he could hide a wife?
When she disappears from sight, I trudge back to my desk. I settle down in my chair with a heavy sigh, then I bring up the internet.
I have never once googled Declan Blackwood. Everything I know about him was learned by word-of-mouth. Some from the other housekeeping staff. And, of course, I knew the Blackwood name. They were sometimes in the news from a business perspective.
Now, I type his name into the Google search bar, then add the word “wife” behind it.
My stomach rolls when articles and pictures load, showing Declan standing beside the woman who just walked out of here.
Her name is Madison Blackwood, and it looks like they were married roughly five years ago. There aren’t a lot of pictures because they aren’t true celebrities. But it seems they are mostly from black-tie events with other wealthy people or even some celebrities. I don’t see anything from the past two years, though, and that confuses me.
I’m not sure what this means except, bottom line… Declan lied to me. He kept something significant from me, which makes it even worse since I bared my soul about my own failed marriage. The minute I did that, he had a duty to admit he had an active one.
I move from Google over to Microsoft Word.
And I start to type out my letter of resignation.
CHAPTER 27
Declan
The amount of excitement building within me at the prospect of turning the corner within the Blackwood offices and getting a glimpse of Bailey’s face is laughable. It’s been six long days since I’ve seen it in person. While we’ve FaceTimed during my trip, it’s just not the same.
Bubbling within me is also an intense desire to put my mouth on hers the minute I see her, damn what anyone else may think about it. Bailey and I have kept our relationship under wraps, which is for the good of everyone involved. But right now, I think I’m willing to risk it.
“Hello Mr. Blackwood,” I hear from somewhere in the center part of the floor, which holds all of the cubicles. One of the secretaries catches my eye.
I nod. “Hello, Allison.”
I head down the hall, cubicles to my right and executive offices on the left. The corner of Bailey’s desk comes into view, and my pulse starts throbbing with anticipation.
It’s like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head when I realize her desk is empty. I frown because there’s nowhere she could be other than possibly the restroom or maybe the kitchen. I mentally shrug, then head into my office, knowing she should be back soon and will find me. I drop my briefcase on one of the guest chairs, take off my jacket, and throw it over the back of the same.
The first thing I need to do is make reservations for dinner with Bailey tonight. I’m thinking somewhere small and quiet will do the trick. We can relax with a nice bottle of wine, then catch up with each other before I take her back to her house and fuck her brains out.
As I round the corner of my desk, I see a lone piece of paper that looks oddly out of place. A sense of foreboding prickles at the back of my neck. I reach for the document, holding it up to read.
It’s dated today.
Dear Mr. Blackwood,
Please accept this letter as my notice of resignation with the Blackwood Corporation. I appreciate the opportunity you have given me. I have learned a lot in my tenure with your company.
Sincerely,
Bailey Robbins
PS… I had the pleasure of meeting your wife today.
With a mixture of shock and repulsion, I stare at the words with Bailey’s signature in blue ink. So few words to call an end to our relationship.
I’m assailed with a myriad of emotions. Slight guilt she found out about Madison this way.
Anger she found out about Madison this way because I have no doubt who orchestrated Madison’s visit.
And absolute despair I may have fucked things up so badly she’ll never forgive me.
I reach for my phone, scroll through my contacts to a number I rarely call, and tap on it.
It dials through to my wife, and she answers on the second ring. “Darling… are you back in town?”
Ignoring the “darling,” and choking back the slight bit of nausea it produces within me. I hold absolutely no affection for Madison Blackwood.
“Where are you?” My tone is cold and ominous. If she has any smarts, she’ll say she’s on her way to