No Marcus.

I walk into the office and stop at reception, where Judy is sitting, scowling at the computer.

“Hey Judy,” I say. God, is my voice that loud or is it just me?

“Hey Katia,” she mumbles.

“Where’s Marcus?”

She blinks up at me. She looks . . . confused?

“You don’t know?”

“Ah,” I say, my eyes darting around. “Know what?”

“He’s gone away for two days.”

Huh?

“Did he have a business meeting?”

She shrugs. “I think so. He said this morning he had to go urgently.”

My heart sinks. Why wouldn’t he leave a note? Or call? Last night . . . in the car . . . I thought something had changed. He was different with me. Something was there. Something I’ve not felt from him. I force a smile and thank Judy, then I rush outside, pulling out my phone.

I dial Marcus.

He doesn’t answer.

I text Marcus.

He doesn’t answer.

What the hell is going on?

~*~*~*~

MARCUS

Fuck.

I stare down at my phone, seeing her missed calls, seeing her messages.

I shove it into my jacket and take another shot of whiskey. My eyes skid around the bar I’m sitting in, and I’m glad I made the choice to get away for a few days. There are people surrounding me, couples, singles, the lot, but I don’t notice any of them. Not the women who approach me. Not the bar attendant who talks to me. None of it.

All I can think about is the feeling I have in my chest.

I don’t like it.

I fuckin’ hate it.

For a moment, just a moment, I let my guard down. I let myself open up and when I did, I felt fear. For her. For my wife. I felt a genuine fear something had happened to her. It’s not an emotion I’ve experienced in my life, and it’s nothing I want to experience again. I can’t let her in. This isn’t how it’s meant to go.

I’m an asshole.

She’s a contract.

When I get back from this break, I have no choice but to take it back to that.

I have to.

CHAPTER 22

NOW

Katia

It’s been two days.

I’ve heard nothing.

Not a damned thing.

It’s the morning of the third day and I’m confused. I don’t understand what happened. I’ve tried to go over the events of that night but nothing comes to mind. I remember an amazing time in the car, but nothing to send him running with no contact. He might be away on business, but he always answers my texts. Even if it’s a simple, asshole answer.

I’m stirring my coffee. I’ve been doing this for the past twenty minutes and have yet to take a sip. It’s probably cold. I’m so deep in thought it takes me a moment to realize the front door has slammed. Shoes squeak down the hall and my head jerks up. I leap out of my chair, rushing out into the hall to see Marcus striding towards the office. His face is blank.

Scarily blank.

“Marcus, where have you been?” I cry, rushing over.

“Busy, Katia.”

His voice comes out . . . dead.

I don’t understand. What did I do?

“Marcus,” I whisper. “What’s going on?”

He turns his dark gaze to mine and I flinch. “I said,” he growls, leaning in close, “I’m busy.”

Swallowing, I watch with a breaking heart as he steps past me and walks off down the hall. Tears burn under my eyelids, and my heart aches. A deep, soul-crushing ache that hurts to the point of no return. When he disappears, I let a single tear go. It slides down my cheek and my bottom lip trembles.

When did things turn so bad?

I don’t understand.

~*~*~*~

MARCUS

Piece of shit.

Monster.

Asshole.

All this shit goes through my head as I leave her, broken.

I had to do it. You don’t understand.

I had to.

~*~*~*~

KATIA

He’s gone out again.

He said it was for a business dinner. He always takes me to those, but tonight he didn’t. He just walked past me without a word.

Something is wrong. Something has happened. I have no idea what it is, but it’s breaking me to pieces inside. He’s closed down, forced himself back more than usual.

Two days, he hasn’t spoken to me.

Two days, he hasn’t come into my bed and made love to me.

Hell, he hasn’t even fucked me.

It’s like I don’t exist.

Bit by bit, I’m slowly breaking to pieces. I’ve tried to ask him, tried to talk to him, tried to understand why he’s so shut off. He gives me nothing. Not a damned thing. So, once again, I’m sitting at home alone. Even the pint of ice cream that’s freezing my lap is not enough to ease the pain in my heart.

Bang, bang, bang.

I lift my head from my position on the lounge, and set the ice cream aside as there is more pounding on the front door. I get up, and with shaky legs I go over and open it to face . . . my Mom. She’s got a tear-streaked face and behind her is Ellie. My mom came out here? Why would she come out here?

“Mom,” I whisper. “I don’t . . .”

“He came here.”

I blink.

“Pierre. He came here.”

Oh shit.

“Momma . . .”

“He came here, he found out about you, and he made you cry!” she shrieks.

Shit.

“I was coming to see you tomorrow, things have been rough, and—”