“Maybe she just needed time to tell them gently.”
“I understood why she didn’t want to spring the surprise on them the day her brother died, but I thought she’d do it in the next few days. Certainly before the funeral. But she didn’t. Instead, she attended without me.”
“Ouch.”
Jason hated to admit even now the agony that had caused him. He’d needed to lend her support, hold her hand, and be her rock. But she’d turned away from him and anything he might have provided her. Instead, she’d disregarded their vows and elected to do everything for her family alone. In some ways, he’d been proud as hell. He’d been fucking infuriated, too.
“She barely called that first week. Never came to see me. I left her umpteen messages. It didn’t take long before she stopped returning them. A week slid into a month. I’m not unfamiliar with the mayor. I asked him to poke around to find out what the hell was wrong. He did some digging, and I learned that Gia was consoling her parents and helping her sister-in-law through an injury of some sort. She was also caring for her nephew and newborn niece.”
“She had a lot of people counting on her. Her communication could have been better, but you can’t fault her heart.”
“No. However, I can fault her for turning into a one-woman vigilante squad, determined to bring down the gangster who’d killed her brother.”
“Yeah, if you discovered that she was gunning for him, you absolutely had to deal with it.”
“And I did,” Jason confirmed. “As soon as I found out, I called and left her another message, told her that she had twenty-four hours to contact me or there would be hell to pay. I’d had enough. I missed my wife. She hadn’t let me lift a finger to help her, goddamn it.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. A day went by. Then another.” He dragged in a deep breath. “She didn’t bother to refuse; she just didn’t acknowledge me at all.”
Thorpe sat up, leaned across the desk. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Instead, she went back into that ghetto and tried to arrest the punk by herself. And he shot at her. I was fucking done.”
Thorpe winced. “I don’t blame you. What did you do?”
“I reached out to a few people, called in favors, greased palms.” Jason shifted in his chair. “I had her put behind a desk. There was no way I was going to stand by and watch her get killed.”
“I’m sure that got her attention.”
“Oh, she came to see me that night, angrier than hell and itching for a fight. I was dumb enough to give it to her. She threw her ring back at me and stormed out. Hell of an early Christmas present.” He smiled grimly and shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to her since.”
He’d tried. For months, he’d called. Not to apologize. He wasn’t going to say that he was sorry for trying to keep her safe, especially after she’d backed him into a corner. But he’d left messages asking her to fucking talk to him, to at least meet him halfway. Nothing. The last time he’d called her, he’d gotten a recording that her number was disconnected. Somewhere between fed up and worried, he’d climbed into the car and driven across the city through rush hour and road construction to her house—only to find that she’d moved out months ago and new owners had taken her place.
Never once had Gia asked for his help. She’d just picked up and carried on with her life as if he didn’t matter. No, as if he no longer existed.
Damn it, his chest throbbed again.
“These last months must have been difficult, but you did the right thing. After all, you can’t force her to submit if you doesn’t want to put herself in your hands.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.” Jason raked a hand through his hair. “Since she apparently wants nothing to do with me, I keep expecting her to file for divorce. I’m surprised she hasn’t.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Right now, that’s not possible since I can’t find her.” No, that was an excuse—and he knew it. “Even if I could, I’m not ready to quit. We only had twelve hours together as man and wife to decide if we were compatible. I’ve seen people get divorced quickly, but even that would be a record.” Besides, their time together had been damn near perfect. And he had to understand why she’d ended all contact and cut him off at the knees. He might have to give her up eventually, but he refused to do it without a fight.
“I don’t know Gia’s side of the story,” Thorpe admitted. “When she called to revoke her membership, she sounded stressed and upset. I pressed gently, but she wouldn’t talk. I’d be violating my own rules if I gave you her current contact information, but I can call and ask if she’d be willing to speak to you.” He sighed, sneaking a sideways glance at Callie. “Because if someone left me like that, I wouldn’t rest until I had answers.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter Two
Gia Angelotti sat across from Jason and tried not to visibly shake. Impossible. He always rattled her.
The restaurant she’d chosen for their meeting was loud and public, busy for a Tuesday night. Chatter filled the air, along with the faint notes of mariachi music floating from the overhead speakers. A young Hispanic man set salsa and a bowl of chips on the table between them. She barely noticed because she couldn’t do anything except stare at her husband.
God, he looked good. His dark hair appeared recently razor trimmed. His eyes lured her, such an intense crystal blue made even more striking by the two days of stubble and his stark white collar. A charcoal suit coat accommodated his broad shoulders perfectly. Then again, he’d likely had it made to fit him.
Seeing him again kicked her with a bittersweet pang. She’d missed him so much.
Tonight, they had only exchanged clipped pleasantries, and Jason looked through her like a stranger. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. But Gia knew she owed him.
A year ago, he would have kissed her breathless, then probably spanked her for the fun of it before commanding her body to stunning ecstasy. She’d always surrendered herself, as if he held some sway over her. As if he alone held the key to her pleasure. But he inflamed more than her flesh. His blazing wit intrigued her. His absolute command of himself and everything around him compelled her. Then last Thanksgiving at the charity dinner for the homeless, Jason had given her intimate glimpses behind his walls, into his compassion. How many billionaires would take the time to serve someone penniless?
As they’d talked, she’d been struck by how few people he seemed to have in his life. He rarely discussed friends and never mentioned family. His lonely solitude had tugged at her heart. Gia ached to help him, heal him because under that stern mien, he had a good heart. When he’d asked her to marry him, she couldn’t say anything but yes.
She cleared her throat. “I was surprised when Thorpe called and said you wanted to see me.”
For a precious moment, she held her breath. He was going to serve her with divorce papers; she just knew it. That would hurt like hell, but Gia understood. She’d been unable to be a wife to Jason, and he had every right to move on. Maybe she would see their split as a blessing someday…in the very distant future.
She’d been stupid to hope that her fairy tale would end happily ever after. They were from different worlds. What did a sophisticated mogul want with a blue-collar girl who liked pizza and beer and quiet evenings at home? Gia had always thought of Jason as her gorgeous prince. His demeanor might be a little sharp and definitely Dominant, but he had so much to give besides money.