Chapter 57

I try my best to control my temper as I park the bespoke car Xavier gave me when we got married right in front of his office building, not bothering to park it in his garage. Two armored vehicles accompany me, courtesy of my mother-in-law, who has become overly concerned about me and will no longer let me go anywhere without my dedicated security team driving in front and behind me, every single person on it vetted and appointed personally by my father-in-law.

Becky, my new personal bodyguard, opens the door for me, and I step out of my car, my stilettos clicking against the pavement as I walk into Xavier’s office building, heads turning as I make my way through the lobby, my bodyguard in tow.

Sam jumps out of his seat when the elevator doors open on the top floor, nerves written all over his face. “Ms. Windsor,” he says, the way he usually does. “Mr. Kingston is currently in a meeting. I do apologize.” The first few times he told me that, I’d left, not wanting to bother Xavier and unable to wait around for long due to my own work schedule. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he was lying to my face.

I pause in front of him and raise a brow. “Would you like to try that again?” I ask, smiling without an ounce of amusement. “I suggest you start by addressing me by the right name. It’s Mrs. Kingston to you.”

His eyes widen. “Mrs. Kingston, plea⁠—”

I tap his arm and smile, cutting him off. “That’s better. Good job, Sam. Now, you will get out of my way. The question is, are you going to do it voluntarily, or will you require Becky’s assistance?”

He looks past me, at my bodyguard, and steps aside, his head lowered. I glance over my shoulder, silently communicating to Becky that I want her to guard the door, and she nods sharply.

My hair sways as I turn around and walk into my husband’s office, finding him seated behind his desk, decidedly not in a meeting. “Hello, Xavier,” I say in a sugary sweet voice, taking in his guarded expression as I slam his door closed and walk up to him. He turns his chair toward me when I walk around his desk, and I place my shoe between his thighs, at the edge of his seat. “Remember me?” I ask, sliding my foot forward, right up to his crotch. “I’m your wife — Sierra Kingston.”

He leans back in his seat, unfazed. “What exactly are you doing, Kitten?” he asks, his brows raised.

“Oh, so you do remember who I am? Funny. I was certain you must’ve had a concussion I didn’t know about, a lapse in memory. How else do you intend to explain why you’ve been forgetting to come home to me for nearly two weeks now?”

I have it on good authority that he’s been staying at a highly secure place owned by Enzo, which I’m not authorized to enter. We both know he couldn’t have kept me away at any property owned by the Kingstons, and it’s clear he’s intentionally avoiding me. His actions hurt far more than I’m letting on, and I just don’t understand why he’s distancing himself from me to this extent.

Xavier’s eyes flash the way they used to, back when he used to love my crazy behavior and returned it with a level of madness I always enjoyed, but then that light dims, and he looks away. “I’m just busy with work,” he says, seemingly not caring that it doesn’t even remotely sound like a good excuse.

He hasn’t been himself since I was captured, and for the first three weeks, he woke up screaming my name nearly every night, his nightmares refusing to loosen their hold over him until I pulled him into my arms, reassuring him I was fine. In hindsight, that was the part that was manageable. What came after it was far, far worse.

As the weeks passed, he became unable to look me in the eye, and unless I touched him first, he wouldn’t show me any of the affection I’d gotten used to. He stopped meeting me halfway when I came home, seemingly no longer excited to see me, like he used to be, and he stopped kissing me good night. There were no text messages anymore, no phone calls, no holding hands, until eventually, he just stopped coming home. I’ve been losing him slowly, over the course of two months, and there isn’t a single thing I’ve been able to do about it. No amount of talking to him about it has helped, and I don’t know what to do anymore. The more time passes, the more this situation infuriates me.

“Fine,” I tell him. “Let’s sell the company. If you’re so busy that it’s keeping you from me, it’s not worth having. Sell it.”

His expression cracks just a smidge, something akin to amusement flickering through his eyes for a brief moment, and my heart skips a beat. If there’s anything I excel at, it’s getting a reaction out of him, and I need it now more than ever before.

I sigh when my husband just doesn’t give me a response. Instead, he merely stares at me, almost like he’s waiting to see how long it’ll take to wear me down and chase me away, without him even having to say a thing.

Each time I try to talk to him, he just shuts down, leaving me feeling like I’m talking to a wall. It’s infuriating, and I have no idea how to get through to him. I know him, and I know he loves me more than anything. Xavier spent years acquiring companies I wanted, naming them so an acronym of them spelled my name by the time he gifted them to me. Those are not the actions of a man that’s anything but deeply committed, and I’m trying my best to remember that.

“Don’t want to sell?” I ask, not expecting a response. He’s refusing to play my games, but I know he can’t resist forever. I have years of experience taunting him. I excel at it more than I do my actual job. “That’s okay. I’ll just help you out with your workload.”

I throw him a sweet smile as I seat myself on the edge of his desk and face him, placing my hands behind me as I lean back, knowing full well that he should be able to see the contours of my nipples as the fabric of my dress stretches over my breasts. I dressed up for him today, making sure not to wear any underwear under the tight, short black dress I’m wearing. “Just tell me what I can help you with, Xave, and I’ll do it. I can be very helpful if you ask nicely.”

Xavier’s eyes zero in on my chest, and I watch as he clenches his jaws before looking out the window instead. The bitter sting of rejection hits me hard, and I look down, my confidence wavering for a split second. I’ve never tried to seduce a man before, and it’s clear I’m failing at it. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m desperate for his attention and unwilling to give up, even if it means making a fool of myself. Nothing else has worked so far.

I bite down on my lip and decide to change tactics as I slip off his desk and turn my back to him, bending over his desk to reach for his mouse. My movements make my dress ride up, and my heart begins to hammer in my chest at the thought of exposing myself. I’ve put myself at an angle where my ass is pretty much right in his face, and if I bend over even a little more, he’ll realize that I’m not wearing a single thing under this dress.

“What are you working on that’s keeping you so busy?” I ask, my voice trembling as I click through his documents without actually registering anything I’m seeing. I’m too nervous, too far out of my depth, and the longer he stays silent, the more I lose the confidence I barged in with. I really thought my actions today would make him snap out of his daze, but all I’m accomplishing is humiliating myself.

I draw a shaky breath, beginning to accept that I’m going to have to walk out of here with my pride in tatters. When we first got married he wouldn’t let me in either, but at least then, he let his body do the talking. I thought that if I tried to seduce him, maybe I could have at least that part of him back, but I was wrong. I overestimated my own appeal.

I begin to straighten, defeat washing over me, when his voice fills the air between us. “The Stanley project,” he growls, placing his hand on my lower back as he pushes me back down. I lean forward on my elbows, my heart pounding wildly as he grabs my thigh with his free hand, his thumb caressing the curve of my ass.

I gasp when he forces my legs apart with his feet, making my dress ride up further. His sharp intake of breath makes a thrill run down my spine, and I arch my spine when he grabs my ass, his thumbs so close to where I want them that I can’t help but squirm. I whimper when I feel his hot breath on my skin, and he chuckles before kissing my pussy softly before dragging his tongue down it.

I moan his name when he uses the tip of his tongue to circle my clit, using every single thing he’s learned about my body to get me close. “Please,” I beg. “I need you, Xavier.” I think we both know it isn’t just his body I’m talking about, and I’ve never felt more vulnerable. He responds to my words by pushing two fingers into me and curling them as he laps at me harder, his movements rougher. My moans fill his office as I begin to become lightheaded, and he groans when I come, my legs shaking and my forehead pressed to his hard wooden desk.

I’m still panting and trying to catch my breath when he pulls my dress back down. “You got what you wanted,” he says, his voice rough, devoid of the passion I’d expected. “So leave, Sierra. I’ve got work to do.”

My heart twists painfully as I push off his desk, taking a moment to lick my wounds before I straighten and turn to face him. “So have you,” I tell him, my voice breaking. “You wanted to hurt me, and you have. You didn’t have to go this far, Xavier. Just look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me anymore.”

He doesn’t refute my words, and I draw a shaky breath, a lone tear running down my cheek. I’m learning the hard way that his silence cuts deeper than anything he could say to me, and God, it hurts. “I’ll be at home, waiting,” I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper as I step away from him. “I’ll wait a million years and a day, Xavier, if that’s what it takes.” I look over my shoulder when I reach his door, only to find him staring out the window, like I’m not even worth looking at. “I’ll wait, because I still want you, and I still love you. Not even the way you’re treating me right now will change that.”