Exposed (Ethan Frost 3)

“You don’t actually think I’m going to agree to that, do you? In case you’ve forgotten, this is America. We’ve got freedom of the press. And there’s no way I’m going to shoot myself in the foot just because you say so—”

“Oh, yes, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Because if you don’t, you’re going to end up bleeding out from a hell of a lot more than a foot wound. The LA Times won’t get shit from Frost Industries. No comments on any newsworthy things we might do, no interviews, no press passes to any event you might want to cover, nothing. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of different places, Jake. I’ll have you shut out completely.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You’d end up crippling yourself as badly as—”

“You have no idea what I’ll do to keep my wife safe. Keep pushing me and you’ll find out.”

I hang up while he’s still wheezing in shock, then text It’s handled to Stu. I’m about to text him further instructions about the moratorium I want put on stories about Chloe—and how to handle it when the press pushes back—when I hear the bathroom door crack open behind me.

I whirl around to see Chloe standing there in a purple sundress, looking pale and uncertain and so beautiful that it pretty much breaks my heart. I start to apologize, but she cuts me off with a shake of her head.

“Please don’t tell me you’re sorry when we both know you’re anything but.” She nods at the phone in my hand. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. I would have given them an interview in exchange for them ignoring my past.”

“I know you would have. And in the end, we probably will. But I needed the point made that you’re off-limits—and that anyone who doesn’t take that seriously does so at their own peril.”

The smile she gives me is a little sad, but her shoulders relax enough that I can take my first real breath since she slammed the door between us when she was getting sick. Then she walks into my arms, buries her face in the crook of my neck and I relax, too. Because no matter how mad she still is at me, she’s here, in my arms. Pressing kisses to the bare skin of my shoulders and chest.

“You don’t have to protect me,” she tells me after a minute.

“That’s another thing we’re just going to have to disagree on, then.”

She pulls back and I can tell from her narrowed eyes that that was the wrong thing to say. And any other time, on any other subject, I’d probably be tripping over myself to backtrack. But not now, not on this. I’m in the middle of making sure every newspaper in the country—in the world—knows that I’ll annihilate them if they cross me on this. It’s time for Chloe to get on board, too.

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I do know. You’ve done an amazing job of doing just that these last few years.”

“Then why—”

“Because you’re in a different playground now, one where you don’t yet know the rules. Until you do, I’ll protect you.”

She tilts her head to the side, her beautiful green eyes searching mine as she tries to figure out just where in the sand I’ve drawn the line. The fact that it’s in a very different place than where she wants it to be doesn’t keep me from meeting her eyes. Or from opening myself up to her. It only seems fair, after all, when I’m demanding so much—demanding everything—from her.

“And once I do learn the rules?” she asks.

“Then I’ll still protect you. Because you’re my wife and I love you and your safety and well-being mean more to me than anything else in this world.”

She sighs, then rolls her eyes in disgust. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you say shit like that?”

“You’re not. That’s the whole point.”

Sensing that the crisis is over—or that I’ve at least managed to avert it for now—I pull her into my arms and kiss her like I’ve been dying to from the moment I woke up this morning. The fact that she lets me convinces me that we’re going to make it just fine through our first fight as a married couple.

“I don’t want you to go meet that man today,” she says after finally pulling her lips from mine.

“I have to.”

“No, you really don’t.”

I gather her hands in mine, all the while pressing soft kisses to her jaw. “Yes, I really do. Valducci owns Brandon. He holds his gambling debts, he contributes to his campaign, he makes his messes go away. If I cut that relationship off at the knees, it weakens Brandon. Makes him more vulnerable for when I—” I break off, searching for the words to explain what I want to do to the miserable excuse for a human being that is my little brot

her.

“Go in for the kill?” Chloe suggests, voice droll and eyebrow raised.

I know she’s being sarcastic, trying to point out the error in my thinking, but the truth is, she isn’t wrong. I am planning on going in for the kill with Brandon, so thoroughly and so bloodily that he’ll never make the same mistake again.

“For when I shut him down.” I don’t lie to her, but I temper the truth a little. For both of our sakes.