Page 86 of Bound Lies

I try to kid myself it’s because I’m productive, but in reality, it’s because waking up to an empty bed this morning felt like a kick in the teeth.

As I set my espresso cup on the tray and press the button to start brewing the coffee, the gold band around my ring finger catches my eye, and I almost flinch at the sight of it.

If I had my way, I wouldn’t bother wearing one, but Ronan insisted on making this marriage appear as legitimate as possible.

But until my wife can stand to look me in the eye, the ring seems like a colossal waste of time.

The moment we arrived back at the penthouse yesterday afternoon, Riley disappeared to her room to study. At the time, I believed her, but it’s been over twelve hours, and she hasn’t left her room once, not even to eat.

I’m about to bring her up a plate of breakfast when her footsteps sound, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Anyone would think you were avoiding me,” I tease in the hopes of diffusing the tension as Riley appears wearing a pair of running shorts, a Columbia t-shirt, and a scowl that would send most men running for the hills. “Do you want a coffee?” I reach for my espresso and hold it out for her.

The fact that I’m even trying to make amends has me wondering where the hell my balls have gone. But at this point, I would happily hand over the keys to every car in my garage to Brennan if it meant putting a smile back on Riley’s face, which says a lot.

Riley ignores my offer and pads over to the fridge.

I watch her every move like a hawk as she starts pulling out berries and a tub of Greek yogurt.

She still refuses to so much as look at me.

“Riley, talk to me.”

Still, I get nothing.

Grinding my teeth, I move to step in her way so that she can’t reach the bowls, but she barely even acts like I’m there. She just walks past me like I’m invisible, as if I didn’t have her legs wrapped around my waist forty-eight hours ago while she moaned my name into my mouth.

She opens up the cutlery drawer.

“Riley, I swear to God, if you don’t talk to me⁠—”

“You’ll do what?” She throws her spoon down onto the counter.

I’m so taken aback by the fact that she’s actually looking at me that my words get lodged in my throat.

“What is it you’ll do if I refuse to talk to you?”

“I don’t want to fight with you. I just…want you to act like I exist.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I thought that was the last thing you wanted! I thought you wanted me to stay the hell out of your way.”

“What?”

“Ever since I got here, you made it perfectly clear how much you hated me being around. But now that I’m doing just that, suddenly you want to talk? I can’t seem to win with you.” She abandons her quest for a bowl and snatches up the blueberries instead.

“Riley—”

But she’s already climbing back up the stairs.

I run my hand down my face as her door slams.

How the hell did I manage to fuck this up so damn quickly? Hell, maybe what I thought was building between us was one-sided, and Riley Walsh is a better liar than I thought.

I grit my teeth and try to shove the thought away as I down my espresso before taking the elevator down to the parking garage.