Strangers in Death (In Death 26) - Page 110

So now he sat there, ignoring her, working with his PPC again. Probably prying into her bank account to see what an idiot she was in his gazillionaire opinion. Snapping and slapping at her because she’d run a little short between paydays.

So the fuck what?

She picked at it, gnawed at it, brooded over it the rest of the way. When she stopped in front of the house, when they got out of opposite sides of the car, she stood with the car between them. “Look—”

“No, you’re going to need to look, Eve. We’ll go inside so that you do.”

Since he strode away, she had little choice but to follow. Don’t need this now, she thought. Don’t need some marital knot to unravel when I’ve got work. She always had work, a little voice reminded her, and did nothing but make her feel guilty.

When he stepped inside, Roarke simply held up a finger. Eve watched, with surprise and envy, as Summerset slipped back out of the foyer without a word. With the path effortlessly cleared, she trudged up the steps after Roarke.

She expected him to head to one of their offices or their bedroom. Instead he walked into one of the quiet and beautiful sitting rooms. A banquet of blooming plants charmed a trio of windows. A pair of curved settees in muted stripes faced each other across a slim, glossy table. After shrugging out of his coat, Roarke tossed it over one of the pretty fabric chairs.

“I’ll have a drink with this.”

It didn’t surprise her to see the wine fridge when he crossed over, opened a panel. When he’d drawn the cork, he took two glasses from another panel, poured.

“Why don’t you sit?”

“I feel like I’m about to get dressed down by an annoyed parent because I blew my spending money on candy. I don’t like it, Roarke.”

“I’m not your father, and I don’t give a damn what you spend your money on. There, better?”

“No.”

“Well then, that’s a pity. Myself, I’m going to sit down, drink this wine, and continue to resist the urge to rap your head against the handiest solid surface.”

When he sat, when he sipped, she continued to stand. “You can’t be this mad because I ran short before payday.”

“You’d be wrong about that.”

She’d have preferred the heat, a good fiery blast of it. And she knew he understood that, knew it, as he gave her rigid ice. “Jesus, what’s the big deal? I had some unforeseens. I had to flip a couple to a weasel last week, and I don’t know, other stuff. There was that kid, and—”

“I’ve just said I don’t care how you spend your money. I care that you’d rather walk around without any in your pocket than ask me for a bit of cash. Or get it for yourself as you know the combination of the damn safes around here.”

“I’m not going into one of your safes for—”

“And there it is.” He set the wineglass down in a gesture so careful, so deliberate, she understood he’d barely resisted heaving it. “You won’t go into my safes. And you can’t see how insulting that is to me? To us?”

To give herself a moment, she

took off her coat, tossed it over with his. Then she sat, picked up the wine. Studied it. “You think it should be easy, that because we’re married it should be smooth for me to hit you up—”

“There it is again. How the hell is it hitting me up?”

“Christ.” Despite the fact that her head throbbed, she took a good slug of wine. “Because that’s how it would feel. Do you know how long it’s taken me to get used to living here—well, almost used to it—to feel, really, feel that it is my home? Not yours, not even ours, those were easier. But mine? Your money came down in the minus column for me. I fell for you in spite of it. If that makes me an idiot, too damn bad.”

“I came from nothing, and built this. I’ve pride in that, and so I understand yours. Your pride. I also know the money means little to nothing to you. So why then, can’t you take a bit of what means so little rather than running on empty when it’s so ridiculously unnecessary?”

Not so pissed now, she noted with some relief. Baffled, maybe even a little hurt, but no longer furious. “I didn’t think about it. I didn’t notice I was so light until I pulled out the ten. I’ve had other things on my mind besides…And all that’s true, but all that’s an evasion.”

She drank again to ease the tightness in her throat. “I can’t. I’m sorry, really, that it hurts or upsets you. I can’t hold out my hand to you, not for money. I just can’t. So it’s going to have to piss you off or insult you or whatever it does. I just can’t do it, Roarke.”

He picked up his glass again, said nothing for several moments as he sat, as he sipped. “You could if we were on more even ground, as you see it?”

“No. It’s not how much, it’s at all.”

He searched her face. “That’s hardheaded, short-sighted, and tight-assed. But, all right then.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
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