WORTHY, Part 2

WORTHY

Worthy Series, Book
2 of 3

L E X I E    R A Y

Copyright © 2014

Published by: Rascal Hearts

All Rights Reserved
. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

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Cover Art: Rosy England Fisher

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Going back to my wedding alone wasn’t the hardest thing I’d ever done. My life had been too full of tragedy for something as simple as that.

But it was still difficult to put on a brave face and smile and pretend that all this was about me. The venue was so gorgeous, but I only knew a handful of people. The person who mattered most to me in the world was flying across the Atlantic by now, hurtling toward an attempt to preserve his position in his family’s company.

I had to answer good-intentioned queries about Jonathan time and time again, trying to be as brief and ambiguous as possible. I didn’t want to reveal that my husband had to jet off to try to save his job. Nobody knew that except him, his father, and me.

Collier held out a glass of champagne to me as soon as I got back, smiling and kissing me on both of my cheeks.

“He’ll pull this off,” he assured me. “You’ll see.”

“I know he will,” I said. “Your son’s an amazing man.”

“Only because you’re his wife,” Collier said, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he swept off to talk to another guest.

Jane and Brock made for poor comfort, both of them apparently trying to outdrink the other. I honestly couldn’t tell who was winning. They were both shit-faced.

“My poor new sister,” Jane crooned, patting my head and nearly missing. She had been drunk even before Jonathan and I had said our vows, but was somehow still upright. “Left alone on her wedding.”

“Nobody deserves that,” Brock chimed in, implying that for whatever reasons, I might very well be the exception to the rule. “Too bad you won’t be getting a wedding night. Did Jonathan tell you he’d authorized me to be his stand-in? Fuck-in? What would you call that? Whatever it is, I’m here for you, Michelle. My dick and I are here — hard — for you.”

Jane shrieked with laughter, and I shook my head. Brock was such an idiot. It warmed my heart to discover that he got even raunchier the as he got more drunk. It was hard to tell that he was harmless. He looked like he wanted to cause lots of harm, and I wondered which female guest would let him have at it. If I had been in the mood for bets, I would’ve put my money on Jane.

“I don’t think you would call it anything,” I said. “For your information, Jonathan and I have already had our wedding night.”

Brock and Jane both had the presence of mind to look surprised, and I left them standing with their mouths hanging open, but felt shockingly little vindication. Sure, Jonathan and I had made love during the limo ride to the airport. And it was nice that I was still feeling a little sore between my legs. The wetness there reminded me that he was with me even as he flew around the world.

But it was still cold comfort for being was alone. I looked around the reception to see if there was anyone I recognized, but that was an even worse joke. I didn’t know anyone.

I chatted briefly with my stylist, Rowan, who, though she was technically classified as the help, had been allowed to stay for the ceremony and reception at my insistence. I didn’t understand what Jane’s abhorrence had been about when I’d tried to get Lucy, a member of the Wharton family staff, to attend the wedding. Lucy was the closest thing I had to a friend at the compound, besides Jonathan, and I had wanted her to be here.

If I was being perfectly honest, I wanted Jonathan to be here, not on his way to Paris to contest the vote of no confidence in his worth as CEO of Wharton Group.

And if I were being perfectly delusional, I would’ve wished my parents here, as well, helping me celebrate my marriage to the man I loved. But they were long dead, more than six years, and I knew it was more painful to consider than just forgetting about it entirely.

The champagne had gone to my head, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself — like Jane, who was dancing in a way that no one should be dancing at a wedding, jiggling her enormous fake breasts and shoving Brock’s face into them. Nearly all of the other guests were too polite to stare at the show.

It was time to go home, even if that home wasn’t my home. It was time to go back to the compound. I was exhausted and sad and felt myself on the verge of tears. Rowan had assured me that the makeup was tear-proof, but I didn’t want to make a spectacle out of myself in front of hundreds of strangers. Besides, I’d already cried so much and so many times that I wasn’t sure how much mileage I had left in the makeup. Rowan was a miracle worker, but even she probably had her limits.

I slipped outside of the tent and into the cool spring night. The fresh air helped clear my head, as did getting away from the crush of people and drinks and smells of food.

When I approached the valet station to see about getting a ride home, though, Amelia was standing right there, ending a call on her cell phone. I would’ve bet anything that she had been speaking to Violet. The no-nonsense way that Jonathan had sent his former fiancée packing from his wedding had warmed my heart, but I knew it had made Amelia an even bigger threat.

“Driven away my son so soon?” Amelia asked, arching one fine eyebrow at me.

“You know just as well as I do where he is and why,” I said, trying not to let the hurt and irritation leach into my voice. Amelia would only take pleasure in knowing that she could push my buttons. I shouldn’t have even responded.

As soon as the valet saw me, he waved over the same car that had taken Jonathan and me to the airport. I only wished I could just get on a plane and join him on his worldwide journey to redeem his name.

Instead, I was going to go home without him, to a place that was only home when he was there with me.

-----

Waking up was the worst of it. Each morning without my husband, I would invariably roll over to his side of the bed, patting the cool pillow and smooth mattress. It was a cruel reminder that I was alone in a den of snakes.

I avoided Amelia as best I could, and tried to renew my friendship with Lucy, but she seemed only tenuously friendly to me. I’d gotten her rehired here, in the end, but it had also been my fault — Amelia’s hatred toward me — that had gotten Lucy fired in the first place.

Jane, of all people, turned out to be my savior.

A handful of shapeless, meaningless, empty days after the wedding, she approached me one day as I was downstairs getting a bite to eat. I didn’t like leaving Jonathan’s floor, but sometimes, it was just too hard to be in there by myself.

“Hey, you,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as I clutched my cup of tea reflexively. I was getting quickly conditioned to cringe at the sound of a female voice. My only real ally in the house was Collier, and he was busy manning the company for Jonathan here at the compound.

“Hey, yourself,” I said, smiling. She had been my maid of honor, after all. I could afford to be polite, if not friendly. “What are you up to?”

“Just seeking you out,” my sister-in-law chirped. “You busy?”

I’d just finished up a semester’s worth of online classes, still trying to figure out my destiny. Of course, Jane had been instrumental in pushing me that direction, telling me to take a wide range of topics to hopefully ferret out what was going to be my passion.

“I am the opposite of busy,” I confessed. “I’m bored and lonely.”

“That’s unacceptable,” Jane announced. “Come on. We’re going to lunch.”

“Oh, but the cooks are fixing me something right now,” I said, jerking my thumb at the kitchen behind me. I’d lost interest in food, just telling them to surprise me. I rarely ate more than half of anything anymore — at least, since Jonathan had left.

“Forget about them,” she said, taking me by the elbow. “What do you want to do? Stay here and mope as you eat lunch alone, or come out with me and forget your worries?”

I hated the idea of wasting food, and I hated the thought of just slipping out while someone was cooking a meal especially for me. But I loathed the image of yet another meal eaten in solitude and silence.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked, setting my cup of tea down on the table.

“That’s my sister!” Jane cheered, hooking her arm through mine. “Let’s get out of this tomb!”

It was equal parts strange and good to be called “sister.” It was legally true. I’d married Jane’s brother. But I’d been so used to being alone for so long that it made me shiver a little to have these renewed familial connections.

Of course, if Jane was my sister, that would make Collier and Amelia my parents. I would welcome Collier as a father figure with open arms. He was so wonderful to me. Amelia as my mother would be the nightmare.

Jane alternated between chattering nonstop and poking away at her phone on the car ride to the restaurant she wanted to show me. At one of the parts when she was more engrossed in her phone than she was in me, I took the opportunity to discreetly check my own phone.

Nothing.

The last time I’d heard from Jonathan was when he’d texted me upon landing in Paris — which had been nearly two weeks ago. I read it again, my lips mouthing those precious words.

“We’ve touched down in Paris. I love you and will make this absence up to you soon. Your husband.”

“Love mail from my brother?” Jane asked wryly. When she raised her eyebrow, she looked so much like Amelia that it gave me chills.

“Just looking at an old text message,” I said dismissively, slipping my phone back into my purse.

“Old?” Jane asked. “You mean you haven’t heard from him recently?”

“I know he’s been busy,” I said, shrugging and feeling a little selfish. My husband was in the middle of a whirlwind worldwide tour. He needed to focus on that, not worry about his lonely wife.

“You want me to try to talk some sense into him?” Jane offered, holding up her phone.

“No,” I said quickly. “Let’s not bother him. You know he’s just busy.”

“No one should be too busy to talk to their loved ones,” Jane said.

“Please,” I begged. “I understand that he’s doing all he can to keep his job.”

Jane inhaled sharply. “His job’s at stake?”

“Forget I said anything about it,” I said quickly. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything.”

“I think you should tell me everything you know,” Jane said, putting her phone aside and looking me in the eyes. “I’m his sister. I’m a part of this family. I’m sick of being excluded from the important shit just because I don’t have a hand in the company. It’s my livelihood, too, you know, should I choose to accept it.”

I swallowed. “There was a vote of no confidence. He has to visit the other chairmen to make his case to stay.”

“Those bastards,” she remarked. “Fun trip, though.”

“Can you please not say anything to anybody?” I asked. “Please. I really think your father and Jonathan wanted to keep it as secret as possible.”

“I know how to keep a secret,” she said, picking up her phone again. “My father wants me to be a lawyer, but he’s convinced I won’t be able to honor the lawyer-client confidentiality part of it.”

Jesus. That didn’t make me feel one ounce better.

“So you won’t tell?” I asked, wincing.

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “I’ll prove him wrong right here and now. Michelle, your husband’s secret is safe with me. I swear it. There. Happy?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyways. There was no use alienating Jane, who was so far the only friend I had.

“You know,” I said, trying to change the subject, “maybe you really should be a lawyer. You got that out of me right away.”

“You might have something there,” Jane said, smiling at me. “My father says it’s because when there’s something I want, I don’t stop until it’s mine. He used to think it was just because I was spoiled. Now he calls it tenacity.”