Chapter 7 Music loud enough to split skulls booms in the dimly lit VIP room at Z. Top-shelf bottles of liquor litter the bar, and women gyrate around in outfits that could get them arrested for indecent exposure. Strippers, strippers and more strippers. This isn't my kind of scene, but I need an outlet. I've been too restless since seeing Fiona a few weeks ago. Nightmares with Mom trying to kidnap us keep reoccurring, and they always end with Fiona calling my name. Recently, though, the finale to the dream has morphed into her not only calling my name but kissing me senseless. Waking up with tingling lips and morning wood isn't a good way to start the day, especially when they're caused by a devious, duplicitous ex. I still can't forget the way she looked in my bed with Jude, long hair disheveled and lips swollen. Or the cruel, taunting words she said, each one a bag of acid that exploded on impact. The weird texts about her-and photos-that started in the last two weeks haven't helped either. They constantly disrupt the calm I'm trying to achieve. I keep blocking them, but whoever's behind the harassment continues to get new numbers. If I find out who's behind it, I might just feed them into a wood chipper. -Unknown: Don't you owe her one? So do the right thing. Why should I? The taunting question begs to be texted, but I hold back. I'm not taking the bait. The longer I glare at the text, the more it seems like the culprit is Fiona. She has to re-engage if she hopes to get my money. Well, dream on, baby. I'm not playing the game. After all, it's a tired cliché. She texted me before leaving for Wisconsin, too, claiming she wanted to explain "what really happened" with Jude. I refused. There's only one kind of bullshit excuse, the same kind Mom used when she got caught after almost killing Ares. I did it for you. I did it out of love. You're a good boy-I thought you'd understand how much I wanted us to be together. Words mean nothing. Only actions matter. My experience over the years has taught me that love can be used to justify anything, no matter how vile. "Hey, man!" Barry, an associate at the firm who planned this gathering and provided the strippers, wraps his beefy arm around my neck and shoulder. I roll my eyes with a small, friendly smile, but don't bother to pull away, since there's no escaping him. A former football player for the University of Georgia, he's one of the most physically imposing lawyers at Huxley & Webber, thick muscle all over his broad, solid frame. He tries to tone it down with bleached yellow hair, too much tan and a Georgian drawl that he lays on thick, "lahk frostin' on a cake." He even sports a vaguely stupid grin. Most clients are disappointed to learn he's their lawyer, until they discover he's one of Jeremiah's favorites. He's one of the meanest, smartest and hardest-working associates. And he never misses an opportunity to party. Ares's wedding ceremony tomorrow has provided him a perfect excuse. "Where's Ares?" he says, letting me go now that he's sufficiently happy he's done a proper man-greeting. I'd bet the year's bonus he has no idea if he's talking to me or Josh. "Home," I say. Barry's eyes widen. "What? Why? I told him about this bachelor party last week!" I snort. I know my older brother too well. "He didn't say he'd attend, did he?" "I reminded him yesterday. And this morning!" I shrug. "He's glued to his wife." Probably tasting whatever she wants to eat because she has a justifiable hangup about food. "You know that he isn't technically a bachelor, right?" Ares wants to have a big ceremony to make up for the hasty Vegas wedding. He treats her like a queen and has apparently gotten over his revulsion at being touched. True love does indeed conquer all-for some people. "Ah," Barry says, raising a sausage-sized finger. "But he doesn't remember the wedding! So he's sort of like a bachelor." "Mm. Well, you two will just have to agree to disagree. He said to tell you to spend more time with your wife." "Hey, she never complains. I'm a great husband." My eyes slide to the strippers around us. "If you say so." "I only look. Never touch." Barry raises his hands, palms out, all innocent. "Eye-fucking is eye-cheating." His jaw drops. "What century are you from?" "The twenty-first." I clasp his shoulder, then scan the area for Josh. He generally enjoys Barry's parties and would definitely come to make up for missing Barry's own bachelor party in Vegas. He was pretty sad about it, but work comes before play. I discover my twin in a corner, busy necking with some chick. Not a stripper. Her dress is tight, but not too revealing. He never lacks female companions, but then, he has a decent mug. Since he's about to get lucky, I head to the bar. My phone pings. Another unknown number, another photo. The shot shows Fiona at some store, trying on a wedding dress. My hand clenches around the phone. What's the point of this? I should look away, but I can't. The dress is classy, with a long train and intricate lace. Can she afford it? She's two million in the hole. Or is this some kind of taunt-she's marrying money, so she doesn't need me? But if she could've gotten a sugar daddy this easily, why didn't she? Surely, it would've been less bruising to her ego, unless her groom-to-be is so foul that not even two million bucks can make up for it. I tap my phone thoughtfully. Something about her behavior doesn't add up. She's lost even more weight since she barged into my office. Her fragility is more pronounced in the tight bodice, and the way it shows her bare shoulders and arms. The fact that I notice anything about her is irritating. But the angle of her pose and the way her eyes are slightly lowered-her mouth set in a vulnerable line-remind me of her on a rainy night nine years ago when we were still in school. She'd left a frat party without Jude, who was sprawled on a couch with three girls. Her various attempts to catch his eye had failed, and she probably didn't want to stick around anymore. I shouldn't care, but it was after one a.m. and raining hard. My hatred and contempt for her kept reaching new heights since the night I'd caught her in bed with him. She'd continued to debase herself for Jude's attention-a total doormat for a guy who wasn't worth it. Just what the hell did she see in him? He was popular enough, his family was wealthy enough, but he was a snake and everyone knew it. But she still simpered and hung on to him. If she'd left me for a guy who was legitimately better, I'd at least have understood. But she'd picked a complete bastard who treated her like dirt and openly cheated on her. Karma. Still, bitter satisfaction wasn't what burned in my gut. I didn't want to think too much about it, since it would only piss me off. I watched her unsteady steps from a window. Probably drunk. I looked away, reached for another beer, then stopped. If anything happened to her... Shit. I'd always wonder if I could've prevented it. Even if the victim was somebody I loathed. So I followed her out. She didn't get into a car-Jude must have driven-and didn't have an umbrella. She just ambled along the dark sidewalk, in and out of the few streetlights, letting the chilly early-spring rain soak her. I glanced at my umbrella, then at her. Nah. That was more interaction than I wanted. Ever since her betrayal, I'd looked straight through her. Let her words glide off me without showing anything to her. She was dead to me the moment she backstabbed me. I maintained a few yards between us. She didn't seem to notice anybody was following. Jesus. Shouldn't a girl be more aware of her surroundings at night? She could get into trouble. Stop sounding like you care. Suddenly, the rain intensified, wind picking up. A blinding bolt of lightning split the sky. She stopped and looked up at the streetlight to her right. Her lashes fluttered in the rain, and her mouth pressed tight, the corners turned downward. Her shoulders heaved slowly. If she was crying, the drizzling water hid the tears. An instinctive impulse to reach out surged, and I squelched it-hard. She didn't deserve to be comforted, especially not by me. If she regretted choosing Jude over me... Well, too late for buyer's remorse. Still, that image of her in the rain has been etched to my subconscious. And the photo that just arrived reminds me of that night for some reason. Did she know I was following her? Is she sending me these things because she thinks there might be some kernel of care for her still inside me? Something other than sheer loathing? If she thinks she can leverage me against myself, she's mistaken. I'm not going to bail her out of the trouble she's in. What Josh said about her becoming a trophy wife or mistress pops into my head. Let her marry some old geezer. I don't care. I really don't. My belly burns like there's a hole in my gut. I grab a glass of whiskey, then block the number and let out a sigh of frustration. I'm not finding an outlet for my restlessness here tonight. Maybe call one of the girls? But no one looks good as I thumb through my contact list. My cousin Huxley Lasker would know some hot model. On the other hand, he's still in the honeymoon phase of his marriage and wouldn't welcome an interruption late at night. I'm not sure how long it's supposed to last. For God's sake, they have a baby, but they're still lovey-dovey. Sometimes they don't even act married, more like teenagers being stupid in love. "Hey, Josh!" A pair of arms wrap around my neck, and a stunning brunette presses her huge, firm tits against my chest. "I missed you," she coos, long fake lashes fluttering as she looks up at me adoringly. A thin film of sweat covers her otherwise lanky body. The dark mirror behind her reflects her backside. Her ass is rather lacking. Huh. Not Josh's type. I tilt my head and gaze at her thoughtfully. Has my twin ever slept with her? "How did you get invited?" "Barry said I could come. And you did too when I texted you, silly! You said you'd be in a white shirt and black jacket." Her hand roams over both. My eyes flick to Josh-no jacket. That asshole. "Why did you run out like that?" the brunette says, pushing her breasts harder against my chest. "We never got to talk about the next step." I lean back and swallow the whiskey. "There's a next step?" "Well, duh. Every relationship has a logical next step." She looks up at me expectantly, like I should know. Except I don't. The one I thought would go somewhere ended in betrayal. The subsequent ones... Well, they fizzled, like soda left under the SoCal sun for too long. "Like...?" "Marriage!" I cough up my whiskey. Holy shit. How the hell do you go from a casual fuck to marriage in "one logical step"? "I want to marry well. To a young, handsome, rich guy. I mean, if I have to marry, I might as well marry one who's got everything, right? Besides, you were amazing in bed. And I think you liked it when I sucked you off. You didn't complain when-" "Okay, okay, okay!" Too much information, but then, she seems like the type to overshare. And be very honest about her mercenary needs. "Don't make this hard." She pouts. "I mean, I have a backup, but he's not as young or handsome. I'd really prefer to marry you." I should tell her I'm not Josh, so she can stop before she embarrasses herself further...but now I don't want to. Not after she so casually told me she has a backup, like she's proud of keeping some poor guy dangling in reserve. I feel sorry for the man. Most backup guys don't know they're backups until it's too late. Like me in college. Besides, I don't want to make things easier for my twin. He and I sometimes mess with each other, but this is going a bit too far. Not only that, he probably got tired of dealing with her, so he's trying to foist her off on me. That asshole. "You know what? That sounds about perfect." She claps her hands. "You agree, right?" "Of course! Why don't you pick out a ring, sweetheart? And send the bill to me?" Her face falls a little. "Well...but shouldn't you pick it? To show you care?" Oh jeez. She wants money and love. "Of course I care, but I have a really big case right now." I smile ruefully. "I have to win it to make partner. Don't you want to be Mrs. Joshua Huxley, the wife of a partner and a rising star at Huxley & Webber?" I sweep my hand from left to right, showing her the beautiful vista of the future she could have if she'll just buy an engagement ring and send the bill to my brother. "Oh my God." Her eyes twinkle as she clenches her hands and hops in excitement. "That sounds amazing." "I know. You're the only woman who got this far. Most women... They just couldn't hang." "Really?" "Really." I nod, putting on the solemnity I'd reserve for a murder trial-if I ever decide to practice criminal law. "You're the best of them all. The most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most charming... Imagine the kids we could have together." "Oh my God! You want kids?" she squeals. "Of course. We have to leave our legacy to someone." She hugs me. "I love you, Josh." I pat her back. "I love you too." "Let's go celebrate." She tugs at my arm. "This way." I follow her out, although I don't plan to celebrate. Now that I've exacerbated the woman problem for Josh, I plan to go home, puff a good cigar and go to bed. Our stepmom Akiko will be upset if I stay up too late and look tired in the pictures tomorrow. She's a firm believer in taking as many great photos as possible. "Who's this brainless bimbo? Your plus-one to the wedding?" comes a familiar, sneering voice, one that's always reminded me of a mixture of chicken grease and mayonnaise. I cock an eyebrow and turn to confront Jude Morven. I haven't seen him since I graduated from Harvard undergraduate. I went off to Harvard Law, and didn't care where he ended up. The bastard still looks like a snake, albeit older. The recessed lights hit his slightly wavy golden hair, neatly styled and held stiffly in place with wax. The eyebrows are probably shaped and plucked-they weren't this tidy in college. The eyes are the same cold and soulless blue. If he ever wanted to go into acting, he'd be amazing at playing serial killers; all he'd have to do was be himself. His skin is slightly tanned, which must've taken a lot of effort. The fucker burns, and he was paler than pizza dough from fall to spring in Massachusetts. He's wearing a black button-down shirt with three buttons undone and black slacks. He tries too hard to look imposing and cool, especially since his frame is on the slender side. Our enmity started in high school, with him initiating it. I never understood why until Josh told me that Jude hated me for beating him in everything. Apparently, until he met me, he was number one-in golf, tennis, academics and girls. "He can't beat you, either," I pointed out in confusion. Josh shrugged. "But you beat him first, not me. So he's fixated on you. And he's so hung up, he can even tell us apart now." Hardly anyone outside the family can tell us apart. "What a freak." It wasn't my fault Jude couldn't measure up, and I dismissed a rivalry that only he cared about. He wouldn't let it go, though, and it pissed him off that a girl he liked asked me to prom. So his much-delayed revenge was sleeping with Fiona-in my bed. The difference was that the girl in high school wasn't dating him. Fiona was in a committed relationship with me-or so I thought. The commitment obviously didn't run very deep if she could throw it away to sleep with a guy who hated my guts. Of course, I didn't let him go unpunished. I turned his face into hamburger meat. "I'm going to be his bride," the brunette crows, tightening her hold on me, which gets a smirk from Jude. Whatever confrontation is to come isn't going to be pretty. I don't want her witnessing it. "Sweetheart, go pick out your ring, okay? And call me." "I will. Love you." She wags her fingers goodbye and leaves, her step springy. Jude watches her go. "Pathetic. You always knew how to pick the worst women. Typical loser. Make sure to buy the most expensive item on the registry." Not worth an answer. "So you're getting married? To what? A water moccasin?" A corner of his mouth quirks. "Finn Oberman." I study him, my eyes level and steady. There's the same smarmy smile. The same inferiority complex. I don't believe for a second he's marrying her. He treated her like trash back in college, somebody you deign to allow to warm your bed, but would never marry. Even a piece of shit like Jude would need to have a modicum of respect to make somebody his wife. He has too much pride to marry someone "beneath" him. Fiona was just a tool he found to claim superiority over me, nothing more. Besides, she left him as soon as we graduated. Went to some dinky little town in Wisconsin and cut all ties. Didn't bother with reunions or alumni associations, either. It's like having the diploma in her hands suddenly wised her up, although it doesn't explain why she cried like her world was ending when Jude went into a coma from a nasty car crash he had a month before graduation. "You remember her, don't you? I had her send you an invite," he says, his eyes on mine, gauging my reaction. "Never got it." She hasn't contacted me since I had security drag her out of the office. Didn't even try to convince me that the favor I owed her couldn't be fulfilled by listening to what she wanted from me. Maybe she doesn't need the two million so badly after all. Or perhaps her pride couldn't handle any more abuse. Regardless, I can't decide if I'm disappointed, relieved, irritated or happy that she's staying away. "Disobedient little bitch." He glares at me, as though somehow it's my fault I didn't get the invite. "Have you ever heard her sing?" I deliberately keep my expression relaxed. She hummed for me when I was suffering from nightmares involving Mom. When Fiona cradled me like she'd protect me from the old memories of Mom's treachery and softly crooned nameless tunes with her lips so close to my temple I could feel the heat from her mouth, I could breathe easy and sink into her warm comfort. Guess that was also something Fiona and Jude laughed about. "She sings like shit." "No. She sings like an angel. You just have to coax her a little. Or, you know, she has to care about you." The nasty smile on his lips reaches his eyes as he scrutinizes my reaction. "I guess it was neither in your case." I give him a cool stare that betrays nothing, even though my insides seethe. A triumphant glint flashes in Jude's eyes. He knows he's hit a sore spot. "Jealous, aren't you? She's picking me, just like she did before," he says, then laughs as though he's thrilled he's scoring a point against me after all these years. "What's it like to know she's mine-that she was mine even when you thought she was yours?" I shoot him a condescending look. "Only a fool believes a woman's heart is worth anything, Jude. It's fickle, vicious and useless. Still, I'm happy for you. Guess she didn't tell you that you were her second choice." The smugness fades. "You're lying." "Oh, no. She came to me first. Begged me. On her knees. You should've seen how pretty she looked." His face turns red; his hands clench. He'd throw a punch if he thought he could get away with it. My smile grows genuine as I slap his shoulder, like we're best buddies. "She only went to you because I turned her down, Jude. But taking in garbage I don't want suits you, man. It's like you were born for the role." He stares at me, disbelief and outrage rolling over his face. His reaction is laughable. Did he think I'd have nothing to say? Or that I'd let him walk all over me? I straighten his shirt, smoothing the collar down a bit, then step back. "Have a happy wedding." 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. What sets "CEO Wife's Secret" apart is its nuanced portrayal of characters facing conflicting loyalties and emotional turmoil. With each revelation and twist in the plot, readers are drawn deeper into a world where status and secrecy collide with raw human emotions. Available to read at CrushReel for those seeking a captivating blend of romance and suspense set in the high-stakes world of CEOs and hidden pasts.