Chapter 106 Chapter One hundred and five
ARA
I was in luck the next time I found Thayne’s phone ringing without him hovering over it. It was barely four in the morning, and the sky was still dark outside the penthouse windows.
I knew I should have been more concerned about where he’d gone, he’d slipped out without a word. But right now, that didn’t matter.
What mattered was the phone vibrating on the nightstand like it had a life of its own.
I dove for it.
My fingers fumbled, sliding the green button to the right before I could even glance at the caller ID. The screen lit up my face in the dim room.
I said nothing. I slowed my breathing, a million thoughts racing in my head.
Could this be Celia? She seemed to be running her mouth yesterday, even though I hadn't heard her voice at all.
I calmed my nerves and waited. I was rewarded for my patience a minute later. A woman’s voice came through. It was smooth, confident, and edged with amusement.
“So you’re just going to keep me in suspense, is that right, Thayne?”
She laughed softly, like she knew something I didn’t.
I was tempted to ask her to fuck the hell off, but on a second thought, I pursed my lips
“Anyway, I have some news that will remind those slack jaws to work again. I’ve got pictures of us from that night, since you were so sure nothing happened. And if that’s not enough, I’ve got a tape. I think you know what to do with this update.”
The line went quiet for a second, waiting for a response. My stomach turned over.
Not just pictures. But a tape, too.
I stared at the phone in my hand, pain pulsing through me as I struggled to push all of it away. Out of reach where I couldn't remember.
My thumb hovered over the end call button. But I didn’t press it. Instead, I brought the phone to my ear, lowering my voice to a whisper.
“He’s not here.”
Silence rang on the other end. Then a slow, delighted exhale.
“Well, well,” Celia purred. “If it isn’t the little, broken, wife. I’ve been dying to talk to you.”
“What do you want?” I asked her.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. “I just want what’s mine. Thayne promised me things. Protection, money, a way out of my debts and a chic life. But then he disappeared. But I have evidence of what we did.”
I gripped the phone tighter, my hands trembling.
“What evidence?”
She laughed again, and I just hated the fact that this conversation was on phone. If we were having it in person, I would have probably gone out of character.
“Like I said. Pictures. Video. They are enough to make your marriage look like the joke everyone in New York already thinks it is. And enough to ruin him if he doesn’t pay up.”
My free hand went to my belly, and I sighed. “You’re blackmailing him.”
“Call it collecting on a debt,” she said. “He used me. Now I use him.”
I closed my eyes. “How much do you want, Celia?” Her name tasted like ash on my tongue.
She named a number. I rounded it up to seven figures in my head. The kind of money that could buy silence for years.
“Wire it by tonight,” she said. “Or the pictures go to every gossip site, every board member, every enemy your husband has left. I don't make empty promises.”
The line went dead after the last word. I sat there on the edge of the bed, my phone still pressed to my ear, listening to the dial tone.
Thayne had told me it was nothing. He had told me it was for me. But Celia had proof.
I rose from the bed like nothing had happened. My hands shook as I opened the call log, my thumb trembling over the number for a long second before I pressed delete.
The entry vanished. I placed the phone back on the nightstand exactly where it had been, screen down.
I wouldn’t tell him about this. Not yet. I needed to see his reaction first, I needed to know what he would do when the truth walked through the door.
I climbed back under the covers and forced myself to close my eyes. Sleep didn’t come easily. My mind kept replaying her voice, the way she said “pictures” and “tape” like they were weapons she couldn’t wait to use.
Tears slipped down my cheeks anyway. I cried quietly into the pillow until exhaustion finally pulled me under.
I woke to commotion. It started as faint, muffled voices, footsteps, and the low hum of tension. It grew louder, sharper. Thayne hadn’t come back to bed yet, and now worry twisted in my gut.
Where was the noise coming from?
The penthouse walls were thick, soundproofed to luxury levels, so the noise felt distant at first, like an argument playing through a closed door down a long hallway. But it was close, too close.
I sat up, my heart racing, and hurried out of the bedroom.
The living room stretched ahead of me, open-plan, massive, with its white marble floors, low sectional sofas, and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering Paris skyline.
The city lights looked cold tonight, but none of that mattered when I registered the scene I'd walked into.
Thayne stood in the center of the room, his back to me, dressed in his black running gear. His shoulders were rigid, every muscle locked like he was holding himself back from violence.
In front of him stood a tall, long-legged blonde.
She was stunning in the way expensive women often are: sharp cheekbones, glossy hair swept over one shoulder, red lipstick that matched the silk blouse she wore.
A brown envelope dangled from her manicured fingers casually.
She smiled when she saw me. Thayne turned at the sound of my footsteps.
What was going on? I was used to things and people springing up on me by now, but this one just felt too much.
The expression on Thayne's face stopped me cold. It was shock, anger, and guilt, all at once. His eyes widened, then narrowed, like he was trying to shield me from what was about to happen.
“Oh, hello, wife,” the blonde said amusedly. “We talked earlier this morning. I'm Celia, your husband's agent of distraction.” She flashed a wide smile at me.
She waved the envelope, smiling like the cat that caught the goldfish.
How was she here?