Page 41 of The Bad Husband

I get hotter and hotter just thinking about it.

So, let me see if I got this right.

What if he wants me to do something stupid, leave, spend the summer in Brooklyn, and never come back?

What if they call the lawyer and tell him I have left?

They get the money. I get nothing.

She must be the brain behind all this.

Who does that type of thing anyway? Well, people have done worse things for way less.

What if her husband seduces me and I never leave? What can happen if I do that?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

They can’t touch me. I need to be alive and well for her to get her money a year from now.

They’ll need to wait so they can get what’s theirs––I mean hers.

In this scenario, based on what I’ve seen so far, he could be a problem.

He’ll be creative, driving me crazy, and he’ll do more than make me come in his lap or try to compel me to do stuff I normally wouldn’t do.

He could fuck with my brain in every way imaginable. And she will be part of it. What kind of vile people are these two?

What if they’re trying to derail me, make me act unlike me so I can lose my money in the end?

But what if I’m wrong, and there’s a third possibility, meaning none of this is what it seems.

That he’s not her accomplice, and this isn’t about the money.

This possibility scares me the most.

So, let’s stick to the idea that he’s trying to seduce me for a nefarious reason.

I could fight him off, or not––see where this is taking us.

Interesting night, and absolutely scary thought.

With that in mind, I slowly walk toward the house, and I enter the hallway leading to the kitchen a little later.

LILA

Sighing, I chew on my burger.

It’s absolutely delicious, not to mention that all those things happening tonight have made me work up an appetite.

Perched on a barstool, with my elbows resting on the kitchen island, I stare at the pool through the glass doors when a loud noise explodes next to me.

“Where were you?” Henrietta barks behind me, her house keys clinking against the smooth counter.

I choke on my food and cough. Other than sliding my glass of water close to me, she does nothing else.

I get a glimpse of her frown as I cough continuously before I sip water and finally breathe properly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You scared me,” I say, tilting my eyes down, and trying to understand why I didn’t hear her.