Power Play (Crimson Romance) by Nan Comargue

the crap. I don’t believe you love him. He cheated on you. While he was keeping you sweet and pampered in his big house, he was fucking around behind your back. Tell me you love him still. Tell me.”
    The force of his anger hit her full in the face and she backed down from the humiliation of answering him in the way she needed to, admitting that she loved a man who could shame and disrespect her on a constant basis.
    “He loves me,” she said instead, “despite what he did and I need to give the marriage another try.”
    Dark eyes searched her face before jerking away. “Then you probably deserve the marriage you’re in. Wallace is a cold, manipulative bastard, but he’s got you right where he wants you and for some reason you’re willing to make the same mistake twice. Just remember that I won’t be waiting the next time he hurts you, ready to pick up the broken pieces.”
    Now she had nothing left. No marriage once the contract was over and no boyfriend.
    “I won’t need you to do that, Jack. You have to trust me that I know what I want finally.”
    He downed the rest of his beer in a gulp. “I don’t know about what you want, but you’re sure getting what you deserve.”
    Lila’s patience was wearing thin.
    “That’s my decision, isn’t it?”
    Jack eyed her darkly. “You heartless bitch. I see right through your lies, just as I see right through your motives. I was never rich enough or successful enough.”
    Lila jumped to her feet at the first epithet and struggling into her coat couldn’t help but hear the rest of his venom.
    “You don’t know the first thing about this situation,” she told him in a low voice, “but you don’t care to understand, do you? You only know that you’re hurt and you want to hurt someone in return. Well, I’m not going to be your target.”
    “Sit down, Lila.”
    The belligerent command no longer worked and she was out of the booth and halfway across the restaurant before he had pulled out his wallet to settle the bill. A taxi was fortunately waiting outside of the door and she hopped into it with a confused order to take her to the apartment. She wanted to be in the safety of closed walls before she gave way to tears and disillusionment was always upsetting.
    The future was growing bleaker by the day.

Chapter Seven
    November days were cold even when the sun shone, and Lila traveled to and from work in darkness. Home life was depressingly repetitive. Rarely did she see Cahal although signs of his movements were evident in the debris he left. The condo suggested an intimacy that was impossible to form with inanimate objects.
    The rambling Chicago house had allowed her to forget her husband’s existence for days at a time. Out of the house and out of the city meant the same thing. The coach had believed in preserving his players’ energy during stressful periods such as championship series and he often ordered the team to check into a hotel for several weeks even during home stretches.
    The telephone rang with regularity.
    “Hello, darling.”
    She suspected the phone line was tapped; otherwise his endearments were pointless.
    “What do you want?” In the absence of an audience she didn’t try to pretend.
    Deep laughter rumbled in her ear. “Such affection.”
    Eyes fixed on the television she turned on for company in the evenings, Lila resisted the urge to throw the phone at the enormous screen.
    “I’m not here to stroke your ego,” she told him.
    Cahal laughed again. “That’s not the part that needs stroking.”
    As satisfying as it was to slam the phone down on his amused voice, she was forced to pick it up a moment later when his cell phone number displayed. This time he didn’t bother with a greeting.
    “This isn’t a joke, Lila.”
    “Don’t I know it,” she sighed.
    In the following silence, she could almost hear him counting to ten and probably swearing to himself. When he spoke, he sounded very calm and level.
    “What are you