Chapter 54

CHAPTER 54

Finn

W hen I woke up at dawn and saw her, I knew what I had to do. Sprawled on the bed, her hair fanned out on a pillow, her face so peaceful with her full lips parted, she was a thing of beauty, a work of art. Even with her canvas of scars more visible in the early morning light. This woman who I made love to all night long, whose body I spooned until sunlight snuck through a window. This exquisite miracle. The mother of my child. The only woman who's shared my bed. My wife. My beauty. My Skye.

I have everything to risk; everything to gain.

Quietly slipping out of the bed, I pull the thick duvet over her. She stirs, lifting an arm over her head and curling a smile on her face. I smile back at her, bending to lightly kiss her forehead. Her eyes closed, she moans a happy moan. Not wanting to make any noise opening and closing drawers, I quickly gather the clothes I wore last night. My sweats and T-shirt strewn on the floor. The clothes I couldn't get off fast enough. I get dressed quickly and holding my sneakers in my hands, I tiptoe out of the room.

Anxiety builds as I trek down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen. Hastily, I make some coffee using my Keurig. Once it's done, I take a few fortifying sips of the piping hot black brew. I search my mind. What the hell am I going to tell her ? My mind draws a blank. The coffee no help, I toss the remainder of the dark liquid down the drain and slam the mug on the counter. No more procrastinating.

There's one thing I've got to do before I leave. My pulse revving in my ears, I hurry to the great room and make a beeline for the very early portrait I did of Skye right after we got married and moved to LA. It was my wedding present to her. Carefully, I remove it from the wall and set it down. Behind it is a small built-in safe. Punching in the combination—12-22-06—the date we got married, I watch as the steel door springs open. Reaching inside, I anxiously fish for what I'm looking for. Under the deed to the house, I find it. A small red velvet pouch. Removing it from the safe, I give it a little shake. The jingle inside is music to my ears. Thinking about my plan brings a smile to my face. Tightening the drawstring to make sure the contents are secure and don't fall out, I slip the bag into a pocket and close the safe.

Two minutes later, I'm out the door. And behind the wheel.

***

I glance at the clock on my dashboard. Exactly seven. It's Saturday and minus the weekday rush hour traffic, I've gotten to my destination in less than an hour. I swerve my Land Rover into the crescent-shaped driveway of her luxury hi-rise condo building. Sierra Towers. The venerable, impossible-to-get-into home to movie stars, moguls, and other assorted A-listers. Close to trendy Sunset Plaza, the Chateau Marmont, and many prestigious art galleries, including Jaime Zander's. It makes sense Kayla would choose to live here. Especially since Daddy had a spare unit. I throw the SUV into park, crank the door open, and jump out. A smiling doorman, who works the morning shift, greets me. Harry.

"Mr. Jackson. We weren't expecting you. Especially so early."

"It's a spur of the moment visit. Is Kayla here?"

"I believe so. Would you like me to notify her that you're here?"

"Harry, let's keep it a surprise." Reaching into my pocket, I slip him a twenty-dollar bill.

With a wink, he gladly accepts it, shoving it into a pocket of his prim gray uniform. "I'll let the concierge know you're cleared."

"Thanks," I say as I lope to the entrance of the building. "By the way, do me a favor, Harry. Keep my car here. I won't be long."

At least I hope. With a smile, he swings open a glass door, and I dash inside. The lobby's a blur as I jog through it. There's only one thing on my mind.

Thank God, the elevator comes quickly. The doors ding open. To my relief, there's no one inside it or waiting to share it. Stepping into the pristine carriage, I jab the button marked PH. Kayla's condo is a penthouse unit, thirty-two floors up with spectacular views of the city. The doors close smoothly. My heart thuds as the elevator ascends swiftly. It doesn't make any stops.

When the elevator reaches the top floor and dings open, I charge out, marching straight to Kayla's unit. There are only two units on the floor. One to the right, one to the left. Kayla's is the latter.

I stare for a brief moment at the sterile white door, collecting my thoughts. Stupid me should have written down a speech. Rehearsed it. Then, memorized it. But once again, so not like me. I couldn't even prepare a speech for my beloved wife's funeral. I'm going to have to wing it.

I ring the bell. No answer. I ring again. Once more, no answer. My pulse spikes with frustration. I ring yet again, this time holding the buzzer down. It rings in my ears like a bee about to sting. Bzzzzzz!

Nada.

Then, just as I'm about to give up, I hear the hiss of a chain followed by the double click of a lock. The door swings open.

Kayla, holding a crutch and dressed in a sheer white negligee, faces me. Leaving little to the imagination, the short nightgown grazes her long, toned legs, one of which sports a black boot cast. Her cropped platinum bob is a bedroom-made bird's nest. To no avail, she tries to fix it, raking her free hand through her scalp like a plow. She gives up.

"Phineas, what the hell are you doing here?" she gasps. "I thought you were the Grub Hub delivery guy."

"Let. Me. In." I punch each short word with authority.

She glares at me. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk." I fire the words at her.

She chews her lower lip, her expression atypically anxious. Then, another voice drifts into my ears.

"Hey, darlin.' Breakfast is here?"

A velvety drawl. I recognize it immediately. Kayla's cheeks flare as I look over her shoulder.

A tall, lean, fit man, wearing just a stark white towel wrapped around his hips treads toward us. His thick silver hair is slicked back as if he's just stepped out of a shower.

Our eyes clash as he stops dead in his tracks. If either of us took another step, it would be a fatal head-on collision.

Looking at me coyly, Kayla fidgets with her sparkling engagement ring. "Darling, I can explain."

"Explain what!?"

I answer my own question. "Explain him !" I stab the pronoun at her.

"Oh, you mean Jim?" The nonchalant tone of her voice makes my blood curdle. I can feel my body heating as I hold her hot in my gaze.

"Are you screwing him?" Silence. "Answer me, Kayla!"

Composing herself with a fling of her head, Kayla bats her thick eyelashes, then plasters a smug, confident smile on her face.

"Darling, please, it's just business. Jim is a new client. He's even interested in acquiring one of your works to expand his collection."

"Are you fricking kidding me? Are you on drugs?" I bark. "Maybe the bastard's got other interests." Blow and blowjobs.

The silent observer swaggers up to us and stands behind Kayla. Barefoot, he's about my height. Meeting me eye to eye, he snarls. "Did you just call me a bastard?"

"I should have called you one years ago."

He scoffs at me. "What the hell do you mean?"

"For screwing my wife over. Skye deserved to have her own show."

Hartley snickers. "She was too nosy for her own good."

"So obnoxious," singsongs Kayla.

"You would know." I spit out the words, my teeth clenched as tightly as my fists. My nails bite into my palms as my eyes stay gridlocked with the prick.

"So now, you screw my fiancée."

Cupping his hands on her shoulders, he shrugs dismissively as if he has my permission. You know what? He does. Suddenly, I remember, through my shock and anger, I came here to break up with Kayla. I mentally grin like a Cheshire cat. He's made it so goddamn easy for me.

"Guess what, bastard. You can fuck her as much as you want."

Overtaken by surprise, Kayla's eyes widen again. "What are you saying, Phineas?"

"Read. My. Lips. It's over."

"Over?" She repeats the word like a toddler learning it for the first time. Ha! Maybe I should spell it for her.

"O-V-E-R."

Do tears leak from her eyes? Hell no. Not a single one. Instead, they narrow into two sharp jade blades that can cut through anything. But me.

"Are you out of your mind?" she shrieks.

"No." Pause. "I'm out of here. " For a brief second, I glance down at the ring I gave her. The three-carat diamond twinkles like it's winking at me. My eyes return to hers. "Keep your damn ring. I don't want it back."

"Good," she bites back as I pivot on my heel and lunge toward the elevator. I punch the down button in victory, the word "Yes!" loud on my breath. I'm done with Kayla. I can't wait to get back home and gather Skye in my arms. And that's just for starters. Impatiently, I tap my foot. Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Goddamn elevator. Slower than torture. I jab the button again, feeling Kayla's eyes on my back.

"What about our contract?" Her voice is shrill. "Don't forget, I represent you till the end of the year."

Shit. I forgot about that contract.

"If you break it, I'm going to sue your ass for all you have."

"I'll call you," I say calmly though my muscles clench at the thought of being stuck with her. Even professionally.

"And you better not screw up the Zander show. There's too much riding on it. Including your career."

The door to her condo slams shut with a bang as the elevator glides open with a ding. A harmony of sorts. I step inside it and the doors slide closed. As the elevator descends, I blow out a breath.

Mission accomplished. Sinking a hand into my pocket, I clutch the soft velvet pouch, rubbing the hard contents between my fingers.

A euphoric lightness of being soars inside me. I'm a free man. It's time to officially reclaim my wife.