JIMIN POV
I gape at the text then look
up at the sleeping form of my husband.
He's been out until one thirty in the morning drinking with her!
He snores softly, sleeping
the sleep of a seemingly innocent, oblivious drunk.
He looks so serene.
Oh no, no, no.
My legs turn to jelly and I sink slowly to the chair beside the
bed in disbelief.
Raw, bitter, humiliating
betrayal lances through me.
How could he?
How could he go to her?
Scalding, angry tears ooze
down my cheeks.
His wrath and fear, his need to lash out at me I can understand and forgive But this treachery
is too much.
I pull my knees up against my chest and wrap my arms
around them, protecting me
and protecting my Little Blip.
I rock to and fro, weeping softly.
What did I expect?
I married this man too quickly.
I knew it would come to this.
Why. Why. Why?
How could he do this to me?
He knows how I feel about
that woman.
How could he turn to her?
How?
The knife twists slowly and painfully deep in my heart, lacerating me.
Will it always be this way?
Through my tears, his prostrate figure blurs and shimmers.
I married him because I love
him and deep down I know that he loves me. I know he does.
His achingly sweet birthday present comes to mind.
For all our firsts on your first birthday as my beloved
husband, I love you. J x
No, no, no—I can't believe that
it will always be this way, two steps forward and three steps back but that's how it's always been with him.
After each set-back, we move forward, inch by inch.
He will come around . . .
he will.
But will I?
Will I recover from this . . .
from this treachery? I think about how he's been this last, horrible, wonderful weekend.
His quiet strength while my stepdad lay broken and
comatose in the ICU . . .
my surprise party, bringing my family and friends together . . .
dipping me down low outside
the Heathman and kissing me in full public view.
Oh, Jungkook, you strain all my trust, all my faith and I love you.
But it's not just me now.
I place my hand on my belly.
No, I will not let him do this to me and our Blip.
Dr. Flynn said I should give him the benefit of the doubt—well, not this time. I dash the tears from my eyes and wipe my
nose with the back of my hand.
Jungkook stirs and rolls over, pulling his legs up from the
side of the bed and curls up beneath the duvet.
He stretches out a hand as if searching for something, then grumbles and frowns but
settles back to sleep, his arm outstretched.
Oh, Fifty.
What am I going to do with you?
And what the hell were you
doing with the Bitch Troll?
I need to know.
I glance once more at the offending text and quickly
hatch a plan.
Taking a deep breath, I forward the text to my BlackBerry.
Step one complete.
I quickly check the other
recent texts but can only see messages from Hobi, Andrea, Taylor and me.
None from Elena.
Good, I think.
I exit the text screen, relieved that he hasn't been texting her and my heart lurches into my throat. Oh my.
The wallpaper on his phone is photograph upon photograph
of me, our honeymoon, our recent weekend sailing and soaring and a few of Joon's photos, too.
When did he do this?
It must have been recently.
I notice his e-mail icon and an idea slithers enticingly into my mind, I could read his e-mails. See if he's been talking to her.
Should I?
Before I can stop myself, I
invade his privacy.
There are hundreds and hundreds of e-mails.
I spin down through them, and they look dull as ditchwater . . .
mostly from Ros, Andrea and
me and various executives in
his company.
None from Bitch Troll.
While I'm at it, I'm relieved to see there are none from Leila either.
One e-mail catches my eye.
It's from Barney Sullivan, his
IT guy and the subject line is: Min Yoongi.
I glance guiltily at Jungkook
but he's still snoring gently.
I've never heard him snore.
I open the e-mail.
From: Barney Sullivan
Subject: Min Yoongi
Date: September 13, 2011 14:09
To: Jeon Jungkook
CCTV around Seattle tracks the white van from South Irving Street Before that I can find no trace, so Min must have been based in that area.
As Welch has told you the unsub car was rented with a false license by an unknown female, though nothing that ties it to
the South Irving Street area.
Details of known JEH and SIP employees who live in the area are in the attached file, which I have forwarded to Welch too.
There was nothing on Min's SIP computer about his former PAs.
As a reminder, here is a list of what was retrieved from
Min's SIP computer.
Jeon's Home Addresses:
Five properties in Seattle
Two properties in Detroit
Detailed Resumés for:
Jeon Carrick
Jeon Hobi
Jeon Jungkook
Dr. Jeon Grace
Jeon Jimin
Jeon Mia
Newspaper and online articles relating to:
Dr. Jeon Grace
Jeon Carrick
Jeon Jungkook
Jeon Hobi
Photographs:
Jeon Carrick
Dr. Jeon Grace
Jeon Jungkook
Jeon Hobi
Jeon Mia
I'll continue my investigation,
see what else I can find.
B Sullivan
Head of IT, JEH
This odd e-mail momentarily sidetracks me from my night
of woe.
I click on the attachment to check through the names on the list but it's obviously huge, too big to open on the BlackBerry.
What am I doing?
It's late. I've had a tiring day.
There are no e-mails from the Bitch Troll or Leila Williams and
I take some cold comfort from that.
I glance quickly at the alarm clock, it's just after two in the morning.
Today has been a day of revelations.
I am to be a mother and my husband has been fraternizing with the enemy.
Well, let him stew.
I am not sleeping here with him.
He can wake up alone tomorrow.
After placing his BlackBerry on the bedside table, I retrieve my purse from beside the bed
and after one last look at my angelic, sleeping Judas, I leave the bedroom.
The spare playroom key is
in its usual place in the cabinet
in the utility room.
I grab it and scoot upstairs.
From the linen closet, I
retrieve a pillow, duvet and sheet, then unlock the
playroom door and enter, switching the lights to dim.
Odd that I find the smell and ambience of this room so comforting, considering I safe worded the last time we were
in here.
I lock the door behind me, leaving the key in the lock.
I know that tomorrow morning He will be frantic to find me
and I don't think he'll look in here if the door's locked.
Well, it will serve him right.
I curl up on the Chesterfield couch, wrap myself in the duvet and drag my BlackBerry from
my purse.
Checking my texts, I find the
one from the evil Bitch Troll that I forwarded from his phone.
I press FORWARD and type:
*WOULD YOU LIKE MRS. LINCOLN TO JOIN US WHEN
WE EVENTUALLY DISCUSS
THIS TEXT SHE SENT TO YOU?*
*IT WILL SAVE YOU RUNNING
TO HER AFTERWARD.*
"YOUR HUSBAND*
I press SEND and switch the volume to mute.
I huddle under my duvet.
For all my bravado, I'm overwhelmed by the enormity
of his deceit.
This should be a happy time.
Jeez, we're going to be parents.
Briefly, I relive telling Jungkook that I'm pregnant and fantasize that he falls to his knees with
joy in front of me, pulling me into his arms and telling me
how much he loves me and our Little Blip.
Yet here I am, alone and cold in a BDSM fantasy playroom.
Suddenly I feel old, older than my years.
Taking on Jungkook was always going to be a challenge but he really has surpassed himself
this time.
What was he thinking?
Well, if he wants a fight, I'll
give him a fight.
No way am I going to let him
get away with running off to see that monstrous woman
whenever we have a problem.
He's going to have to choose—her or me and our Little Blip.
I sniffle softly but because I'm
so exhausted, I soon fall asleep.
I wake with a start,
momentarily disorientated . . .
Oh yes—I'm in the playroom.
Because there are no windows,
I have no idea what time it is.
The door handle rattles.
"Jimin." Jungkook shouts
from outside the door.
I freeze but he doesn't come in.
I hear muffled voices but they move away, I exhale and check the time on my BlackBerry.
It's seven fifty and I have four missed calls and two voice messages.
The missed calls are mostly
from Jungkook but there's also one from Tae.
Oh, no.
He must have called him.
I don't have time to listen to them.
I don't want to be late for work.
I wrap the duvet around me
and pick up my purse before making my way to the door.
Unlocking it slowly, I peek outside. No sign of anyone.
Oh shit . . .
Perhaps this is a bit melodramatic.
I roll my eyes at myself, take a deep breath and head downstairs.
Taylor, Sawyer, Ryan, Mrs.
Jones and Jungkook are all standing in the entrance to the great room and Jungkook is issuing rapid-fire instructions.
As one they all turn and gape
at me, Jungkook is still wearing the clothes he slept in last night.
He looks disheveled, pale and heart-stoppingly beautiful.
His large eyes are wide and I don't know if he's fearful or angry. It's difficult to tell.
"Sawyer, I'll be ready to leave
in about twenty minutes." I mutter, wrapping the duvet tighter around me for protection.
He nods and all eyes turn to Jungkook, who is still staring intensely at me.
"Would you like some
breakfast, Mr Jeon?" Mrs.
Jones asks.
I shake my head.
"I'm not hungry, thank you."
She purses her lips but says nothing.
"Where were you?" He asks,
his voice low and husky.
Suddenly Sawyer, Taylor,
Ryan and Mrs. Jones scatter, scurrying into Taylor's office,
into the foyer, and into the kitchen like terrified rats from
a sinking ship.
I ignore Jungkook and march toward our bedroom.
"Hey." he calls after me.
"Answer me."
I hear his footsteps behind me
as I walk into the bedroom and continue into our bathroom.
Quickly, I lock the door.
"Jimin." He pounds on the door.
I turn on the shower.
The door rattles.
"Jimin, open the damned door."
"Go away."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Suit yourself."
"Baby, please."
I climb into the shower, effectively blocking him out.
Oh, it's warm.
The healing water cascades
over me, cleansing the exhaustion of the night off
my skin.
Oh my. This feels so good.
For a moment, for one short moment, I can pretend all is well.
I wash my hair and by the time I've finished, I feel better, stronger, ready to face the freight train that is Jungkook.
I wrap my hair in a towel,
briskly dry myself with another towel and wrap it around me.
I unlock the door and open it
and find Jungkook is leaning against the wall opposite, his hands behind his back.
His expression is wary, that of
a hunted predator.
I stride past him and into our walk-in closet.
"Are you ignoring me?" He
asks in disbelief as he stands
on the threshold of the closet.
"Perceptive, aren't you?" I murmur absentmindedly as I search for something to wear.
Ah, yes—my plum dress.
I slide it off the hanger, choose my high black stiletto boots and head for the bedroom.
I pause for Jungkook to step
out of my way, which he does, eventually—his intrinsic good manners taking over.
I sense his eyes boring into
me as I walk over to my chest
of drawers and I peek at him in the mirror, standing motionless
in the doorway, watching me.
In an act worthy of an Oscar winner, I let my towel fall to the floor and pretend that I am oblivious to my naked body.
I hear his restrained gasp
and ignore it.
"Why are you doing this?" he asks. His voice is low.
"Why do you think?"
My voice is velvet soft as I
pull out a pretty pair of black lace La Perla panties.
"Jimin—" He stops as I
shimmy into them.
"Go ask your Mrs. Robinson."
"I'm sure she'll have an explanation for you." I mutter.
"Jimin, I've told you
before, she's not my—"
"I don't want to hear it." I wave my hand dismissively.
"The time for talking was yesterday but instead you decided to rant and get drunk with the woman who abused
you for years. Give her a call."
"I am sure she'll be more than willing to listen to you now."
He walks further into the bedroom and places his hands
on his hips.
"Why were you snooping on me?" he says.
In spite of my resolve I flush.
"That's not the point." I snap
at him.
"Fact is, going gets tough and you run to her."
His mouth settles into a grim line. "It wasn't like that."
"I'm not interested." Picking a pair of black thigh-highs with lacey tops, I retreat to the bed.
I sit, point my toe and gently ease the gossamer material up
to my thigh.
"Where were you?" he asks,
his eyes following my hands up my legs but I continue to ignore him as I slowly roll on the other stocking.
Standing, I bend to towel-dry
my hair.
Through my parted thighs, I
can see his bare feet and I
sense his intense gaze.
When I've finished, I stand
and step back to the chest of drawers where I grab my hairdryer.
"Answer me." Jungkook's
voice is low and husky.
I switch on the hairdryer so I
can no longer hear him and watch him through my lashes
in the mirror as I finger dry
my hair.
He glares at me, eyes narrow and cool, chilling even.
I look away, focusing on the
task at hand and trying to suppress the shiver that runs through me.
I swallow hard and concentrate on drying my hair.
He's still mad.
He goes out with that damned woman, and he's mad at me?
How dare he!
When my hair looks wild and untamed, I stop.
Yes . . . I like it.
I switch off the hairdryer.
"Where were you?" he whispers, his tone arctic.
"What do you care?"
"Jimin, stop this. Now."
I shrug and He moves quickly across the room toward me.
I whirl around stepping back
as he reaches out.
"Don't touch me." I hiss and
he freezes.
"Where were you?" he demands.
His hands fist at his side.
"I wasn't out getting drunk
with my ex." I seethe.
"Did you sleep with her?"
He gasps.
"What? No!"
He gapes at me and has the
gall to look wounded and
angry at the same time.
My subconscious breathes a small, welcome sigh of relief.
"You think I'd cheat on you?"
His tone is one of moral outrage.
"You did." I snarl.
"By taking our very private
life and spilling your spineless guts to that woman."
His mouth drops open.
"Spineless."
"That's what you think?" His
eyes blaze.
"Jungkook, I saw the text."
"That's what I know."
"That text was not meant for you." he growls.
"Well, fact is I saw it when
your BlackBerry fell out of your jacket while I was undressing you because you were too
drunk to undress yourself."
"Do you have any idea how
much you've hurt me by
going to see that woman?"
He pales momentarily but
I'm on a roll, my inner bitch unleashed.
"Do you remember last night when you came home?"
"Remember what you said?"
He stares at me blankly, his
face frozen.
"Well, you were right."
"I do choose this defenseless baby over you."
"That's what any loving parent does, That's what your mother should have done for you."
"And I am sorry that she
didn't because we wouldn't be having this conversation right now if she had."
"But you're an adult now, you need to grow up and smell the fucking coffee and stop behaving like a petulant adolescent."
"You may not be happy
about this baby."
"I'm not ecstatic, given the timing and your less-than-lukewarm reception to this new life, this flesh of your flesh."
"But you can either do this
with me or I'll do it on my own."
"The decision is yours."
"While you wallow in your pit
of self-pity and self-loathing,
I'm going to work and when I return I'll be moving my belongings to the room upstairs."
He blinks at me, shocked.
"Now, if you'll excuse me."
"I'd like to finish getting dressed." I am breathing hard.
Very slowly, he retreats one
step, his demeanor hardening.
"Is that what you want?" he whispers.
"I don't know what I want
any more."
My tone mirrors his and it takes a monumental effort to feign disinterest while I casually dip the tips of my fingers into my moisturizer and smooth it
gently over my face.
I peer at myself in the mirror.
Blue eyes wide, face pale
but cheeks flushed.
You're doing great.
Don't back down now.
Don't back down now.
"You don't want me?" he whispers.
Oh—no . . . oh no you don't, Jeon.
"I'm still here aren't I?" I snap.
Taking my mascara, I apply
some first to my right eye.
"You've thought about leaving?"
His words are barely audible.
"When one's husband prefers
the company of his ex-mistress, it's usually not a good sign."
I pitch the disdain at just the right level, evading his question.
Lip gloss now.
I pout my shiny lips at the
image in the mirror.
Stay strong, Park. . . um—Jeon.
Holy fuck, I can't even
remember my name.
I pick up my boots, stride over
to the bed once more and
quickly put them on, tugging them up over my knees.
Yep. I look hot just in
underwear and boots. I know.
Standing, I gaze
dis-passionately at him.
He blinks at me and his eyes travel swiftly and greedily
down my body.
"I know what you're doing
here." he murmurs and his
voice has acquired a warm, seductive edge.
"Do you?"
And my voice cracks .
He swallows and takes a step forward, I step back and hold
my hands up.
"Don't even think about it,
Jeon." I whisper menacingly.