Page 41 of Broken Vows
“Geoff was in on it?” I blink before shaking my head. “Of course Geoff was fucking in on it. Did he actually get demoted, or did he quit, thinking I’d just support the two of you indefinitely?”
Her face goes pinched, but she doesn’t say a word. “It’s hilarious,” she hisses, “that you think you can give me advice about my marriage. You’ve been cheating on Lynley for years. There’s no way in hell she’ll ever forgive you, especially knowing that you were fucking me, too. And in her house.” She says it with such malicious glee that I blanche. In the mess of everything that happened today, I haven’t really thought about what Lynley walked in on. Not really.
I’ve never thought twice about breaking my marriage vows—it was what men in my position did. My father has never been loyal to my mother but as long as he paid for her lifestyle, she looked the other way. But Lynley wasn’t my mother. I knew she would never just be okay with my…extracurriculars, so I never dared to bring anyone back to the home I shared with her and our children. It was too risky, and it felt disrespectful. Our home has always beenherspace, so I kept all my “dealings” to the office, nearby hotels, or even my car, but now…And itwas goddamn Caroline.
I’d come home to an empty house, divorce papers in hand. Lynley wouldn’t pick up any of my calls, and I couldn’t even be sure she was at her mother’s. I could feel myself spiraling, so when Caroline turned up, cooing in sympathy, it had been so damn easy to lose myself in her, letting myself temporarily forget everything else.
It was also the easiest way to shut her up, slapping a palm over her mouth when I fucked into her, chasing the high of an orgasm that would fade all too goddamn quickly.
I rub a hand over my jaw, cursing softly. “I’ll figure it out,” I tell her firmly. “Lynley… She loves me. I’ll explain everything, and she’ll come around.”
A sly look flashes through Caroline’s eyes right before they dip away from mine, as if she is suddenly shy. “I’ve got another idea…” Her voice has gone all soft, demure, and suspicion brews in my chest.
“Yeah?”
She steps toward me with a soft smile, most of her lipstick rubbed off. “Don’t worry about Lynley.” She glances at the envelope holding the divorce papers. “Sign, Christopher, and you can be with me.”
I roll my lips between my teeth, trying to hide my amusement. “Tell me you aren’t serious.”
She has a hand stretched out as if to touch me, but, at my words, her arm falls uselessly to her side. “Come on,” she persists. “I’m much more suited to you, and to the Delcourts. Your mother already loves me, and I know she never liked Lynley. We’re good together?—”
“I never even wanted you,” I bite out harshly, and her face flushes again, the splotchy color traveling down her neck. She sneers, and I sit here, thinking that she’s neverlooked uglier. She’s never held a candle to my wife, and it’s something that Caroline has never forgotten.Or forgiven.
“You can keep telling yourself that, but considering we fucked an hour ago, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.” A smirk tips up her lips, eyes gleaming with triumph.
I let out a mild scoff. “Weren’t you the one saying I fuck anything in a short skirt? It’s not a compliment, Caroline.” I level a stone-cold stare on her. “You could’ve been anyone.”
“You’re such an asshole.” She puckers her lips, looking like she just sucked on a lemon. “Whatever. The blackmail still stands.”
There’s a sharp pain blooming behind my left eye, and I press my fingers to my temple, rubbing small circles there. “Jesus Christ.”
“Look, Christopher,” she clips out, suddenly all business-like, despite the still-mussed hair and smudged makeup. Regret sour in my stomach, I watch as she grabs her bag, pulling her shoulders back like she isn’t some low-class whore—one who has no problem sleeping with her sister’s husband for money. “You need to fix this, and I don’t care how.”
“Caroline,” I say tiredly. “You were blackmailing me over Lynley finding out.” I hold my arms out wide. “Still not sure how you haven’t noticed, but she fucking knows.” A slow rumble of anger slides through my gut, surprising me when it’s firmly directed in my wife’s direction.Still, a decade of marriage—one where she was happy—and now she’s throwing it all away without even giving me the courtesy of a conversation.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ll fix this,” I promise, even though I’m not entirely sure how. “Lynley can’t leave me. She’s got no job and no prospects of one. She won’twant to share custody of the kids, but I’ll fight her for it… Unless she agrees to stay with me.” I pin Caroline with a steely look. “I’ll fix this, but I need you to back the fuck off until I do. No more blackmail, no more fucking.”
She squints. “What about your prenup? If she has evidence like she said?—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snap impatiently. “I’ve got money put aside she doesn’t know about, and I’ll liquidate everything else before she even has a chance to realize what’s going on. But I’m serious, Caroline. You want things to go back to the way they were, you need to back the fuck off.”
“Well, if I can’t fuck you, you can’t fuck anyone else, either.”
My laugh is almost genuine this time. “Go home to your husband, Caroline.”
She doesn’t move for a long moment, but then huffs, strutting from the room. “You’ll come crawling back, Christopher. And I’ll be ready to say, ‘I told you so.’”
“Un-fucking-likely,” I mutter, just low enough that she doesn’t catch it. When she leaves, the door rattles in the frame, the thud echoing throughout the empty house—another sign of how different she is from her sister.
Fuck.
She doesn’t hold a candle to Lynley.
My wife is elegant, poised,gracious. I can’t even call her the calm before the storm, because there is no storm with her. Caroline always hated that people flocked to Lynley over her, but they were drawn to her natural charm, whereas Caroline never learned how to hide her sharp edges or venomous attitude.
When I can’t stand the quiet any longer, I get up and head to the primary suite, checking the walk-in wardrobe,finding several empty hangers, but most of Lynley’s clothes are still here. I back out, looking around our room for other signs of her absence, and notice the bedside table on her side is bare, the framed photo of the kids that usually sits there missing. A check of her drawers shows her jewelry is missing—all of it.
The sweet scent of her perfume tickles my nose, taunting me with her absence. I backtrack out of the room and head for my home office, unlocking the bottom drawer of my desk. It’s where I keep all our important documents, like?—
