SWNOVELS Pucking Wild: Chapter 9
“Tess!” Troy calls. “Stop walking—”
“Just go away,” I cry as I hurry my way across the atrium.
“We need to talk—”
“Fuck you,” I say, still not slowing.
The Katies sit in shocked silence as I march up to the elevator and slam my thumb against the up arrow.
“Come on,” I whimper, watching the lights flash along the top.
Troy sweeps in behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “Tess—”
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, spinning to break our contact.
He drops his hand to his side. “You’re being so irrational right now. I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you—”
“Irrational?” I cry, eyes wide. “My career is on the line because you got your fucking feelings hurt!”
“This isn’t about me, Tess—”
“Everything is about you!”
Behind me, the elevator doors open with a ding. I spin away from him and step inside. Of course, he follows. I jab my thumb on the number nine and then pepper the ‘door close’ button.
“You only need to press it once,” Troy says from my shoulder.
“Shut up.”
“Pressing it again does nothing—”
“Oh my god, you have to shut up,” I cry as the doors slide shut. “Please, for once, just fucking shut up so I can hear myself fucking think!”
“God, you’re a mess,” he mutters. “I think this leave of absence is coming at just the right time for you.”
I spin around, taking him in. He’s always been handsome—dark eyes, chiseled cheek bones for days. He oozes wealth and sophistication. At 6’2”, he’s a big guy too. Working out became his obsession the summer before he turned thirty. Now he fills out his suit with those broad shoulders and that well-muscled chest.
But his beauty no longer distracts me the way it once did. Now I see it for what it is: vanity, insecurity. He works so hard to keep his body in shape because he wants other women to find him desirable and men to find him enviable.
And I know there’s been so many other women.
Puffing out my chest, I hold his gaze. “Troy, we’re done. I want a divorce.”
His eyes go wide as the elevator halts and dings, the doors sliding open. I dart out, praying the doors crush him as they close. But I’m not that lucky.
“Tess!”
I launch across the ninth-floor lobby, hurrying towards my office suite. Wrenching the door open, I charge forward, ignoring the surprised looks of the secretaries. I see Rhonda’s empty desk and my heart sinks. She’s still in her meeting, meaning I have no buffer. It’s about to be David versus Goliath, and I left my slingshot in my other pencil skirt.
“Tess! Goddamn it, will you just talk to me?” Troy shouts.
I jerk open my office door, desperate to put a wall between us and the secretaries before he tears into me. I can’t bear to let other people see me cry, and I don’t think I can hold these angry tears back much longer.
Slamming my tablet and coffee down, my chest heaves as I pant for breath. I look down at my hands splayed against the dark, polished wood of my executive desk. I can feel Troy sucking up all the air behind me as my office door clicks shut. The asshole has the audacity to turn the lock. The sound echoes in my chest, like the bars of a jail cell latching closed.
I spin around. “Unlock the door, Troy.”
“I don’t want us to be disturbed,” he counters, dark eyes narrowed at me.
“And I don’t want to feel trapped in here with you. Unlock the fucking door before I scream.”
“God, you’re paranoid,” he huffs. But he unlocks the door. “There, are you happy? Will you stop being crazy now and just talk to me?”
“I want a divorce,” I repeat.
“No.”
“Troy—”
“Tess, no. I’m not going to let you make this decision right now. You’re too emotional—”
“You’re damn right, I’m emotional! This was you, wasn’t it? You found those photos and took them to Dale, complaining about this morality clause bullshit—”
He’s shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. This is about the integrity of PFH—”
“Oh, don’t you fucking dare,” I cry. “This is about your ego and nothing else. What I want to know is why now? Why these photos? Surely you have better evidence—”
“That’s right, I do,” he says, stepping into my space. “I’ve got enough evidence of your affairs to end you. Out of the goodness of my heart, I was the bigger fucking person and I kept quiet.”
I take a deep breath, trying to find my calm. “You know, when everything first fell apart, I wanted a divorce. But your mother encouraged us to take it slow, to work on finding a fix. I agreed to counseling. It was only when I learned that you were still fucking the secretaries that I walked out.”
He scoffs, turning away.
“But then your mother came to me again and asked me to consider a trial separation,” I go on. I know he knows all this, but he likes to conveniently forget the important details. “She asked me to keep it quiet for the sake of the company, for the sake of the family. I agreed. I’d do anything for her, Troy. You know that. And it didn’t seem important to dissolve a paper marriage as long as you were behaving—”
He spins around. “Behaving? Jesus, I’m not some naughty child, Tess. I’m a grown ass man.”
“I thought we had both moved on,” I press, taking a step closer. “This was business only. It appeased your mother and helped her save face with her friends. All our mutuals know it’s over. And we were both seeing other people—”
“I kept my affairs quiet,” he shouts. “That’s the difference here, Tess. Meanwhile, you’re splashing yours across page six, making me look like the asshole of the century.”
“I told you it was nothing—”
“Yeah, like I believe that,” he scoffs.
Righteous indignation surges through me. “I’ve never lied to you, Troy. That’s your M.O.”
He glares at me, daggering me with his eyes.
After a tense moment, I let out a tired sigh. “Just give me a divorce, Troy. It’s time—”
“No. We’re not there yet.” He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna let you do this to us.”
“We are so there! We’re right fucking there. Troy, this isn’t a marriage anymore. It’s a hostage crisis!”
“God, you are so overdramatic! I can’t believe I thought I could have a calm, rational conversation with you about this. You’re chaotic—”
“And you’re transparent,” I counter. “You think I don’t know what this is about—”
“This is about you being a frigid workaholic. You pushed me away, Tess. You gave up on us, and you blame me for seeking comfort in someone else’s arms? I couldn’t live in the shadow of your indifference. You never put me first. So yes, I put me first, Tess,” he shouts, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “Someone had to.”
His words hit me like a slap, and I reel back. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“It’s true, and you know it,” he replies. “Even if you won’t ever admit it.”
“I did put you first, Troy. I always only ever put you first. I sacrificed everything for you—”
“And what did that earn me except your shitty resentment?” he says, leveling a finger in my face.
I lean away, eyes wide. I’m trapped between him and the desk, the edge of it biting into the curve of my hip.
“You don’t get to play the martyr and make me the villain,” he says. “I didn’t ask you to pick my law school or work for my family firm or fucking smother me—”
“Well, did I smother you, or was I indifferent?” I challenge.
He turns away, cursing under his breath.
“You can’t have it both ways, Troy,” I call at his back. “Did I put you first or last? Or do you even know? Did you even notice me until I was gone? No, you were too busy with your golf weekends and your client dinners and your girlfriends—”
“Don’t turn this around on me. You always do that. You spin my words and make me the asshole. I’m not the asshole, Tess. I’m not the cheater—”
“You cheated, Troy. You were married to me and fucking other people without my knowledge or consent. That makes you the literal definition of a cheater.” It’s my tone that surprises me. So detached.
I’m numb.
Broken.
Done.
“Christ, I’ll never be enough for you, will I?” he says. “I’m always the disappointment. Always coming up short. You never respected me, Tess. Never loved me like I deserved.”
I close my eyes, trying to shut out his words. I can’t bear this feeling of being trapped in his presence, accepting his gaslighting revisionism of our entire ten-year relationship. “Please, just let me go,” I whisper. “Troy, please. I want a divorce.”
“And now you want to quit. Yeah, things are tough right now. But you know what? That’s real life, Tess. We’ve got problems to work through. But now you’re suddenly just done? I guess I don’t know what else I expected. Go ahead and run. That’s what you do best.” He points at the door, dismissing me from my own office. But I’m not sure if it’s a trick. I wouldn’t put it past him to chase me out and continue to make a scene in front of our colleagues.
“Are we really done here?”
He just glares at me.
“If we’re done, can you please leave?”
“You’re the one taking a leave of absence,” he needles. “Not me.”
Of course, he’s not taking a leave of absence. Because he gets to walk through life without ever feeling the negative consequences of his actions. Impervious to blame, immune to criticism. No, consequences are reserved for lesser mortals.
Mortals like me.
Holding the frayed strands of my dignity together, I turn away from him, slipping my tablet into my bag.
“Wait,” he says, his voice suddenly softer. He steps forward, his hand brushing my shoulder, and I go stiff. “Fuck, seriously?” He drops his hand away. “I can’t even fucking touch you without you flinching away? Am I such a monster to you now?”
He’s right up in my space, his large body inches from mine. He overwhelms me, the spicy scent of his aftershave mixed with his cologne. I know it so well. That scent signature is burrowed deep in my psyche. So masculine…
The connection has me sucking in a sharp breath as I piece it together.
Of course.
“It’s because he’s a man,” I say, not turning around. “Isn’t it?”
He goes still. “What are you talking about?”
Slowly I turn, my breast brushing his arm in our closeness. I gaze up at him, my hand clutching tight to the leather handle of my bag. “You’re torching my life now because Ryan Langley is a threat to your fragile masculinity. Hot young NHL star with stamina for days, making his millions, flashing that handsome smile—”
“There’s nothing fragile about my masculinity,” he snarls. “And I don’t care who you fuck.” He says the words, but his eyes give him away. There’s a fire there, embers burning hot. He’s jealous. He doesn’t want me; he’s made that crystal clear. It was clear even when we were still fucking. We were both so physically and emotionally checked out by the end.
Troy doesn’t want me. But he doesn’t want another man to have me either.
“I’ve had a string of lovers since we split,” I say. “You know about them all. Erica practically lived with me for half of last year. But since you, all my lovers have been women. You can dismiss a woman. She’s not a threat to you or your reputation. But one picture of me with Ryan, and now you’re setting my life on fire. Finally, you have some real competition…and an excuse to torch me.”
“You’re delusional. And you’re an utterly forgettable lay. I bet he struggled to get off. I know I always did.”
His cruel words can’t hurt me. I’m completely detached from my body, floating in space and time. And if my life is already up in smoke, why not fan the flames a little?
I nod, lips pursed. “Well…he didn’t seem to complain when I was deep throating him on my knees, choking on his cum. His dick is huge, by the way. My pussy still feels wrecked, and it’s been a week—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, his hand going to my throat.
My hand rises on instinct, wrapping around his wrist. Tears sting my eyes as he squeezes. “Troy—”
He presses me back against the desk. “Don’t say another word, you filthy fucking whore,” he orders, his lips almost brushing mine in his closeness. “I gave you everything. I pulled you up out of the gutter and gave you this life that you take for granted. You don’t deserve my love!”
I breathe through the pressure, holding his gaze. Slowly, I give his hand a squeeze. “Troy…”
“I said shut up! You make me fucking crazy when you won’t just shut up and listen to me!”
“Troy…honey, you’re choking me,” I rasp, a tear slipping down my cheek.
Slowly, I see the anger recede in his eyes as he traces a line down his own arm, ending at the hand on my throat. With a groan, he drops his hand away and steps back.
I gasp, holding in a sob as I grip to the desk, hand massaging my throat.
Don’t panic, I tell myself. Don’t let him see you panic.
Another tear falls as I watch him pace two steps back.
“Fuck, do you see how crazy you make me? You think I don’t love you, but this is what you do to me, Tess. You make me feel like a fucking monster, and I hate it.”
“This isn’t love, Troy.” I massage my throat, praying he didn’t leave a mark. “You don’t love me…and I don’t love you.”
“You can’t tell me how I feel—”
“This is possession,” I press, dropping my hand back to my side. “All we do is hurt each other, and it has to stop. We gave your mother her way, but enough is enough. Let me write up the papers. All you have to do is sign, and you can finally be free of me. Please, Troy—”
“God—fuck—just stop pushing,” he cries. “You know this isn’t easy for me, Tess. I’m not a quitter. I don’t lose. I—fuck, you just had to go embarrass me in front of the whole fucking world.” He steps into my space, and I hold my ground, not letting him see how scared I am, how much I want him to just leave.
“I bet you wanted those photos taken,” he says, his face inches from mine. “I bet you posed for them. You wanted to twist the fucking knife in my heart!” He pounds on his chest with his balled fist. The sound sparks panic as I imagine that fist pounding against me instead.
“I didn’t, Troy. I swear to you—”
“I don’t know how we repair this damage,” he says over me. “I don’t know how you think you come back from this,” he adds, gesturing around my office.
I go still, my heartbeat frozen in my chest. “A divorce would solve everything. We dissolve the marriage and ride out the gossip. This isn’t the Middle Ages, Troy. Divorce happens all the time,” I soothe, placing my hand on his arm. “People will move on—”
“I don’t care about other people,” he says angrily, shrugging away from my touch. “I care about you and me. Us. How do I work with you after this? There’s no escaping your judgmental looks or your shitty, hurt expressions. I can’t just let you drag me down and paint me as your cheating ex-husband.”
“Troy, I would never do that. I’m a professional—”
“You’re already doing it,” he counters. “Every day you waltz in here, totally unaffected by our separation. It’s so easy for you to make a mockery of me, and I can’t have that. I’m rising up the ladder here, taking on more responsibility every day. Soon I’ll be full partner.”
I lean away, eyes wide. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this is bigger than you and me. It’s careers and reputations.”
I put the pieces of his threat together. “So, you’re saying I stay married to you to protect your reputation…or you’ll have me fired? You’ll end the career I spent a decade building over a few grainy cellphone photos?”
“I’m saying you need to think about what matters most to you,” he counters, slipping his hands in his pockets. “You’ve got a reputation, too, you know. I’d hate to see you make an irrational choice. You say I’m the one lighting the fire here, Tess, but that’s not true. You’re holding the match. You’ve got all the power right now, not me. What you do with it is up to you.”
He turns away from me and moves towards the door, ripping the air from my lungs.
I feel empty. Hollow.
“I’ll give you a few days to cool off and think everything over,” he says at me over his shoulder. “And don’t worry,” he adds, pulling my door open. “I won’t have security escort you out. I’m not the asshole you think I am, Tessy. But you should really go ahead and clear out of here before lunch…leave us to clean up your mess.”