More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

“Sorry I’m late. If you’ll all sit down, let’s get started. We need to make some financial decisions to review each of your departments’ funding needs. Let’s start with Tech. Mister”—I glance at the org chart I grabbed from my briefcase—“Barnes. Let’s review your organization’s top five initiatives this year and their associated costs.”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not share that information with the competition.”

Is he serious? “Come Thursday, I’ll be your boss.”

“It’s not Thursday yet.”

I don’t have to ask who’s behind this; I know. I turn to Sloan. “What the hell is happening?”

“It’s called an insurrection.” She smiles tightly.

The other newly minted executives all nod and agree.

My blood boils. “Is that right…wife?”

Everyone in the room gasps, clearly shocked by this news—not surprising since she’s not wearing her wedding ring anymore—but she merely narrows her eyes at me. “Our ridiculous marriage is irrelevant.”

“The hell it is.” There’s no way I’m going to have this out with Sloan in front of everyone. “This meeting is adjourned. We’ll reschedule tomorrow. Everyone leave the room.” The executives gather their things and begin to file out of the door, grumbling amongst themselves. Before Sloan can join them, I grab her arm. “Everyone except you.”

Barnes is last to file through the door. He glances back at Sloan like he’s not sure he should leave her alone with me. With a raised brow and a dismissive gesture, I urge him out.

The second the door shuts behind him, I march across the room and lock it, then lower the shades on either side.

Now we’re alone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Sloan shrugs. “This is just business, and I’ve decided that I’m not your corporate whore.”

“What? I never called you that. And I never treated you like that.”

“Is that supposed to make you marrying me under false pretenses okay?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I never lied to you.”

“Not strictly, no. You just conveniently neglected to tell me a few things. But I got my facts now, so I have everything I need. That doesn’t include you.”

I have no idea what she thinks she knows, but she’s not leaving this room until I set her straight. “That’s not what you said last night when your pussy was gripping my cock and your nails were digging into my back while you screamed for me as you came.”

She flushes, the fire in her eyes flaring hotter. “That was before you manipulated me.”

“Manipulated? Why would you think that? I love you. I—”

“Save your speech for someone naive enough to believe it. I might not be the most experienced woman, but I can still smell bullshit a mile away.” Sloan tightens her grip on her notebook. “And now I have another meeting—one far more productive to Reservoir’s future.”

She storms toward the door. I give chase. I’m not letting her leave before we’ve hashed this out.

By the time she’s unlocked the door and reached for the handle, I’m on her, holding it shut with one hand and locking it again with the other. I sling my arm around her waist and press myself against her, eyes closed, willing her to listen. “Don’t do this, baby. Tell me what’s wrong. Why do you think I manipulated you?”

She elbows me in the gut. When I release her with a grunt, she takes the opportunity to wrench the door open. “So you can twist me up again? No. You’re smooth; I’ll give you that. You told me everything I wanted to hear on our wedding day. You thought with a few well-placed lies that you could keep me docile and stop fighting Stratus’s takeover. But you’re sadly mistaken. One thing I had wrong? Evan isn’t actually Satan. Now that I’ve met him, he seems like a semi-decent guy. Cutthroat in business, but I respect that. He knows when something crosses the line into unethical territory. You, apparently, never got that memo. Now fuck off.”

Sloan gives me a shove and heads out the door. By the time I grab my things off the table and chase after her, she’s gone.

At the elevator, I curse and stab the button impatiently, fending off hostile stares from the Accounts Payable folks. Finally, the car arrives, and I step in, heading to the ground floor to begin a thorough search of the building. But my wife has seemingly disappeared. She’s not in her office or in my temporary digs. She isn’t anywhere in the executive wing. She’s not with the Finance team. Hell, I’m wondering if she left the building.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s a text from Evan.

Call me. We have problems.