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Chapter 14
“Dammit, Mark, would you bring that report to me? I asked you twice already!” Foster thunders.
In my closed office, I can clearly hear my husband scream. A week off with limited communication with the office gave Foster plenty of work to go over when we arrived back in New York. A deal his attorneys were supposed to be negotiating for the piece of property he mentioned was faltering. Foster has been so livid that I’ve been hiding in my office for the past four days. Even my brand of leggy seduction can’t pull him from his wrath.
Two days of conference calls, screaming, long hours, and no sex has me on edge. At home, Foster would walk into the penthouse and peck me on the cheek before disappearing into his office. I eat alone, and I’m beginning to think my husband has two personalities. It is like I don’t exist when he is involved in business. After the time we spent together on vacation, it hurts.
When it is time to go home, I shut my laptop, gather my purse, and find Foster in the hall, talking on his cell. He barely acknowledges me as he conducts a conference call with the west coast. We both enter the packed elevator, with me crammed in one corner and Foster in the other. He didn’t seem to care that we are in a full car, and I ignore everyone by staring at my shoes as my stomach twists.
Foster continues his conversation on the drive home, finishing with his call as we pull up to our building. I bolt from the car, hurrying into the lobby. He follows far behind as I jump into the elevator and let the door close in his face as he calls my name. My eyes burn with tears, but when I get into the penthouse, Foster is already waiting for me in the foyer, having taken the freight elevator.
His eyebrows are knitted together as he glares. “That was embarrassing,” he practically snarls.
I wipe at my face and walk around him. “Fuck you.”
Foster grabs my arm, and I fight to wrench it from his grip, but he is too strong and pulls me against his body. I continue to struggle, but his arms are like anacondas.
“What’s your problem?” he snaps.
“God, if you don’t know, you’re more unaware than I thought! Let me go!” My purse drops to the floor, but I can’t break his hold.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“What happened to being hopelessly in love with me?”
His eyes widen as if offended. “I am hopelessly in love with you.”
“You don’t show it! You’ve barely talked to me since we got back. We haven’t shared a meal—it’s like we’re strangers.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
I sniff loudly. “I don’t ask for much, but you make me feel like a prostitute. You paid me to marry you, and I get the scraps except when you want to show me affection. I can’t deal with this. I love you, Foster, but I can’t take your mood swings.”
His face softens, and the hard lines on his forehead disappear as he loosens his grip. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.” Gently, he leads me to the couch, where he pulls me into his lap. It’s the closest I’ve been to him in four days, even in bed.
“Why do I even need to tell you how you’re acting?” I ask as I tuck my head against his neck.
“Everything you say is valid. I’m not used to playing husband.”
I sigh before kissing his hot skin. “You’re not playing husband. You’re my husband, and I need you to act like it. We’re not pretending anymore.”
“I’m an ass. Can you forgive me?”
“It will cost you.”
“Anything. You pick it, and it’s yours.”
“I don’t want material items; I want your time. I want to know I’m an important part of your life.”
“You are important,” he stresses. “You’re the single most important person in my life. No one compares.”
“Then act like it.”
“I promise,” he whispers.
“I don’t want cheap words,” I warn, pulling back to stare into his eyes, “I want actions.”
“Let me take you to dinner.” He fishes his phone from his pocket and powers it down. The screen goes black as he puts it back. “No distractions, just us.”
