He didn’t like this.
He dialed his PI, Marcus, for answers.
“Who is this fucker with my wife?” Wolfe asked.
“He’s a single dad. His name’s Ryan. He’s a good guy. Their sons play together.”
“Benjamin is my son.”
“I only know the facts, Wolfe.”
“I want a detailed file on Ryan by the end of the day.”
“For a husband who doesn’t care, you certainly don’t show it.”
“Just do it,” he said, slamming his phone down. Dropping the photographs to his desk, he stood up, angry. With his hands on his hips he stared down at the city.
He was the Wolfe Montgomery. Never in his life had he ever been jealous, and yet, looking at those fucking pictures, he was ready to hurt someone or something. Rachel wouldn’t even talk to him, and there she was, hanging out with a single dad who already had a kid.
She’d always sent her sisters, father, or lawyer to deal with him. Their current agreement, which wasn’t legally binding but was set between the two of them, meant he couldn’t force her to live with him or do other wifely things.
He’d not touched her since their wedding night.
That night he shouldn’t have left his bed to go and talk to Mike, his friend and lawyer who helped him a lot over the years.
Now as he glanced around his office, he had to wonder if it was all worth it.
“Of course it is.”
Only when he got the weekly pictures back did he begin to doubt what he’d done the past five years.
How he’d lived his life.
There had been speculation in the newspaper, but with his power and ability to steer the headlines, he’d been able to avoid any exposé on his marriage. Her family also worked to make sure it appeared they were still together, and he’d not seen her since that night.
Not smelled her lemony scent, or even got the chance to hold her.
He got impersonal photographs, and now he got to see her smiling with a man who wasn’t him.
He gathered up the pictures and placed them in the file, slamming his palm flat against the folder. This weekend was his with Benjamin. Would it really be bad for him to go and pick his son up from his mother’s? He knew where she lived.
Every little detail of her life had been laid out for him.
She’d escaped the city, and made a home for herself in a small town where she worked at a haberdashery. She also created gowns for weddings and social events, but she never took any of the credit for it either.
Rachel had cut herself off completely. He placed money in their joint bank account, but the funds had gathered, and she’d never taken anything from him.
A knock sounded at the door, and he called for them to enter. There was no stray photograph, and he put the file in his desk.
“Come in,” he said.
Denise, his assistant, opened the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a young woman out here. She would like a meeting but doesn’t have an appointment.”
“Then tell her to make one.”
“Sir, she claims to be your wife.”
Wolfe paused. “Rachel?”
He stared at the door as Denise stepped aside, and there was his wife. The very woman he’d been angry with moments ago.
Five years didn’t seem like a long time, but staring at the woman he’d married, she was … different.
She was still beautiful.
Her long blonde hair, all natural, fell down around her in waves. It was longer than he remembered, coming to below her tits, settling around her waist. She wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He’d noticed in her pictures she often wore them. When she was out with him, she’d gone with contacts.
The jacket she wore hid the curves he knew were hidden beneath. Large tits, full hips, and thighs that were designed to be wrapped around a man as he fucked her harder.
“I asked you to wait outside, Miss,” Denise said.
His new assistant was in her fifties and only been working for him for a year.
“It’s all right, Denise. This is my wife, and Rachel is free to see me any time she wants.”
****
This should have been easy for her. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Rachel stepped into the office she hadn’t seen for five years.
“I’m so sorry,” Denise said.
“It’s okay. No one really knows who I am.”
“Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water?”
“Nothing, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Denise, hold all my calls,” Wolfe said.
“Will do.”
The door closed, and Rachel felt her heart racing.
This moment she’d been putting off for a couple of months. She held onto the strap of her bag, hoping she had the strength to do this. She’d talked to Mary weeks ago about it, and they both agreed the best way for her to get what she wanted was to confront Wolfe and to finally end things between them.