Broken (Manhattan Ruthless Book 1)
Chapter 19

Nathan is fastening his cufflinks when I walk into the kitchen.

I blink at him. “Are you working today? It’s Sunday.” And also the day after our wedding.

He nods. “I got a call from the police station. A new case.”

“So, you’re going to get him out?” I assume it’s a guy, anyway.

He winks at me. “Wouldn’t be a very good lawyer if I didn’t.”

I shift from one foot to the other, feeling incredibly awkward. Snapshots of last night flicker through my head. Me with my arms around his neck, asking him to … My cheeks flush with heat. “What did he do?”

“Something that got him arrested,” he says cryptically, before pulling on his suit jacket.

I rub my throbbing temples, and he shoots me a sympathetic look. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and Tylenol in the cupboard above it.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I got so drunk.”

He huffs a laugh. “There’s no need to apologize. My brothers are pretty forceful with the Scotch.”

“Yeah.” The memory alone is enough to make my esophagus burn, and I rub at my raw throat. “What time will you be back?”

He shrugs. “Hard to say. Depends on what’s waiting for me when I get to the station.”

Regret punches me in the gut. Is this what my life is going to be like now? Me alone in this giant penthouse while he works? I guess I should have known that it would be. It’s not like we’re a real couple. He wouldn’t even have sex with me on our wedding night.

“Why don’t you hang out with your sister?” he suggests.

“Her flight was at eight. She has to get back to Boston this afternoon.”

He sucks on his top lip. “Hopefully, I won’t be too long and we can grab an early dinner.”

My enthusiastic nod comes embarrassingly fast, and I want to kick myself for being so eager.

But if he notices my enthusiasm, he doesn’t pass comment or react at all. With a single nod in my direction, he’s gone.

See ya later, Ice.

I glance at the clock again, like it will somehow be earlier than when I checked a few minutes ago and not almost 9:00 p.m. Nathan still isn’t home, and maybe if it weren’t so late, I wouldn’t feel like a complete fool for sitting around this penthouse all day like a good little wife, waiting for him to take me to dinner.

The headache I’ve been suffering from off and on all day makes a reappearance. Damn Nathan. He could have at least called or sent a text. Although I guess it’s my own fault. He’s been perfectly clear from day one what this is between us. And just because he can be charming and sexy when he wants to be, that doesn’t change our arrangement.

I scroll through channels on the TV until I replace a cheesy eighties movie. Exactly the kind of movie Tyler and I love to watch. I lie on the sofa, head snuggled into the cushions, and try to forget about Nathan and what a huge mistake I might have made.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Nathan’s deep, soothing voice rouses me from sleep, and I wake to replace him standing over me.

“What time is it?” I rub my eyes and sit up.

“A little before midnight.”

I blink at him. “So where the hell have you been?”

His handsome face furrows in a scowl. “Working.”

I scoff. “Until midnight?”

“Yes, Mel. I’m sorry if my working hours don’t fit your schedule.”

I jump to my feet and tilt my chin up. “And I’m sorry that you’d rather spend your time with some criminal than take your wife to dinner the day after our wedding,” I yell.

His entire expression darkens. “Are you fucking kidding me? You knew what my job was about. And this”—he waves a hand between us—“doesn’t come before that. I’ve had a fucker of a day, and I don’t need to come home to you bitching at me about not being here.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “I’ll remember my place in the future, sir.”

I spin on my heel to walk away, but he grabs my wrist and spins me back to face him, bringing my body flush against his. His body heat penetrates the thin fabric of my dress, and my heart races.

He snarls. “Don’t with the smart fucking mouth, Mel. Not tonight.”

We glare at each other, both our chests heaving. He closes his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he inhales a breath.

With him no longer staring at me, the connection breaks, and I wrench my arm from his grip. “Don’t worry. You won’t hear from my smart mouth again.”

I walk away, and this time he doesn’t grab me back, but he calls after me. “Mel!”

Without turning around, I snap, “I’m going to bed.”