The Wrong Wife by Maya Alden

Chapter 18

Declan

"What the fuck, Mateo?" I approached him as he sat on a bar stool and picked up a red wine.

"I was enjoying a glass of wine with your wife while you were eye-fucking your ex-fiancée."

"Or were you eye-fucking my wife?" I walked into the kitchen and pulled out an empty glass of Burgundy. I poured some wine for myself and sat down next to him.

"I like her, Dec," he mused. "She's a nice person getting fucking railroaded by everyone in her life. Her parents, her sister, and now you."

"Why the fuck are you so interested? You just met her, for god's sake." I hated that he was right and cared more about my wife than I did.

"I don't know. Maybe because she's a social worker and I have a soft spot for them. Maybe because what you're doing to her is unfair and it gets my back up."

"I'm doing nothing to her."

"You spent the evening ignoring her, Dec. Everyone could see that. Viv enjoyed that very much."

I drank my wine broodily but didn't say anything. Mateo was right; Viv had enjoyed how the evening had turned out.

"You know she's always had a crush on you, don't you?" Viv said as we sat alone at the bar after dinner; her father and my mother had left us to "reconcile." Subtle as a chainsaw!

"Did she?" I didn't know that.

"Sure," she grinned. "When we started dating, it was a thing. My father and I joked about it."

Which meant they made fun of Esme. Why did they dislike her so much?

"She's nice, Viv," I felt compelled to say. "She's been pleasant and there’s no drama."

"That's because she's hoping she can get you. Tonight, you made it clear to her that whatever may have happened between us, and I get it, I'm at fault; she can't come between us." Viv held my hand.

Since she'd told me about her marriage, I’d been waiting for her to regret it and return to me. And here she was, telling me she was filing for an annulment. I should’ve danced with joy, but I was conflicted for many reasons, one of them being that Esme was legally my fucking wife.

"She's not trying to come between us, Viv. She's trying to make the best of a bad situation."

"My little sister is good at that," Viv said scornfully. "Always trying to make the best of everything. I know you think she's sweet; but what she is, is dumb. How on earth she thought she'd be able to make you find her interesting is beyond me."

But Esme never thought that. She'd told me that she knew how I looked and how she looked, and there was no way we'd be a match—no way I’d see her. She had already decided that I'd never be hers. And, yet, in the car, she'd been passionate and, without knowing it, luscious as fuck. When she'd come, her face had been flushed, and I'd wanted to desperately part her legs and taste her, feel her clit throb against my tongue.

I shook my head to ward off those memories. No, way. Viv was here. She was being petty and jealous, but she was here, on her knees, begging me to take her back.

And I would.

Mateo finished his drink and left without saying goodnight or goodbye. My friend was royally pissed with me. He was the better person as he’d always been. He didn't play games. I used to think he was naïve, but I knew now that being honest cost him nothing—but deceiving someone or not being true to himself was too expensive for Mateo. And it was this authenticity that drew me to him.

I finished my wine, left the empty glass on the counter, and walked to Esme's bedroom. I opened the door immediately after knocking and not waiting for a response. She was in a pair of white pajama shorts and a white tank top. I could see her nipples strain against the tank top.

She was standing by her bed, looking at her right arm.

I saw what she was looking at and I felt everything tighten within me. There were finger marks patterned one over another. There were bruises, and the skin was broken in several places where Julien's nails had dug in.

She froze when she saw me and pulled a wrap on the bed to cover her arms.

"What the fuck is this?" I pulled the wrap away and examined her arm. "What the fuck, Esme?"

"It's nothing. I'm clumsy and bang into things. Happens all the time."

My eyes bore into hers. "I thought you didn't lie."

She swallowed. "It's not… it's not what you think. I bruise easily."

"Has your father done this to you before?" I demanded. Her arm was mottled in purple, green, and yellow. The broken skin was where nails had dug in. How hard had Julien grabbed her?

"No. He just gripped me too hard without knowing the impact."

Yeah, right. I'd seen Julien's face when he'd talked to her. He had meant to do this.

"Be honest with me, Esme."

She pulled away. "I'm being honest with you. Daddy didn't mean to hurt me. I'm just sensitive, is all. Declan, I'm drained. Would it be okay to talk tomorrow? I need to get some sleep."

Obviously, she needed to hit the hay, but we needed to discuss what we did earlier in the evening. "Esme, I want to apologize for what happened in the car?"

Her back straightened. "We both were equally responsible for that."

"No. You're inexperienced, almost a virgin, and I'm not. I carried a higher responsibility. I'm sorry. Please know it'll never happen again."

Her tears shimmered for an instant, and then her eyes went clear. She knew how to control her emotions, and I felt pride surge. Not everyone could get a hold of themselves in this way; I had learned, but it had taken years. I could never have pulled it off when I was twenty-three.

"Then I'm sorry too." Esme picked up the wrap I had discarded onto the bed and wrapped it around her arms. "I should've resisted, which I didn't. I promise it'll never happen again."

Never happen again! Is that what I wanted?

"You think you can control yourself around me?" I wanted to push her buttons. Mateo had just reamed me a new one for mistreating her, and here I was doing it again.

"Yes." Her voice was a whisper, and her gaze fell to the floor. "I have to."

I lifted her chin to look at me. "What do you mean you have to?"

"You're hers." She smiled weakly. "You're not mine to keep. If I'm not careful, I'll get hurt. I'd much rather not do that."

"How would you get hurt?" I coaxed. I wanted to kiss her again. Those lips she'd been licking and biting were ripe and pouty as if waiting to be claimed.

"I… I'm not experienced as you said, and I may mistake sex for an emotional relationship which would—"

"You know what we did in the car was just some fun and nothing more." I cut in harshly and dropped her chin with a jerk. She was right. I didn't need her to become some lovesick puppy. That had happened a few times before, and usually, I could ignore those women and block them from my life; I wouldn't be able to do that with the woman living in my home, wearing my wedding ring.

"I do know." Her eyes were clear as if she'd always thought that's all it was, some fun.

Since I wanted her to feel that way, I wasn't sure why I felt something die inside me for her to think that making her come and having her bring me to a climax was some bodily function because, at the moment when her hand was stroking me, pulling my come out, I hadn't felt detached from her. Her hand was Esme's—not some random woman helping me scratch an itch.

And she was right; I was not hers to keep.