Jealousy

Jealousy
Erik came home earlier than Catherine expected. She heard his key in the lock shortly before eight and looked up from the dining table, where her laptop sat between a stack of printed schedules and the remains of a dinner she had barely touched. He appeared in the doorway with his jacket folded over one arm and his tie loosened at the collar.

“You’re home.”

“I said I would try.”

“You usually say that before calling at eleven to tell me you’re still at the office.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t call.”

Catherine closed her laptop. Erik crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her. His hand settled briefly against the side of her neck, warm and familiar, but the kiss ended before she had fully shifted toward him.

“Vandervoort?”

“The final implementation plan. Thomas found another issue with the staffing schedule this afternoon.”

“Can it wait until morning?”

“It can.”

Erik looked at her untouched plate.

“Apparently dinner could as well.”

“I ate some of it.”

“Two bites doesn’t count.”

“You sound like Natalie.”

“That may be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Catherine smiled and pushed back her chair. She carried the plate into the kitchen while Erik poured himself a glass of water. For the first time in weeks, neither of them had somewhere else to be. Still, she remained aware of how carefully they were moving around each other.

“How was Boston?” she asked.

“Useful but I’m glad to be home.”

“So am I.”

He watched her place the plate beside the sink.

“I’m sorry about Monday.”

“I know you didn’t choose for the meeting to run late.”

“I could have left.”

“You were closing an acquisition.”

“And you were waiting for me.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “We’ve both made the other person wait lately.”

“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”

Her phone vibrated on the table before Erik could respond. Catherine glanced at the screen. A message from Juliano appeared beneath his name.

The revised figures have been approved. Congratulations.

She picked up the phone and typed a brief reply.

“That’s late for Vandervoort,” Erik said.

“It’s two in the morning in New York when Juliano normally decides he needs an answer. Eight o’clock is almost considerate.”

“What did he want?”

“To tell me the revised figures were approved.”

“That required a personal message?”

“He’s the investor.”

“He has people for that.”

“So do you. You still contact the people running the companies you invest in.”

“During business hours.”

Catherine set her phone down.

“You called Singapore at six this morning.”

“That was scheduled.”

“And Juliano sent me one sentence about a project we’re both working on.”

Erik looked toward the darkened windows.

“He contacts you often.”

“We work together.”

“Moretti Capital has people who could have sent that approval.”

Catherine studied him. “What are you actually asking?”

“I’m asking why Moretti needs to contact you personally every time something happens.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Late-night calls. Gifts. Messages that could come from anyone on his team.”

“I dealt with the calls, and the pen was a congratulatory gift.”

“From a man who has never given anyone anything without expecting a return.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know him.”

“You keep saying that, but you never explain what it means.”

Erik’s jaw shifted. “It means you should be careful.”

“I am careful.”

“With business, yes.”

“With everything.”

“He’s interested in you.”

The words landed between them with more force than their volume justified.

Catherine stared at him. “Professionally.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to decide what someone else feels.”

“I’ve watched him around you.”

“And I’ve watched you assume the worst every time his name comes up.”

“Because I know what he’s capable of.”

“Then tell me.”

Erik picked up his glass, although he didn’t drink from it.

He had warned her about Juliano from the beginning, questioning every meeting, call and invitation. Whenever she asked why, he gave her the same answers. History. Competition. Fifteen years of knowing how Juliano operated.

Never the truth beneath it.

“Whatever happened between the two of you has nothing to do with me,” she said, “unless you make it part of our marriage.”

“He is making it part of our marriage.”

“By sending me a message about a client?”

“By finding reasons to stay close to you.”

“And you think I’m encouraging him?”

Erik placed the glass on the counter. “This is about him.”

“Then stop questioning me as if it isn’t.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From trusting someone who will use it against you.”

She took a breath before answering. “Juliano has never asked me for anything inappropriate. He has never disrespected my marriage. He has supported Revenir’s work and helped solve problems when he didn’t have to.”

“Exactly.”

Catherine frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means Moretti doesn’t do anything without a reason.”

“And apparently you’re the only person allowed to know what that reason is.”

Erik went still.

The anger Catherine had expected never came. His gaze dropped briefly to her phone before returning to her face, and what she saw there was harder to dismiss. He was jealous. Beneath the controlled questions and warnings, beneath every sharp response to Juliano’s name, there was something far more personal.

“You don’t trust me,” she said.

His answer came immediately. “I trust you completely.”

“Then trust me to recognize when someone crosses a line.”

“You haven’t recognized it yet.”

Regret appeared in his expression, but Catherine had already stepped away.

“So I’m too naive to understand what’s happening around me?”

“Moretti is patient. He won’t reveal his intentions until he’s certain of the outcome.”

“You’re talking as though this is a strategy meeting.”

“For him, it probably is.”

Catherine shook her head. “You’ve turned every interaction I have with him into evidence for something you refuse to explain.”

“Catherine.”

“No. You cannot warn me about a danger you won’t name and then resent me for failing to see it.”

She picked up her laptop and the schedules from the dining table.

Erik moved toward her. “Where are you going?”

“To finish this in the study.”

“I thought it could wait.”

“So did I.”

His hand closed around the back of one of the chairs. “I don’t want another night where we work in separate rooms.”

“Then give me a reason to stay in this one.”

Silence settled around them. Erik looked tired. She could see it in the shadows beneath his eyes and the tension across his shoulders. Part of her wanted to salvage the evening, but affection could not answer the question he kept avoiding.

Catherine held the laptop against her chest.

“You say you trust me. I need you to act like it.”

“I do trust you.”

“Then tell me why you hate him.”

Erik’s grip tightened around the chair. For several seconds, he said nothing. Catherine waited one final time. When he still didn’t answer, she turned toward the hallway.

“Catherine.”

She stopped without looking back. His voice was lower when he spoke again.

“It isn’t a story I’m proud of.”

She faced him.

“Then tell me the truth.”