Too Late For Regret: His Telepathic Wife

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t-twenty minutes to hand in my access card and clear my desk while the floor was still em

g of purple finger-marks around my right wrist. Without meaning to, I thought of college-of the time I was hurrying to class and skin

time. Now the alcohol bit into the broken skin and pulled me back out of t

this space had n

orner-she had left it behind, she said, while staying late to help Easton with the resort expansion file. All summer long, Easton had brought her back

her perfume in the trash. Claim what's yours

watched him give the tenderness he had never once given me in ten years to an assistant who had been on the payroll eight months.

l suitcases down from the top

d bought with my own salary from the corporate PR department: a few wool trousers, a few plain turtlenecks, cotton shirts, and a couple of comfortable boots. Fr

ars I had lived in that apartment

n the second suitcase, the lo

, bright and a little breathless-followed b

door was t

r like a frayed rope. Arianna came in behind him with his coat over her arm, my diamond bracelet still

burned off in an instant, replaced by so

overs? Where is she going? She can't leave this roo

. He pushed himself off the doorframe and lurched three steps toward me. "Still playing the run

is. After you left, Mr. McGowen drank most of a bottle of Macallan. He was worri

most theatrical innocence. The diamond bracelet on he

st Easton's shoulder at the blank wall, my face empty. "Th

ut of Easton and rang up in

ink you can just walk out of the McGowen house? Blair, you're thirty-one! You've got no real assets, no standing without my circle,

ild" spread through the co

yes, and the corner of her mouth

g nausea turned o

lla when a panic attack hit him, hard. The darkness of the tree line had dragged up the memory of being abducted as a

out of the lake with my bare hands, then lay on top of him and gave hi

ved with mil

he infection had ravaged my reproductive system. When I finally woke, the doctor told me th

laparoscopic surgeries, and my belly was covered in small round scars; my veins ran purple f

ifice and used it as a blade

voice did not shake, but my knuckles went white around the handle of the suitcase. "You kn

ugh he had been slappe

elf every single day. I'm the monster. I took your child. Don't

an't blame him for one accident for the rest of his life. He's carried the guilt of that night for

e guilt that had torn across his face vanished,

ery chance you get to make me feel guilty! I'm sick of being held hostage by your so-called s

he handle of my packed suitc

ud, and the sweaters, trousers, and underwear I had folded so carefully scattered across t

you leaves this

small, dark velvet box rolled out from under a

He bent down a

lay an antique sapphire pendant in an emerald cut, ringed with a

ath st

ing forward, my voice urgent.

p. The sapphire burned under the chand

smile spread slowl

, his voice heavy with contempt. "I bought it back at Sotheby's three years ago for four millio