Chapter 11

Wick never put me down.Not when he slid us in the back of an SUV that seemed to appear by magic on the road that cut through the park. Not during the drive back to our building. Not when we arrived home.

Keeping me wrapped in his arms, he walked us from the car to the front doors. My face was still buried against his neck, my entire frame trembling from the adrenaline crash, but I felt him nod as Cliff murmured a greeting.

Then, almost hesitantly, Cliff asked, “Is there anything you need Mr. Forrester?”

“Not at the moment, but expect the police shortly. Please let me know when they arrive.” Wick’s tone was rough as he stalked across the floor to our elevator. He didn’t speak again until we were inside, the doors closed firmly behind us. “Sia.”

I sniffled in response, my fingers tightening around a fistful of his shirt that I clutched in my fingers.

“Sweetheart, I need to know if I should call for a doctor,” he murmured.

“I don’t think so,” I managed to choke out.

Wick’s muscles were pulled taut, his entire body coiled like it was ready to defend me again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to stop my mind from replaying the image of Wick’s fist hitting Mr. Covington. The sound of my boss—former boss—hitting the ground with a grunt before laying so still.

Fear twisted my insides into knots. Would Wick get in trouble? Would the police arrest him for assaulting Mr. Covington?

“Sia,” Wick started, his arms tightening around me as the elevator dinged our arrival at the penthouse. “Baby, you have to take slow breaths for me.”

I tried, but the air got stuck in my throat, never making it to my lungs.

Wick stalked through the penthouse, automatic lights brightening the space as we moved from the foyer to the kitchen. He set me on the island, standing between my legs. He tried to put a breath of space between us, but I clutched at his shoulders like a baby koala.

“Don’t g-go,” I forced out through chattering teeth. Why was I so cold?

“You’re going into shock.” Wick”s voice was low and gentle as he spoke to me.

I burrowed against his chest, seeking warmth and protection. “S-sorry.”

His lips curled into a smile against the top of my head. “You’re apologizing to me? Pretty sure I’m the one who owes you the apology.”

“I left.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, dragging him closer still.

“You did,” he agreed, stroking my back, “but now you’re back where you belong. Here. With me. You’re safe, Sia.”

I hiccuped a breath. “Will you get in trouble?”

Now Wick pulled back, just enough so he could look me in the eye. “Absolutely not.”

“The police?—”

“Will need our statements, but I was defending my wife from an attacker,” Wick added. “A man who had already harassed her earlier today. I could’ve shot him in the head and no one would have filed a single charge against me. Hell, Danny likely would have shaken my hand.”

I frowned. “Danny?”

He grinned. “Daniel Waterstone, the District Attorney.”

“You know the District Attorney?” I gaped at him in shock.

“He’s an old friend,” Wick replied breezily. “And I can assure you, he feels the same way I do about men like Covington threatening women.”

I stared at him, still reeling from what had happened earlier. “I can’t believe you came after me.”

His lips flattened. “About that. Sia, there’s something you need to know?—”

He was cut off by the obnoxious buzz of the intercom, alerting us that someone was in the lobby.

“Shit. Wait here,” he instructed before turning on his heel and walking back out to the foyer to punch the button. “What?”

Cliff’s voice floated through the box. “Mr. Forrester, the police are here.”

“Send them up,” Wick replied before letting go of the button.

I slid off the counter and had to catch myself when my knees wobbled.

“Sia,” Wick chastised, hurrying to my side.

“Sorry,” I said, not sure why I was apologizing, but it seemed to be my default setting.

He cupped the side of my face, his gaze darkening as he studied me. His thumb stroked my cheek. “I could have lost you tonight.”

“You didn’t,” I assured him.

His gaze clouded as he shook his head. “After everything I’ve done to make you mine, I almost ruined it.”

“What?” I whispered, not sure what he meant.

The elevators chimed, announcing the arrival of the two officers who stepped off the car.

Wick turned, mostly blocking me from view as the officers hesitated to come further.

“Good evening, sir,” the bolder of the two greeted, stepping forward.

“Come in,” Wick told them, waving them toward the living room. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he led me forward and situated us together on one of the large sofas while the officers stood.

“I’m Detective Moore, and this is my partner, Detective Parsons,” the first man said, gesturing to himself first and then his stockier companion. “First we wanted to let you know we apprehended the suspect involved in Mrs. Forrester’s attack. He’s currently being held at the eighty-fifth precinct.”

Detective Parsons cleared his throat. “This is mostly a formality. We just need statements from you both regarding what transpired this evening.”

Wick turned to me, his expression grim as he took my hand. “Go ahead, baby.”

I recounted everything that had happened from when I’d left the building, not going into why I’d left, but focusing on what had occurred when I’d entered Central Park. I told them about the dog, and then about how Mr. Covington had attacked me.

A deep shiver rolled down my spine, and Wick’s arm held me tighter to his side.

Taking a deep breath, I finished my story with Wick showing up and saving me.

“Sounds like you’ve been through quite the ordeal, Mrs. Forrester,” Detective Moore stated, nodding to his partner, who had been taking notes. “The spot of the park you were in has security cameras. We’ve already requested the footage, and as long as there’s no discrepancies with your testimony and the tapes, we won’t need anything else.”

“Thank you,” Wick said, speaking for both of us.

“Of course,” Detective Moore replied with a nod. He gave me a small smile. “Truly sorry for the trouble you experienced, Mrs. Forrester.”

“Thank you,” I whispered as Wick stood to escort them out. I instantly felt the absence of his warmth, and I grabbed a chunky knit throw blanket from the back of the sofa.

When I’d first arrived, Wick’s home was devoid of things like throw blankets. But the day after I’d fallen asleep watching a movie on the sofa, throw blankets in a multitude of textures had appeared on the backs of chairs and couches.

Running my fingers over the soft fabric, I wrapped it around myself and watched the officers leave and Wick return.

“Did you do this?” I asked when he reappeared in the room.

His brow furrowed. “This?”

I touched the blanket. “The blankets.”

His mouth curved ever-so-slightly. “Yes. I thought you’d prefer them if you planned on watching more movies.”

“Thank you,” I said, realizing I’d never said that.

I’d never said thank you when he’d started making me meals. When my favorite coffee started to appear in a sparkly pink mug every morning with the perfect amount of cream and sugar. Not when the blankets had shown up, and not when my favorite drinks and snacks were stocked in the pantry.

Wick had done all of that. Or seen to all of it.

And I’d been too in my own head to realize it. Too busy tiptoeing around my husband to see that, in his own way, he’d been trying. Too busy blaming him to see all the ways he was showing up for me.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” he replied, coming to stand in front of me before lowering himself to the edge of the coffee table.

I licked my lips, nervous energy thrumming under the surface of my skin and crackling in my veins. “Wick?—”

“May I go first, please?” He reached for my hands.

I nodded, the words sticking in my throat.

His brow creased. “Have you heard of OCD?”

Now it was my turn to frown. “Obsessive compulsive disorder? Of course I have.”

He drew in a deep breath, looking uncertain for the first time since I’d met him. “When I was younger, I was diagnosed with OCD.”

“Okay.” Did he think that somehow made him less of a person because he had a disorder that was completely out of his control? “Wick, I don’t care.”

“I hyperfixate on things.” He cleared his throat. “On people.”

“People?” I echoed.

He let my hands go, running a palm over his face. “I’m fucking this up.” He stood abruptly and paced to the window, his back to me.

I didn’t move. “I don’t understand… but I want to. You can tell me.”

“Hyperfixation is a condition that can be attributed to several diagnoses,” Wick answered, still facing the window and staring out at the city lights below. “OCD, ADHD, anxiety, autism… There are therapies and medications, but nothing really worked for me, so I learned how to channel it.”

He turned, looking a little lost for a moment before his gaze latched on me. “As a kid it was dinosaurs. I could tell you the approximate size of a stegosaurus, the average lifespan of a pterodactyl, the differences between the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous periods.”

“That’s cool,” I offered, still not sure where this was going, but willing to listen. The normal controlled volume of Wick’s voice lifted and fell with his enthusiasm.

“As a teenager, I became obsessed with the stock market. About finding patterns and themes. It’s how I was able to make money so fast. And after that, I started focusing on businesses. On learning assets and knowing when to buy or sell companies, stocks…” He trailed off.

I stiffened. One of those companies had been Papa’s.

“It was why I was there,” Wick admitted.

Tingles pricked my skin. “Why you were where?”

“The party at your house,” he rasped, finally meeting my eyes. “Your grandfather’s company was failing. It came across my desk in a report, and gems are usually a safe investment. Rarely do precious gems—especially the kind your grandfather used—loose value. I went to the holiday party hoping to meet him. I wanted to invest. To become his partner.”

My breath caught.

“And then I saw you.” Wick’s tone became almost reverent. “I saw you crying when no one was around, and, for the first time in my life, I became obsessed with a person.”

“Me?” I pressed a hand to my chest, stunned.

He nodded, giving me a wary look. “Yes, you. I remember the dress you wore. The shoes with the tiniest scuff on the heel of the red sole. The way the light caught in the diamonds of your jewelry. The way you smelled like snow and fresh strawberries. But you weren’t a dinosaur that I could check out thousands of books to learn about, and you weren’t something I could buy. I needed a new approach.”

“What did you do?”

His lips thinned. “I had to make you need me as much as I needed you.”

It took a minute for the dots to connect, but when they did, I was on my feet. “The auction.”

Wick nodded slowly. “Your grandfather was making one bad decision after the next, destroying his company piece by piece. I considered saving it. Considered playing the white knight and hoping you met me through him, but I also knew the odds weren’t that great. So, I waited. And when he passed away…

“You took his company. You took everything,” I whispered. “But how could you have known I’d turn to Wife for Hire?”

He winced. “The agency is very selective about who they offer their services to, and I knew Mr. Devane had met his wife through them. And when I learned he was your grandfather’s attorney, I knew he would mention them to you. It was the only logical move he could make, and I was right.”

“But how could you know that I’d agree to it?”

This time he didn’t flinch. “Because I know people, and I knew what moves to make to ensure you were exactly where I wanted you.”

“How?” I was so confused.

“With the right amount of money and resources, you can learn anything about anyone. And you, sweetheart, were worth everything. I knew I had to make you mine, make you need me enough to be mine, so I did.” He was so unapologetic about the fact that he’d controlled my life like a puppeteer.

“This was all just… what? A game?” Hurt sliced through my heart as I shook my head.

“No,” Wick growled. “You were never a game, Sia. A game implies you had a chance, and, I’m sorry, baby, but you never did. Not after I saw you. That night sealed both our fates. You were always going to be mine.”

My breath caught as Wick leveled me with a vulnerable look.

“But it also meant that I would always, will always, be yours, Sia.”