If only I was prettier.

If only I was thinner.

If only someone loved me.

Landon

I press the bench bar above my head again and again. Its punishing weight not taking my mind off the brown-haired beauty upstairs. Her soft gasps play through my mind on repeat. I wanted to pound into her so fast and hard but forced myself to hold back. She is a wee little lassie, barely reaching 5'4" and 120 pounds soaking wet, if that. The thought of her slight frame fills me with fury. I would never have chosen a wife so small. I like my women to have something substantial to them. Not that Brooke did not have curves because, believe me, she does. Very tempting curves that drive a man to his knees. But she had this fragile quality about her, like if I was too hard or rough with her, she would shatter.

That thought spikes my anger even more, and I pick up my pace. As much as I want to go back upstairs and do what we just did all over again, only this time with a lot more…sound, and a lot more…exploration, I will not. I will not give Connor Robinson the satisfaction. He may have arranged that his only child married to one of the wealthiest men in America, he would not gain a thing from it. Any information he hopes to get from me through his daughter is blocked. I do not confide in her, do not share any of my business with her. I isolate her completely. I may be stuck in this marriage until I produce an heir, but I will be damned if I let it affect any aspect of my life. I will take down Connor’s company, and a brown-eyed lass is not going to stand in my way, even if she is my wife.

CHAPTER 3

House Guests

Brooke

I wince when the nurse puts in the IV. It hurts every time.

“And how are we feeling this morning?” Dr. Goodmin asks in a chipper voice.

“Fine,” I lie. I feel like shit. Have for the last two days. Throwing up constantly, dizzy, and racked with hot and cold flashes. Ugh, dialysis sucks.

“Now, don’t lie to me, little lady,” Goodmin chides. “Your chart says you’ve been throwing up excessively the last few days.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I mumble feeling foggy.

He grunts. “Have you been taking your medication?”

“Daily as prescribed.”

“Huh, your chart shows your hormone levels are a little high.” He rubs his jaw in thought. “Well, how about we do an extra hour on the dialysis machine today, and I put in a new prescription at the pharmacy for you. See if we can’t get you back to normal range.” He smiles at me and I nod even though new medication and extra time here is the last thing I want.

It has been two weeks since Landon left, and he is scheduled to return home today. I am anxious about his return when I am feeling so sick. Not that I think he would notice, but I would not want to raise suspicion. Getting home, I head upstairs for a shower. I scrub away the horrid hospital smell. I dress in a long sleeve to cover up the bruises the IV always leaves, then lay down on the bed for a minute. As my eyes drift close, I tell myself to get up, that Landon will be home soon, and I should probably comb my long brown hair before it becomes a wavy mess. But my energy was depleted by the shower, and I succumb to sleep.