CHAPTER EIGHT: in which he makes a resolution- JAMESON

Present day

JAMESON

“What are you doing hiding behind that plant, Jameson?” Shelia’s blue eyes grew playful in an attempt at bedroom charm. I knew what she wanted. Crowds and admiration always turned her on.

Too bad.

She would have to look elsewhere. We hadn’t slept together since before Vegas, and now that I’d found her again, Shelia was nothing more than an annoyance I had to get rid of... and fast.

“I just wanted some air, Shelia. You know I’m not good with crowds.”

Shelia’s eyes turned downward like they did when she knew I was lying. She could always tell. Hell, anyone could. I wore my emotions on my face and my heart on my sleeve.

I crossed my arms, waiting for her to call me on it, but all she asked was, “Are you ready to go home?”

“Sure,” I said, “let’s go.” It was obvious Vegas wasn’t coming back. For over thirty minutes, I’d kept my eyes trained on the hallway, waiting for her return while the past we shared kept me company.

Shelia linked her arm through mine, her nails resting lightly on my forearm. The facets of the diamond I gave her winked in the light. Once a cherished heirloom, I now hated that ring. It was a stark reminder of our sham marriage. We kept up pretenses in public, but behind closed doors, we led separate lives.

Outside, Shelia left my side to speak to an elderly couple, both with snow white hair and botched face lifts. Their expressions were so fixed, only the suit he wore identified the man from the woman next to him. Given time, my ex would be the same. When the ravages of age kicked in, Shelia would gladly lay under the surgeon’s knife.

A lanky teen with a constellation of acne came up to collect my valet ticket, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’ll have your car right out for you, sir.”

I nodded and patted my pant pocket. His eyes drew down and widened. He dashed off, smiling.

Damn shame how few people tip the valet these days.

It wasn’t so long ago I had the same job. Miles I’d run, night after night, in the snow, the wind, and the heat. Oh... that heat... and the humidity was hell. I hated how the sweat formed on my forehead and under my arms, trickling down my back like a scared toddler on a slide. That was bad, but what was worse were how the fat, rich men acted like assholes just because they could.

“Keep it close,” they would often say, their barbed tongues lashing out over their veneers. “And no scratches, boy.” The young bimbo on their arm would giggle, entertained by the sugar daddy’s wit.

Thank goodness those days are over.

My medical patents kept the coin rolling in, and my secret passion kept even more money coming my way. Too bad Shelia used it like a weapon, threatening me with exposure if I stepped out of line. Before Vegas, I didn’t think of doing so—there wasn’t a reason. Now that she was back, well... I was going balls out to get her back.

And Shelia could do her worst.

The valet drove up. I slipped the teen a twenty for his effort.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, scrambling out. He went around and opened Shelia’s door. She got in without thanking him. Not even a fucking nod. Secretly, I hoped he would close the door on her thousand dollar jacket.

“I need to stop by the convenience store on the way home and get a few cigarettes,” Shelia said, tugging on her coat. A hiss of hot air escaped through my ex’s teeth. Shelia clawed at the handle, opening and closing the door before the air conditioner escaped. Her head whipped around for the valet, gnashing her teeth. 

Since he’d disappeared, I received the full brunt of her tirade. “Would you look at what that idiot did?” I glanced down and bit my laughter back at the long black mark that slashed a line across the bottom of the white silk. 

My secret wish had come true. 

“It was an accident,” I said, nosing the car forward. “Let it go.” She wouldn’t. She never did. 

Shelia huffed, no doubt thinking of a creative way to get her revenge. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d ruined a life... or stunted one like she had mine.

Yeah, my ex was truly a dirty piece of work.

I pulled into the nearest gas station. Shelia begged me to go in. I turned up the radio, drowning out her pleas. She cursed me under her breath, slamming the car door a moment later.

I briefly thought about leaving, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched her through the windshield as she stood in line, tapping her expensive heel on the dirty tiled floor. The closer to the counter she came, the more I let my mind roam free on exactly what I wanted to do to Shelia. My jailer. My executioner. My ball breaker.

Snorts escaped me at the image of me peeling out of the parking lot, leaving her ass in the less than stellar neighborhood. I laughed until tears fell at how her blond head would whip right and left as she looked for me, the man who was nothing more than arm candy and the driver of her silver Audi. A car I’d bought and paid for.

And how I was still paying. Day after day. Night after night. I was alone and without the love of a wonderful woman, the only thing I’ve ever wanted in life. 

In the beginning, Shelia blinded me. I thought I had achieved my happily ever after with her. 

Not so.

After I caught her cheating on me with a resident doctor, I lawyer-ed up the next day. Within a week, I’d her served with divorce papers. I expected a fuss. A damn fight, at least. That didn’t happen. In fact, Shelia had readily agreed. Her only stipulation was that she tend to my needs until the divorce was final.

Naïve me thought I was getting the best of both worlds. I’d get a no fuss divorce, and I wouldn’t have to look far for quick gratification.

Little did I know it was Shelia’s way of keeping me under her thumb. When I’d finally figured it out, I ended all physical contact, but not before she had what she needed to ruin me.

Why had I let her suck me in again?

It was my fault. I knew what a manipulative bitch she was. Three years of marriage had taught me that. I should have never let her spend the night with me when someone ransacked her apartment. My first instinct was to drop her off at a hotel and wash my hands of the whole situation. We were getting a divorce; I had no stake in her. It was stupid of me to come to Shelia’s rescue, but her pleading wore me down.

The next morning, I awoke to the shuffling of papers and the clacking of a keyboard.

Her name soured on my tongue even as my mind spoke it in terror. When I entered my study, the one I stupidly forgot to lock, there she was, behind my computer, rifling through my files.

I stood helpless in the doorway while impotent rage and shame alternating for dominance of my soul. Shelia’s triumphant smile told me she’d found what she was looking for. The very something that would once again bind me to her, despite us on the road to Splitsville.

Shelia had turned the laptop in my direction and when I saw what was on the screen, I died a thousand deaths.

All I could think about was Vegas and how she would react. Once I found her, that is.

Vegas.

I’d never stopped believing in her...in us. We became fated with her tap on my shoulder. That one simple touch struck an ember in me and ignited a fire I thought had long since died out.

Vegas.

She disappeared that morning after, and I had no way to contact her. A few days later, I’d hired an investigation firm run by an old friend of mine and they found... nothing.

Not so this time.

Her ditching me at the fund raiser only prolonged the inevitable of us being together. Her boyfriend ... no, her fucking fiancé would lead me to her all right. The prick was easy to find. He was running for mayor, after all.