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“You. I want you.”
“Me? I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I’ve had too much time to think. You’re always on my mind.”
“You don’t know me. We’re like two ships in the night. We live like strangers!”
“You know how angry I was when I found out you weren’t wearing your rings?”
“Why does it bother you?”
“Because you’re mine.”
“This is just business, remember?. I’m not about to get involved with someone who can’t commit. We have a year to go, and in six months, your father will sign the papers. You’ll be free to do what you want. Like fuck women behind my back to create a good reason as to why we should get a divorce.”
“I don’t want to fuck other women.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to make love to you. My wife.”
My stomach clenches. It has been months since I last had sex, and the thought of another year without drives me crazy. What could it hurt if we had sex? But I resist.
“No.”
Foster gapes at me. “No? I see how you look at me. You want me, too.”
“How much of that whiskey did you drink?”
“Not much.” He holds his pinky out to me, offering my rings. “Put these on and never take them off.”
“At least for a year,” I mumble.
“Or more.” Foster backs away and aggressively pushes my rings back into place—his green eyes intense.
“What do you mean by more?”
He moves further away, retaking his seat on the couch. “Nothing you should worry about.”
My breathing is shallow as I try to regain my composure. Foster has me off balance.
“I’ll never understand you,” I admit as I shake my head. I can’t figure out why he is so angry, but it also isn’t worth my time; and after a minute of watching him down the rest of the whiskey, I leave for my bedroom. At the very least, Foster respects my privacy and doesn’t come after me in this space.
I change into a pair of gray sweats, preparing myself to work off my frustrations on the treadmill. When I come out, Foster is snoring with his head on the back of the couch. I imagine he is tired from traveling. His hand is firmly gripped around the crystal tumbler, so I remove it. He grumbles, and I swear I hear my name on his lips.
Standing back, I stare at him. He is gorgeous, but behind the flawless façade was a man who can be cruel and bitter. I just have to bide my time until our marriage is over. I would come out of it with almost a million dollars in the bank and my own apartment; I remind myself.
Foster once again grumbles, but I am already stepping into the elevator. The gym is empty, and I crank the treadmill as fast as I can without passing out. I run hard, pounding the belt. Twenty minutes later, my shirt is damp with sweat, and I feel a little better about my exchange with my husband.
As I emerge back into the penthouse, Foster is in the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair damp from a shower. His back is turned to me, so I watch his strong muscles flex as he cuts slices of cheddar cheese.
“Mrs. Black, if you like what you see, why are you so stubborn to let me make love to you?”
I freeze to my spot, unable to get words out of my mouth. I scan around to see what gave me away and notice my reflection in the stainless-steel stove hood.
“It’s not only about what you look like.”
He turns to me, and the front of him is even more breathtaking than his back. His pecs and abs are perfectly sculpted, complimenting his strong arms and shoulders. A deep V went below his waist. I could only imagine what he was hiding behind the towel.
