Chapter 1

For years, while my husband ran his crime family and took other women to bed, I threatened to find a lover of my own.

By the hundredth time, Lewis James didn't even look up from the ledger on his desk.

“Mrs. James.” A cigarette hung from his lips, smoke drifting across his faint smile. “A hundred threats, and you still haven't fucked another man. Aren't you getting tired of this?”

I stood across from him in the study, where men twice his age waited for permission to speak. Behind me, his guards had shut the doors. They knew better than to witness an argument between the boss and his wife.

They also knew how those arguments ended.

I would threaten to make him regret it. He would leave. I would still be there when he came home.

His phone buzzed beside the ledger.

He glanced at the screen, and his expression softened in a way I hadn't seen directed at me in years. Then he tilted it toward me, just long enough for me to see her name.

“Take your time, sweetheart. My girl's waiting.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and reached for his shoulder holster. A moment later, the guards fell into step behind him, and I heard him tell his driver where to go.

Not a meeting. Not family business.

Her apartment.

I watched the study door swing shut. For once, I didn't follow him or demand that he come back.

He had stopped believing me long ago.

That night, I finally stopped waiting for him to.

A month later, Lewis returned to the estate.

His convoy rolled through the iron gates just after dark. I was curled up on the couch when he came into the sitting room, loosening his tie.

“Well, Mrs. James. Did you finally find yourself a boy toy?”

I said nothing.

He gave a quiet laugh and dropped his keys onto the table.

“Didn't think so.”

He leaned against the arm of the couch, utterly at ease.

“Letty, after what happened in high school, you can barely stand having a man touch you. I'm the only exception.” His gaze traveled over my face. “You really expect me to believe you could let someone else into your bed?”

My phone vibrated against my palm.

He was still smiling when I looked down.

Letty, we're having twins.

Beneath the message was an ultrasound photo.

I stared at the two small shapes, my fingers tightening around the phone.

Then another message appeared.

Give me three days. I'm coming to marry you.

……

Lewis finally noticed I was no longer listening.

“Am I talking to myself?”

The softness he'd worn while reading his mistress's message was gone. He used that tone with his soldiers when they failed to follow an order. Until recently, it had worked just as well on me.

I looked up at him.

Ten years. I'd spent ten years studying that face, learning every shift in his expression, every warning in his silence.

Seven years together. Three years married.

I remembered his proposal. The man who could order an execution without raising his voice had fumbled the ring and started his speech twice. At our wedding, he'd cried as he promised to love me for the rest of his life.

I'd believed him. Even with armed men stationed outside the church, I'd felt completely safe.

Then came the first night he didn't come home.

The argument afterward. His refusal to tell me where he'd been. The bedroom door slamming hard enough to shake the frame.

I'd sat on the balcony until dawn, listening for footsteps that never came.

After that, there had always been another excuse. Another woman. Another promise I'd wanted badly enough to believe.

A hundred chances. A hundred threats. A hundred disappointments.

I'd expected this homecoming to hurt, too. Instead, I watched his mouth move and wondered when I'd stopped needing anything he had to say.

My thoughts drifted to someone else.

Cool lips against my forehead. Hot skin beneath my palms. Hands that had waited for me to reach for them before touching me.

I remembered how easily I'd leaned into him. How, for once, I hadn't needed to brace myself.

I loved every part of him.

Being with him felt more natural than being with Lewis ever had. And he'd loved me for ten years, through all the years I'd spent loving the wrong man.

I stood.

Lewis was a full head taller than me. Usually, this close, I found myself watching his jaw instead of meeting his eyes.

This time, I looked straight at him.

“Lewis.”

“What?”

“The divorce papers are on your desk. Read them and sign. We still have time to get to my lawyer's office before it closes.”

His expression went still.

I waited a moment, then stepped around him and headed for the foyer. Beyond the front windows, one of his guards stood beside the idling car.

I'd need to tell the driver we were making another stop.

As I passed Lewis, I caught the perfume on his shirt.

Gardenia.

Once, he'd had the estate's gardeners plant them beneath our bedroom windows because I'd told him they were my favorite.

I hadn't bought a single stem since I'd first smelled them on another woman's clothes.

I slipped out of my house shoes.

“Oh, and your peace lily.” I glanced back. “I forgot to water it. It's dead.”

His lips tightened.

I knew that look. It usually gave me a few seconds to soften what I'd said before his temper broke.

I reached for my shoes.

“I'm not asking for money. You can keep the estate, too. Everything is in the agreement. Have your lawyer check it if you want.”

He didn't answer.

“The only thing I'm taking is Edamame.”

His gaze sharpened at the dog's name.

“I know you bought him for me. But I'm the one who's been here feeding him, walking him, taking him to the vet. You've barely been home for years.”

I paused, surprised by the small catch in my voice. I could discuss leaving my husband without flinching. The thought of leaving my dog was different.

“I'm not giving him up.”

Lewis remained by the sitting room door.

“I boarded him yesterday,” I continued. “Between the paperwork and moving, I'll be busy for the next few days. I'll collect him once I'm settled.”

Still nothing.

I fastened my shoe and looked up.

Lewis had crossed the foyer without my noticing. He stood close enough to block my view of the front door, studying me as though I'd spoken a language he almost understood.

For a moment, I expected questions. Which lawyer? Where was I moving? Who had helped me?

Then he laughed.

“Baby. Who put you up to this?”

I straightened.

“The threats weren't working, so now you've had papers drawn up?” He shook his head, almost fondly. “You want a divorce?”

I met his eyes.

“Nobody put me up to anything, Lewis. I want a divorce.”

He waited for the condition. The demand that he leave her, come home, choose me.

There wasn't one.

“For real this time.”