Buttons and Shame (Buttons 4)

The silence that filled the car was hostile. Normally, Button and I didn’t speak much. It was something I treasured in our relationship. I wasn’t much of a talker, and it was nice to be with a woman who could simply exist with me and enjoy the quiet. She tolerated my foul moods and didn’t ask too many questions about my coldness. She accepted me exactly as I was—and I loved her for it.

But this was not one of those peaceful times.

Normally, she would tell me off for pissing her off. But right now, she was so livid she couldn’t speak. She wanted to throw her fists at my face and cause as much destruction as possible.

Not that I blamed her.

We arrived at the house, and the valet returned the car to the garage. It was nearly dinnertime, and I suspected Lars would have something delicious in the kitchen. But judging from Button’s mood, she probably wasn’t going to eat anything.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” Lars appeared out of the shadows, like always. “Where would you like dinner to be served.”

Button turned around and locked eyes with me. “His Grace will be eating in the dining room. I’ll take dinner in my bedroom—alone.” She stormed off and flipped her hair over her shoulder, shaking her hips because she was strutting so fast.

Would I be an ass if I said it turned me on?

“Of course, Mrs. Barsetti…” Lars turned to me and kept his judgments to himself.

Button stormed up the stairs and reached the third landing before she disappeared. She was stomping her feet so loudly I could still hear her footsteps until she entered the hallway that led to the bedroom and my office.

Lars cleared his throat then gave me a slight bow. “Is there anything I can do, sir?”

“Hold off on dinner. It’s gonna be a while…”

I stayed in my office for a few hours in the hope she would cool off. If I spoke to her now, she was just going to scream then slap me.

Which wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

I enjoyed my scotch and sat in front of the fire as I went through outgoing shipments. Just thinking about the deal with Tristan set me off. They said one beautiful woman was powerful enough to destroy an entire regime. First, it was Helen of Troy and countless others. Now, this new woman seemed to have infiltrated my brother’s reasoning.

Button had done the same to me.

I already knew exactly how the argument would go. Nothing would get resolved, and she would despise me. But I knew she wouldn’t leave me—no matter what. She’d accepted all my past transgressions. This was nothing compared to my former crimes.

After I waited long enough, I finally walked into the bedroom.

She was sitting on the couch with a book in her lap. A low burning candle sat on the coffee table, and the fire crackled in the hearth. When she heard the door open, she glanced up and met my look.

Hatred.

Her eyes flickered back down, and she kept reading.

I sat on the couch across from her and stared. When she was angry, she was even prettier than usual. Her eyes stood out better even when she didn’t wear makeup, and that fiery attitude made her face glow on its own. It reminded me of the first time I laid eyes on her. Like a wild bear, she was ferocious and deadly.

Apparently, that’s how I liked my women.

After fifteen minutes of silence, she snapped her book shut. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Here we go.

“How can you possibly be okay with this?” She threw the book down and made it thud against the cushion.

I kept a stoic expression but didn’t give a response.

“That woman is no different from me. She was taken against her will and subjected to torture. And you’re just going to look the other way?”

“Button—”

“Don’t Button me,” she hissed. “This is wrong, and you know it.”

“If you want me to speak, don’t cut me off.” I didn’t fight with my wife very often, and this was definitely the worst argument we ever had. There was no solution, so I wasn’t sure how we were going to resolve it.

“Maybe I don’t want you to speak. Maybe I just want you to do the right thing.”

I rested my hands together in front of my lap and felt the heat from the fireplace. The coffee table was in between us, and I didn’t like the strategic distance she’d created. I’d rather be slapped by her than separated. “What am I supposed to do? This is Cane’s deal, not mine. We both know I have no control over what that man does.”

“Bullshit.”

“Button, you know I don’t agree with any of it. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Yes, you can. We take her from Cane and get her back home.”