Matter of Choice Page 18

  Triston stood and gathered Shannon in eager arms, cradling her as he walked around the side of the bed and eased her down. She shook her head. She didn’t want to make love, needed casual sex even less.

  He smiled. “You misunderstand me, love. I won’t lay a hand on you in that way until the day the divorce papers are legal, and you are free to be mine in every way. But what I do intend to do is hold you until the sun comes up. Wipe your tears, mend your broken heart. And make you fall in love with me all over again.”

  She closed her eyes, the scent of the hotel sheets filling her senses: clean, fresh, unsoiled. The bleached detergent sparked a yearning for an internal cleansing from all Greg stripped away. He made a mockery of everything she believed in.

  As the bed yielded to Triston’s weight and the blankets tightened around Shannon’s body as he settled on top the covers, she sighed, body tingling for a moment when the heaviness of his arm settled against her waist.

  “It’s okay, love. You can cry. You can scream. You can do whatever you need or want to do. You’re not going to hurt my feelings, and it doesn’t matter if it would. I’m here for you. That’s my promise. I will never abandon you again.” His fingers pushed strands of hair that lay haphazard against her cheek. His lips caressed the soft skin, then he restrained. “You deserve happiness, blissfully real happiness, Shannon. Don’t punish yourself any longer with him.”

  Triston’s words struck a cord somewhere within Shannon and the dam which had been so tightly secured broke free. Her body quaked, the floodgates open, rapids of suppressed anguish pouring forward. Hands pet her hair, wiped away the salt water, held tight to her angst-ridden body. The ferocious storm of anger erupted as depression subsided, drying the tears as parched as the desert. Her ears reddened as thoughts tallied the women he had cheated on her with. The risks he brought to her. Disease, jealous rampages, anything could have happened. He could have brought back any kind of poisonous vipers into their home, ready to strike as a result of his escapades. She gritted her teeth, body tightening. Followed by a wash of relief. It was over. She no longer had to tolerate him, or his ways.

  All the while, Triston held her. He never fell asleep, never complained, never got up and walked away.

  She fell asleep in his arms, at peace for the first time in more years than she cared to count.

  And she didn’t have to count them … not ever again.

  *

  Shannon woke the next morning with Triston’s soft snore in her ear, his arm draped over her. She rolled, careful not to wake him, and grinned to see him sprawled on top of the blankets, fully clothed in the same jeans and t-shirt. He kept his promise and never left her side.

  Slowly, she reached for his hand, easing it off, silently maneuvering off the bed. Triston stirred, eyes opening into narrow slits. “Going somewhere?” His voice was hoarse with early morning grogginess.

  Shannon blushed. “It’s morning. I have to go downstairs and find some clothes for work.”

  Triston rolled onto his back, arm stretching over his head. “Don’t leave. You own the place. You’re allowed to be late.”

  She sat on the mattress, a grin playing on her lips. “Now what kind of example would that be to my staff?”

  Triston smiled, eyes still hazy with sleep, and he eased himself up on an elbow. “A good one. Lets them know who’s boss.”

  She shook her head. It amazed her how easy it was to be with him. Even now, knowing all she knew, all the devastation from the night before. Triston made it all right somehow. “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on.” He leaned forward, ready to kiss her, but she backed up, covering her mouth with a hand.

  “Morning breath and all. Plus, I’m technically still a married woman.”

  “Who just spent the night in my bed. I think that warrants a small peck. And it’s not like we haven’t already crossed that line a time or two. Deliciously. So don’t worry about morning breath, love. I’m hoping I have a good many years of your morning breath to look forward to.”

  Shannon laughed. “All the more reason to wait.” She stood. “I really should be going. I need to take care of that ‘technical married’ stuff too. It’s going to be a busy day, and I can’t put it off.”

  Triston sighed. “Okay. I don’t want you to put that off either. But have breakfast with me, at least. Room service. I’ll order, you can hide out in the bathroom and no one will ever know.”

  Shannon shook her head, while her eyes remained locked on his perfect form. How she ever made it through a night with all that temptation, she’d never know. “No. Not here, and not yet. Let me get the ball rolling, okay? If we have all those years ahead of us, one morning isn’t going to hurt anything.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  Shannon grinned. “Let me deal with this first, then we can make promises to one another.”

  “Oh, baby, I’ve already broke that rule on so many levels.”

  *

  Shannon stepped out of the elevator and her heart dropped. Standing in the middle of the lobby, with arms folded and icy glare pasted across his face, stood Greg. Guests clustered together with tightened expression, allowing him a large stretch of space as Greg circled like a caged animal. Naomi was on her feet at the desk, fingers poised over the handset, indecision gleamed bright.

  Shannon’s shoulders tightened, would it never end?

  His face intensified, the meeting of their gaze direct. “Good morning, my wife.”

  Shannon shook her head and stepped forward. “You’ve lost your right to call me that,” she hissed.

  He swung an arm, lightening quick, and struck centerpiece vase. China, water and flowers plunged to the floor as guests and staff spun to face him, all wide-eyed and mouths agape.

  Shannon moved across the flooring to the front desk, her face flushed and pulse racing. In all of their years together, Greg had never been violent in any way, shape or manner. This side of him was new, and made him ugly despite what had always been devilishly good looks.

  “Do you want me to call the police, Ms. Winters?” Naomi whispered behind her with the phone already in hand.

  Shannon shook her head. “No. That won’t be necessary. Thank you.” She rushed towards Greg. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t make a public display out of our private problem.”

  “Where would you like to go, princess?” he growled, chest rising and falling with shortened breaths.

  She rolled her eyes. The theatrics of a child losing his favorite toy. She wondered, now, how she’d ever loved him. She was sure, now, he’d never loved her. “To my office.”

  She stood facing the window, arms wrapped around her shoulders, back to the man she once loved. She couldn’t bear to look at him now. The face turned her stomach and rotted her heart. “What’s the problem? Why the drama in the lobby?”

  She sensed the space constrict as Greg neared her. “Because you were with him last night. Why do you have to act like a whore now that I’ve decided to come clean?”

  Rage, which had been bubbling deep within the cauldron of her stomach, simmered over like hot lava, and she spun, eyes shooting daggers. “Call me a whore, Greg? After all you’ve done. After who you’ve done. Just because you’ve decided, at the last possible minute, to come to me and tell me you’ve been a fraud all this time. Who are you?”

  His lip curled into a snarl, and then faded into drooped corners. “I’m sorry, Shannon. You’re right. I’m a fool.”

  She shook her head and pressed index fingers into the corners of her eyes. “I can’t do this, Greg. I’m worn out.”

  “Because of him.”

  “No, not because of him.” She threw her hands in the air. “This has nothing to do with Triston. We talk, okay? He makes me feel like a woman again, which is more than I can say for you, husband. But nothing happened. And it’s not even any of your business. You gave that right up a long time ago, when you chose to fake amnesia to spread your cheating desires all over the great state
of New York.”

  “So you won’t even give me a chance to win you back? To prove I’ve changed?”

  “A chance? What kind of chance do you think you deserve?”

  “I’m your husband, I deserve every chance.”

  She shook her head. “No, Greg. You haven’t changed. You saw I wasn’t going to play the role of blind, naïve little housewife any longer, and it scared you. You don’t love me. I doubt you ever have. I was a conquest you got carried away with, trapped yourself in a marriage, and you found the coward’s way out by cheating with everyone and everything while pretending you had no clue what you were doing. You’re not a man.” She shrugged, face elongated, eyes shadowed with sadness. “You’re a coward. A boy. Not a man.”

  Greg took a couple of steps towards her, fury dark in his eyes. He raised a hand, just as the door flew open behind him. Shannon looked over his shoulder to see Triston, poised to fight.

  “I wouldn’t do it, man. If your hand so much as nears her, you’ll be sorry. I can promise you that.” Triston’s tone was hardened, even.

  Greg lowered his arm slowly, and turned to face Triston. Laughter cracked through the room like lightning as he returned his fury-laced face in Shannon’s direction. “So this is what you’re trading me in for?” He nodded in Triston’s direction. “Some nobody?”

  “He’s better than you ever can hope to be.”

  He took another intimidating step, mere inches from her face. Triston rushed forward, ready to grab him. Shannon held up a hand, holding Triston off.

  “You’ll be sorry. You’ll be left with nothing.”

  She chortled. “No, what I’ve had was nothing. What I’m going to have is oh so much better.”

  He stared at her, wrath thick and grotesque against his features. Considerations rushed across his face, while she stood hard against him, the dare glaring. He snorted, the fury gone, a malicious calm replacing it. “You were less than nothing once, you’ll be worse by the time I’m done with you. Hope you chose wisely babe.”

  “Get out of my office,” she snarled.

  He turned and pushed past Triston, slamming the door behind him, walls quivering in response.

  Shannon lifted her eyes to meet Triston. “Thank you.”

  He rushed to her, held Shannon tight. “I would have hurt him.”

  Shannon shook her head. “It wouldn’t have done any good, and I would have called the police.”

  Triston leaned backward, forearms resting on her shoulders, wrists crossed behind her head. “You amaze me, you know that? Barbed wire and steel beams. You are stronger than I can ever hope to be.”

  She reached up and ran a finger down his jawline. “Not strong. Just done.”

  “You underestimate yourself. Staying was strong, leaving is strong, standing toe to toe with that … with him, that’s strong. I almost feel like I don’t have to defend you.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Every woman needs a knight riding up on a great steed to defend her honor.”

  “Does that mean you’ll finally be mine now? You’re getting that divorce?”

  She smiled. “I’ll get the divorce, and then I’ll be yours. Make sure you have the order right.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I was kind of hoping you already were.”

  “I was kind of thinking you knew where I stood.”

  He hugged her, whispering in an ear, “Right now I know where you stand, and feeling you in my arms, it’s right where I want to keep you.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Shannon sat in the car outside the lawyer’s office, her copy of the petition for divorce resting in the passenger’s seat. She stared out the window, lost to the people passing, and traffic appearing and disappearing behind a line of trees which crossed the property where Richards & Collins Law offices occupied. The meeting had gone about how she expected. She told the attorney why she couldn’t reconcile, stated an estimated summary of assets, and drew up the necessary documents Greg would be served with the next day by private messenger. Her attorney, Mr. Collins, believed they had a strong case, but nonetheless, there would be a lot of dividing of property. The thought didn’t bother Shannon, she expected it. What she didn’t see coming was the lawyer’s cautionary statement regarding the Grande Marquis - it wasn’t untouchable.

  Hands tightened around the steering until the knuckles faded to white. Greg didn’t want the hotel, she knew that, but after their last standoff, she wasn’t equally confident he wouldn’t fight for it anyway, just out of plain, ugly anger.

  Shannon sighed as she glanced at the manila envelope. She could lose the hotel. She never thought about that before, never imagined it could be a possibility. The hollow threat Greg made seemed just that, hollow and meaningless. But now, everything she sweated over and built with such loving care, could be taken away.

  It was up to Greg and how nasty he wanted to get.

  She shook her head. He didn’t care about the hotel. Never did. He wouldn’t take it from her now, when there was no reason to. It wouldn’t do him any good, and he wouldn’t be that cold-hearted.

  Unless it was sold off as an asset.

  She pushed the haunting thought out of her mind. He had enough assets on his own, his family even more. Taking the one thing she laid claim to, he couldn’t possibly do that after all he had done already. Even Greg wouldn’t be that cruel.

  *

  Shannon returned to a message blinking on her phone, and, listening to voicemail, felt her stomach quiver. Megan Savoe hadn’t contacted her since the last conversation, and Shannon suspected the request for a call back meant a decision had been reached regarding the following year’s banquet. Only now, the stakes were higher. Lost business was bad enough during a course of stability. A loss in profits wouldn’t fare well in court as she battled to keep her professional baby.

  Her fingers dialed the number while her mind prayed. Megan picked up the line on the first ring.

  “Hello, Ms. Winters. I won’t keep you, but I did want to let you know my bosses have decided to hold the banquet there at the Grande next year. Our clients are very happy with your level of service and the hotel’s accommodations, despite the circumstances of last week’s event.”

  “Thank you, Megan. We will not disappoint again.”

  “I’m sure of that, Ms. Winters.”

  Shannon hung up, adrenaline pulsing through her veins. It didn’t solve the bigger picture, but did reflect well on her skills as owner and manager. That would have to count for something in court, if it was needed.

  Gazing at the event calendar on her computer, Shannon only hoped it counted enough.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The check-out line was long, even for a Sunday. Luggage sat in nearly every corner of the lobby, kids crying while darting back and forth, bellmen running in and out to service valet parking. Shannon settled in at the front desk computer next to Rebekkah, helping the overwhelmed teenager in handing out final copies of bills, thanking guests, making future reservations, scurrying from guest to guest.

  “Shannon!” Greg’s voice boomed over the crowd, and everyone turned around to stare at the still drunken man waving divorce papers in his hand like the Sunday Morning newspaper.

  Heat rushed up her neck and burnt her face a cherry red.

  “It’s okay, Ms. Winters. I can take it from here.”

  “Are you sure, Rebekkah?”

  “Shannon!”

  She watched in horror as every guest’s eyes turned in her direction.

  “It’s okay, Ms. Winters. Take care of your husband.”

  She patted Rebekkah on the shoulder, and walked back to her office, knowing he would barge through the door in a moment.

  As it flung open and bounced off the back wall, Greg stormed in, face flushed with anger, eyes still unfocused from the liquor bathed on rumpled clothes, swallowing the room in its stench.

  “You serve me? You think you can serve me this trash,” he waved the papers in the air, rattl
ing them in his madness. “You’re not going to do this, not to me, and get away with it, do you understand me?’

  “Don’t threaten me, Greg. You did this, remember? With all of your lies and Hollywood acting. What did you think would happen?”

  He threw the papers across the desk, scattering them everywhere, then plunged his palms against the wood, and leaned towards her. “I’m the one with all the money, honey. I have all the friends and family, all the power. You’re no one. That little boy toy of yours can’t protect you from all the heartaches and headaches I’m going to throw at you, baby.”

  Shannon stood up, the fire in her stomach erupting. “Do not call me baby. I am not your anything anymore. You’ve slept with everyone from here to the Jersey Shore, and if you think for one minute that I am going to back down, you have another thing coming.”

  Greg laughed, and something stirred inside Shannon. There was no love, no concern, no anything between them. “You disgust me,” she growled.

  His fist shot out so hard and so fast, she never saw it coming. A clouded white light exploded in her left eye, the impact jackknifing her neck back and then forward. Shannon slumped into the chair, hand blanketing the eye he punched, other eye wide in startled surprise. Her voice locked in her throat. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t yell, couldn’t cry. She only watched as he began pacing the room, jaw set hard as stone.

  He stopped cold, turning to her with darkness shadowing his every feature. “Don’t get too comfortable in that chair, babe. And start packing things up. If you’re going to leave me, I’m going to take what you care about the most. Expect a For Sale sign in the front lawn here very, very, soon.”

  Her single eye glowered at him, voice distant and emotionless. “Get out of my office, Greg. And don’t come back. You can expect a restraining order to go along with that petition for divorce.”

  He raised a hand once again, this time hesitating long enough for her fingers to find their way to the speaker phone, punching the first number for 911. “Do I need to finish dialing?”