Besides, you got everything you wanted today. I’m proud of you.”

“Not everything.” I banish the thought from my mind. I’ve been very grateful for the distraction of disaster to take my mind off him. I’ve also given thanks for the distance between us.

But as his date of arrival grows nearer, my longing only intensified to an insatiable, tenacious growl of demand. One that robs me of sleep.

And one that I know, if presented with opportunity for appeasement, won’t be denied.

2 Months Later

Pamplona, Norte de Santander

COLOMBIA

Chapter 43

Move

Stone

I stumble into my apartment and drop everything where I stand. Without stopping, I stride straight into my bedroom and put my phone on its charger. I grab the stack of mail that my neighbor bundled and left on my kitchen table along with his copy of my spare key.

I’m dying for a hot shower and for the soft mattress on my bed. But I need to check my messages, open my mail and call my woman.

I grab my phone from the drawer in my bedside table and plug it in. Three months of lying dormant has left it completely dead and it takes forever for it to even register that it’s charging. I stare at it, willing it to turn on.

When I knew I couldn’t use it, I didn’t once yearn for it. Now that I’m seconds away from being able to communicate again, each minute that I stare at that black