Chapter 23 I drop my keys in a small Bizen-yaki bowl in the foyer and stride into the living room. The lights come on automatically as the system detects my movements. No sign of Fiona. She hasn't called, either. It's already after ten. Where is she? When is she going to contact me? Or is she doing this on purpose to be passive-aggressive? Should I make the first move and reach out to her? A rattling sound comes from one of the windows facing the backyard. Bang, bang, bang. Not rattling this time, knocks. Who the hell managed to get past security? I reach for a Glock just in case, but a figure presses itself on the glass from the other side of the window. I blink to make sure I'm not imagining things. Limp hair covers most of the face, but I could recognize Fiona even if she hid her face in a paper bag. She wasn't in the best mood when she walked out. I hoped she'd had time to calm down and think things through, but her wild look makes me lose that hope. Well, tears, screams, it doesn't matter. I can do this. I open the French door to the backyard and step outside. "What are you doing out here? Why didn't you come inside?" She pushes the hair out of her face and squints at me. "Seriously?" She snorts. "Apparently, I'm not supposed to be inside your house. That's what the guy who let me pass through the gates said. So I told him I'd wait out in the backyard until you got back from work or wherever." "You should've come inside anyway." "And get arrested? Your housekeeper apparently set the security system." "I would've bailed you out." She shoots me a skeptical look. Guess I deserve that, based on our interactions since I crashed the wedding. If this had been when she first barged into my office, I would've relished seeing her squirming behind bars. But now, such pettiness seems low- Whoa. The abrupt thought leaves me dazed for a moment. When did the sharp edge of my anger start to dull? I always told myself I'd never let it go. It wasn't just a matter of being vindictive, but self-preservation. Only idiots repeat the same mistake. I refortify my emotional and mental shield, stiffen my spine and gesture at her to come in. "Come on. Let's get you inside." Stilettos dangling from her hooked index finger, she walks past me. The scent of freshly cut grass wafts from her. I resist an absurd urge to hug her and take a moment to be glad that she's okay-and she's back. Part of me says she'd better be back to pay off the two million. But another part is just relieved she doesn't seem harmed. Fiona sniffs. "You smell like cigars and alcohol. Did you go out after work?" Her eyebrows pinch in irritation, and the tight vise that's been around my skull all afternoon and evening eases. I almost laugh with relief. It's good that her spirit hasn't been broken after her encountering Mom's psychotic behavior. I can deal with an angry Fiona. I just can't with a Fiona who is sad and lost. "Yeah." I close the French door and gesture toward a couch, which she promptly takes. I sit next to her, facing her with one knee bent and on the couch. "What about it?" I keep my tone nonchalant and casual. "Wow. You weren't even worried about what happened this morning. But of course it wasn't you Zoe threatened, just me and possibly some other women." The reminder makes me scowl. "Trust me. I'm definitely on her radar. Both of us are." I take a moment to gather the thoughts and the arguments I made in the morning to convince her that a quick marriage is the best way to get Mom off our backs. Given the state of panic Fiona was in, I'm not sure how much of it stuck. For all I know, she might've dumped all my words along with her stomach contents. She scrutinizes me skeptically. "Did she send you a picture of a severed finger, too? Because I don't think she did. If she had, you wouldn't be so calm." "What?" The vise around my head retightens. "Show me." She unlocks her phone and pushes it in my face, her hand slightly shaky. I study the picture, my heart thudding heavily. It looks like a photo to hang on a wall for a low-budget Halloween party. The lighting's third rate, and the background is just a concrete floor. The finger is feminine, with a long nail. I stare at it for a while. No way to tell if it's from last night's redhead. I didn't pay attention to her hands. But Harvey's warning is genuine. Mom's had twenty-two years to strategize and prepare. I recall her determined expression when she tried to kidnap me and my brothers. The proud conviction that she was doing the right thing, no matter what anyone else said. She no longer just wants the family back. No, she wants the power her father wields-since it's the only thing that kept her under control. The condition that forbids her from approaching us is over. Vincent is old and sick. Nothing can stop her now. "I can't tell if it's real," Fiona adds in a small, subdued voice. For a nanosecond, I debate lying, but opt for the truth. Fiona deserves that much. "Mom wouldn't send a fake photo. It'd make her look weak if we found out." Fiona pales so fast that I ready myself to catch her. She sways a little, but rallies without my help. "What am I going to do?" she mutters, pressing the heels of her trembling hands against her temples. "I've already given you the solution. We can get married." "That's not a solution. That's the worst thing out of your mouth. We don't even like each other. How is a marriage supposed to work?" Fiona isn't saying anything I haven't thought of-but when she says it, it sounds so much worse. Like she's declaring how much she hates me because I was falling in love with her until I discovered her in bed with Jude. I already know she doesn't respect or care for me-you don't cheat on someone you respect and care about. But hearing it still hurts, salt on an old wound that hasn't quite healed. With the pain comes a spark of anger. She shouldn't get to scratch at the old wound, even if my own damn mother is pushing us into an impossible situation. I'm trying to be the good guy here and save both our asses. She should demonstrate some appreciation, not scoff. "And your mom hates me now." Fiona gets to her feet and starts pacing. "She's pissed that I'm not the one she sent you." My mouth dries. "How does she know?" Did Red spill the beans? Given how terrified she seemed of my mother, I thought she'd keep her mouth shut and pretend everything went according to plan. "Aaron talked. There's nobody he wouldn't throw under the bus to save his own butt." Motherfucker. I never liked him. What little respect I had for him dropped to nothing when Fiona revealed that he expected her to fix his financial mess. Now I outright despise him. Fiona continues: "She wants a baby. There's no way I'm getting pregnant with your child, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to have a baby with me either. So how is a piece of paper going to fix our problem?" "We don't have to have a baby to fix the problem," I state flatly as my mind lays out all the facts in a logical sequence. "Oh, really? Because Mommy dearest sure seemed set on one when she was holding that corkscrew to my eye!" I raise a placating hand. "If you're family, she can't touch you." "Not convinced." Fiona stops pacing and glares at me. "I'm not even thirty, Bryce. I can't risk dying in the next few months because I happened to displease your mother." She rips at her hair. "Why is my life like a bad soap opera?" I let out a hollow laugh. "Because you got tangled up with people with a bad soap opera life?" She gives me a look. "Oh, please. You?" I nod. "Mom probably didn't tell you this, but she tried to kidnap me and my brothers when we were little. Josh and I were eight, and Ares was ten. She fed us cookies with something that made us lethargic and malleable, and she caught Ares. Josh and I escaped." My voice gets rough as I relive the moment. The terror and helplessness that should have faded still feel fresh and vivid in my mind. The old guilt lingers. Fiona's face betrays confusion and disbelief. Guess it wasn't something that could happen even in her wildest "bad soap opera" scenario. "She did it out of 'love.' To avoid divorce. She thought if she could keep us, she'd keep the perfect family. It didn't matter what she had to do or who she had to hurt as long as she could keep the family whole. I don't know how she felt after she lost me and grabbed Ares instead. I was her 'good boy'-the one she loved the most." My mouth twists with bitterness. "To her, I was probably the one who should've understood the best, gone along with her plan. To this date she calls me her good boy." Red called me the same thing, and remembering causes a wave of revulsion to wash through me. I clench my hands to hide the reaction. Need to lay out the relevant facts... Horror ripples over Fiona's expression. A hand covers her mouth as she stares at me. "Ares escaped. He always was strong. Still is. Mom eventually got caught, but didn't suffer any real consequences. No jail time. No condemnation. Not because my family forgave her. My grandmother would've flayed her alive, but Vincent-my mom's father-was simply too powerful a crime lord for the family to cross." Fiona's eyes widen. Probably never guessed a family as respected as the Huxleys would be tied to the mob through marriage. "The compromise was that Dad got full custody of us and the divorce he wanted. I was relieved, since I didn't want anything to do with my mother. But the family elders conveniently forgot to mention that she could try to worm her way back into our lives once all of us kids had turned thirty. Guess they either didn't want to worry us...or maybe they hoped she'd find somebody else during those years and start another family to be obsessed with." I shrug. "But she didn't, did she?" Fiona says hoarsely. "No. She apparently spent all that time obsessing about us." "And your stepmom," Fiona adds. "Zoe mentioned her." "I'm sure, but she won't touch my stepmom." She can't afford to, no matter how much she despises Dad's second wife. Akiko is a master at playing politics within the family. She understands and respects the complicated family dynamics and history and has never expressed any desire to rock the boat, so to speak. She'd never keep us away from Zoe if we wanted to see her, but if my mother crosses Akiko, she'll strike back using everything at her disposal. And as a member of a powerful zaibatsu, she's a lot more influential than she lets on. Mom already has too many enemies. She doesn't want to add another power player to the list. Fiona continues to look at me, her eyes unblinking as she processes what I'm telling her. I consider my words, to impart the seriousness of the situation without overly alarming her. "Vincent-my mother's father-is older and has grown much more sentimental about family. He seems to regret the decision he made to save Mom and discard us the way he did. Based on his behavior, I'm guessing he thought my brothers and I would understand his untenable situation and let it go. Except we didn't. As far as we're concerned, that side of the family doesn't exist. So he's overcompensating, insisting that Mom and her brother bring about a tearful, heartfelt reunion between us and him." "What happens if they fail?" I run a finger across my neck. "Or maybe something worse, if their mob brains can think of nastier options." I shrug. "Outwardly, it's about the family reunion, but in reality, it's about control over the mob. Mom knows she has a better chance of swimming to Mars, so she's trying to create a great-grandchild to soften his heart." Understanding dawns on Fiona's face. I give her a few minutes to think it through and figure out the implications. Finally, she exhales and shakes her head. "That still doesn't mean we should get married. I have plans for my future that include a man who loves me and a family I can really belong to. I'm not going to throw that away just to keep your mother away." Fiona's dream isn't unreasonable, but the idea of marrying a man who'll love her makes my jaw clench. The nasty, acidic feeling in my belly is jealousy. I'm not dumb enough to deny that. Unfortunately, the awareness doesn't lessen the frustration of knowing that I'm never going to be that man. I can't be, when I'll wake up every morning wondering if today's the day she'll betray me. I could try giving her another chance, but in my experience, people never change, not where it counts. Just look at my own mother. A moment of hesitation was all it took for her to take advantage. The fact that she got to hurt Ares kills me. I should've been the one who was grabbed and left to die in that fire. "Okay, let's say we don't get married." I recline and stretch out my legs. "What's your plan to get my mom off our backs?" Surprise fleets over her face, and her expression softens for a second before it firms. "Our backs? I'm going to worry about mine, thank you very much." "Fine. Your back." She glares at me. "I don't know, since it hasn't been twenty-four hours since I got this big news thrown in my face. But don't worry. I'll figure something out." "If you think going to Wisconsin will save you, you're wrong. She has tentacles everywhere in the country. If she doesn't want to send her own men out there, it doesn't take that much money to hire someone." Fiona's jaw drops. "Are you trying to scare me into marrying you?" I shrug. "Just giving you the full picture. Mom doesn't care what she has to do or who she has to hurt to get what she wants. The ends always justify the means. And she holds a grudge." "That's..." Fiona shakes her head, like she can't think of a word. But then, Mom has that kind of effect on people. "So she's literally going to kill me for having gotten in her way last night and continue to drug you to get women pregnant?" Horror and shock twist her face. "Oh my God, she's basically attempting to have you raped to suck up to her father." "I guess." "It doesn't bother you?" Fiona asks in a hoarse whisper. I shrug again. "It's just...what it is. Mom has never cared about anyone else's agency or consent. She just does what she wants." Fiona gives me the strangest look. If I didn't know better, I might think it was pity or sympathy. She doesn't seem to notice the tears filling her eyes, probably because they aren't falling. The unexpected intensity of her reaction is stunning. I start to open my mouth to tell her I'm used to it and it isn't a big deal, but- "I don't know how you can sound so blasé. The Bryce I knew in college would never have been okay with somebody messing with his life like that. You were always headstrong and proud, and I admired that about you because those were two traits I wished I had." Her voice cracks. Her broken tone clenches my heart, and the horror and sympathy in her words take me back to the past, when she fooled me into thinking she reciprocated my feelings. She exhales softly. "One year with the two million dollars between us cleared and settled. I want to give us an opportunity to live our lives freely without anybody meddling in them. I'm hoping that by then, your mother will give up or her brother will find a way to deal with her." The depth of my desire to want to take her at face value is terrifying. But I can't allow people I love to get hurt because I stupidly believe someone I shouldn't. The guilt would destroy me. So I force a light laugh. "A year? Are you kidding? Do you think you're worth two million dollars a year?" Fiona shoots me a death glare. I continue, "I say you owe me two years-actually, more like four. No, really more like forty." "How did you get to forty?" "Fifty thousand a year?" If this were a video game, her rage gauge would explode. Her chest heaves as she puts her hands on her hips. "Bryce, I know it's difficult for you to understand, but I'm not as cheap as you think." I should quit pressing her buttons, but I can't stop. "It would be difficult-" "Arrrgh!" She comes at me, her face crimson with rage and a finger pointed in my chest. But she steps on one of the discarded stilettos, losing her balance and pitching forward. She grips my shoulders to catch herself. At the same time, I catch her waist, cushioning her fall with my body. She immediately pushes herself up, sitting in my lap. From the fury burning in her eyes, it's obvious she's pissed at my provocation and her own clumsiness. I don't think she realizes that she's sitting directly on my crotch. My blood, meanwhile, flows south, my body completely oblivious to her anger. I had her for hours last night, but I want her again. Badly. "You make it so hard for me to be nice to you," she says between gritted teeth. I smile up at her, lifting my hips so she can feel my hardening cock. "I don't know. I think you're being pretty nice." The flush on her face spreads to her neck and chest. "You bastard." My grin widens. "From time to time." I hold her hips and rock against her, making sure to give her the stimulation that never fails to excite her. Her breathing shallows. "Let me go, you jerk." "Me, a jerk?" I widen my eyes innocently. "You're the one who threw yourself at me." "You provoked me." "Just correcting your math." She wraps her hands around my neck, tightening her grip. I palm the sweet curve of her pelvis and ass. "You gonna choke me, baby?" Her eyes narrow. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" "If I get to be inside you at the same time." I rock my hard dick against her. Heat flares in her eyes, but there's also a tinge of self-directed cringe and fury. "You're impossible!" "So kiss me. Make me shut up," I dare her, looking at her soft, sweet mouth. Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. "Don't even think about it." "What's the difference? Is your mouth more precious than your pussy?" "Too intimate. It would almost be like I liked you." The flat statement cuts. It hurt when I realized she never reciprocated my feelings ten years ago, but being told right to my face raises the pain to a whole new level. I hate it that she makes me feel this way. Well, who cares if she doesn't like me? She still craves my body. I want to feel her clench around me, climaxing from my touch. I unbuckle my belt, then push down my pants and underwear. I shove at her skirt and slip a finger past the thin fabric of her thong, almost groaning at how slick she is. "Your mouth might hate me, but your pussy loves me." I dip a finger into the opening, getting her juices on my finger. Her own fingers flex, but she doesn't move away. I glide the pad of my thumb over her clit. Her eyes start to flutter closed. I tap her clit twice, eliciting a sharp gasp. "Look who's making you feel good." Her eyes blink open, glazed with rising pleasure. "Tell me you want me," I command, watching her flush with need. Her teeth dig into her lip. "Oh, I forgot, your mouth doesn't want me." I push three fingers into her. Her back bows, her chest shuddering. Using my free hand, I undo the belt and buttons of her trench coat and shove it off her shoulders. The arch of her spine pushes her pretty tits against the fabric of her shirt. I cup her breast and run my thumb back and forth across the nipple. Her pelvis moves to the rhythm of my plunging fingers, bliss unfurling over her beautiful face. I watch her expression break, her lips part, as she struggles to breathe. A glimmer of triumph shimmers in my veins. She can claim that she dislikes me, how I'm all wrong for her, but her body knows better. My dick grows impossibly hard. Her cream drenches my shaft. The urge to shove into her tight depths is strong, but I resist the base desire. I remove my hand from between our bodies. She moans in protest. I lay my cock along her folds and rock against the slick channel. The tip of my penis bumps against her throbbing clit with each glide. Her fingers dig deeper into my shoulders as she grinds her hips against me, writhing shamelessly. I move faster and harder, holding her close, our bodies pressed tightly against each other. Somehow the act of doing it on a couch with just enough body parts exposed for sex feels lewder and more illicit than being naked. The ceiling lights shine on her face as her tension builds. She throws her head back as she catapults into climax. Her flesh spasms along my shaft, and I can't hold back. I come, the thick white fluid spurting against her. My cum mixing with her slick juice is a sight to behold. We lie together for a moment, recovering. Then I pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. That was just a small taste. Time for the main course...and to prove to her how much her body wants mine. In "CEO Wife's Secret" by CrushReel, a gripping tale of romance, billionaire lifestyles, and hidden truths unfolds. As a devoted mother working part-time to support her children, she vanished into obscurity until the CEO locates her after five long years. However, their reunion is complicated by the interference of another mysterious woman. Can they navigate the tangled web of secrets and rebuild their fractured relationship amidst these challenges? Delving into themes of sacrifice, resilience, and the complexities of love in a modern setting, this ongoing story explores the clash between duty and desire. Against the backdrop of opulent mansions and concealed identities, the characters grapple with trust, betrayal, and the pursuit of happiness against all odds. 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