He hesitated, his stare taking her in. She wished she could see warmth in his blue eyes—something that made his strict care seem like the safety net it once had. Now it just felt like a blade he held at her throat.

Finally, he stepped back, reaching behind him to grab a fluffy white robe on a coat rack she hadn’t noticed. It was too small for him, and it made Gia wonder if he kept it here for his overnight conquests. She tried not to weep at the thought as he slipped it over her shoulders and she rushed to belt it around her waist.

“Go upstairs,” he demanded. “At the end of the hall, you’ll find our bedroom and someone waiting for you. I’ll be up soon.”

Someone? He wasn’t coming up to push her into bed right this second? Or had he arranged for another person to do his bondage dirty work first? She frowned.

Annoyance tightened his lips. “Problem?”

Whatever awaited her upstairs would allow her precious time to confront her feelings and get them under control. She’d been terrified out of her mind on the job once or twice. She’d buckled down, pushed through, and taken care of business. This required the same strategy.

“None.”

Gia swept past him and headed up the stairs. Before they’d married, she would have taunted him with a kiss and a flirty smile. Now, she risked a peek at him over her shoulder and found him watching her, unblinking and resolved.

With a shiver, she raced to the master bedroom and got her first look at his personal space. The soft lights of the recessed cans and the golden glow from a lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room, muting the view of the city. The big dark leather-tufted headboard dominated one wall and lorded over the king-sized bed, covered in white with accents of shimmering taupe. It looked like a sleek hotel room. Except for the two women who stood inside the space, both gorgeous and impeccably groomed.

“Gia?” a blonde in her mid-thirties asked.

“Yes.” Were they Jason’s lovers? Did he want her to hear their bedroom tales or something?

“I’m Michaela.” Her smile broadened, a friendly gesture that surprisingly set her at ease. Then she gestured to the woman beside her. “This is my assistant Stacia.”

The very petite, exotic brunette bowed her head in welcome. “Hello.”

What was going on? “Nice to meet you.”

“If you’ll come with me into the bathroom, we’ll get started on your hair,” said Michaela.

Her hair? Jason wanted her tresses arranged in some fancy do before he tousled her in his big bed? Then again, this was his show. She was here to entertain him.

“Sure.”

As they rounded the corner into the modern space, she stopped short. A contemporary oval tub stood alone in the corner of the room on dark slate tile. Views of the city sparkled from the two walls of windows. A double vanity with hideously expensive marble carved out not only the counters but the sinks, all in severe angles. The piece took up half the length of one wall. A massive shower ate up the rest. No curtain or glass partitioned it off. The space was designed to simply walk into, with shower heads to spray a body from every direction, as well as overhead.

In the middle of the large space, Michaela had set up a big leather chair with an ottoman and waved Gia toward it. “Please sit here.”

Getting her hair done wasn’t exactly like being waterboarded. With a shrug, she eased into the seat.

Immediately, Michaela had her hands in Gia’s tresses, fluffing and testing its texture. “Tell me what you’d like to do with your hair. I’d recommend a trim to clean up the ends. We can play with the color if you want. Your dark brown has gold tones. It’s pretty, but I can add more warmth, frame your face with some highlights. We can also give you some depth with lowlights.”

“He didn’t give you specific instructions?” If he’d paid a pair of beauticians to come to his place, she figured that Jason would want to call the shots.

“Just to bring out your natural beauty and make you happy.”

That puzzled the hell out of Gia. She’d never been a girly-girl, and highlights would just mean maintenance later that she didn’t need to deal with. Her plate was already full. But a free haircut was a free haircut.

“Just a trim, please.”

Michaela didn’t show her disappointment. “Of course. I’ll condition it, too. Now that winter is coming, you’ll need a little extra moisture.”

Sure. Whatever.

Gia leaned back, lowering her head into one of Jason’s sinks as Michaela wet her hair. Stacia approached her with several bottles of nail polish and asked her to pick one for her pedicure. Absently, she picked a peachy-bronze color and sighed as Michaela began to shampoo her. Gia knew she should relax and enjoy the pampering. She hadn’t had any in the last year. Instead, the worry that the temporary nanny wouldn’t remember to read Tony Jr. a bedtime story distracted her. And the hope that Jason would soon be in a better mood ran a close second.

An hour later, she stared at herself in the mirror, blinking in surprise. With a few snips of the scissors, the brandishing of a blow dryer, and some turns of a curling iron, Michaela had transformed her hair into something beautiful, full of body and shine. Stacia had finished her pedi, and now shaped and buffed her fingernails.

Afterward, she emerged from the bathroom. A baby-doll nightie in a blush color, trimmed with beige lace that would cup her breasts and flirt with her thighs, lay strewn across the bed. A very small thong accompanied it. A pair of new champagne-hued Louboutin stilettos sat on top of their box, their bows glittering, the red soles a bright warning.

“I’m supposed to put all this on?” she asked no one in particular.

“Not yet,” Michaela answered, then turned to her assistant.

Gia caught sight of a pot of wax heating as Stacia set up what looked like a wide massage table and covered it with a clean sheet. Her stomach dropped. Jason really meant everything he’d said. He intended to take her to bed. For that, he’d want her waxed. After all, why shouldn’t he insist on his money’s worth? Remembering how much she’d hurt him and how much she owed him, she eased onto the table, vowing not to give her husband any more of herself than her body.

* * *

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Jason paced his kitchen. The scents of the savory garlic-herb roasted chicken and vegetables blended with the delicious aroma of yeasty bread. He should be hungry by now. Starved, even. Hell, he couldn’t notice a damn thing but the clock ticking, his dick aching, and that wretched pain only Gia could make him feel gouging his chest.

His wife had chosen money. He’d offered her the funds in desperation, never imagining that she’d take them. Rather, he’d clung to the hope that she had agreed to meet him at the Mexican restaurant because she wanted to resume their marriage. In truth, Jason had been worried that Gia had come to seek a divorce. He’d been prepared to talk fast to convince her otherwise. But never had he imagined that she’d actually take him up on his wretched offer and sell herself.

Apparently, she wasn’t different from the rest, after all.

The only saving grace to this situation was that his mother had been gone when he’d returned home late Sunday. Not surprisingly, she’d taken the cash on his dresser. Later, she’d texted to say that she had found a new friend while consoling herself at Neiman’s. Apparently, the man had invited her to dinner at The French Room. Jason hadn’t seen Samantha since. Her new friend must be “entertaining” her. Hell, if the guy had enough money, he’d probably be husband number five.

Finally, the two beauticians he’d hired to take care of Gia’s personal needs made their way down the stairs, implements all packaged up in their roller bags. He exchanged a few words with the quiet blonde, but didn’t hear a lot beyond the fact that his wife was finished and waiting for him upstairs.

More eager than he wanted to be, Jason paid the women and tipped them amply before he tossed together a dinner tray, added a chilled bottle of wine, and headed up to find his bride.

His heart raced as he reached the closed door. “Gia?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t sound at all happy. He’d given her more than one opportunity to leave, but she’d taken the mercenary path. He refused to feel sorry for her.

Balancing everything in one hand, he turned the knob and opened the door. As soon as he saw her, he nearly dropped the tray. She looked like his fantasies—only better. Her hair hung in loose waves. One of the women had done something that made her skin glow under the lights. Even her toenails shimmered. When he’d bought the miniscule scrap of lace she now wore, he’d imagined how she would look in it and gotten hard as hell. But seeing her in person? Damn. He could picture her spread out across his sheets, her gaze on him, her arms open as he ripped her thong away to expose her smooth, pouting pussy. The “fuck me” shoes made him want to do exactly that. Jason nearly growled with need. But he’d enjoy the sex more if Gia felt half as eager as he did…and if she’d lie to him and say she loved him, like she used to.

Patience.

If Gia wanted a divorce and she wanted to be paid for her freedom, he planned to make her earn every penny of it first. And if he was very lucky, maybe he’d figure out how to get enough of her and move on.

He set the tray on the dresser, still looking her over. “Beautiful.”

She cast her gaze down submissively. Either that or she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Thank you.”

“I brought us some dinner.” He poured the wine, and she took the glass, her expression somewhat guarded. “To…new endings.”

Her face closed up entirely. “Hopefully, a quick one.”

Jason made a noncommittal sound, repressing his urge to get her naked and flat before he put his stamp on her, hold her in his thrall the way she’d done him. Instead, he forced himself to wait. Gia gulped half her glass as if she needed the liquid courage.

Trying not to grit his teeth, he lifted the lid on the dishes, then pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

Slowly, she sat back against a stack of fluffy white pillows and took the plate. “Thank you.”

Their gazes met before hers skittered away.

Holding in a curse, Jason gave her a fork. When she grabbed the far end, refusing to even brush his fingers, his lips tightened. If she had a new aversion to touching him, he’d quickly put a stop to it.

Plate in hand, he sat back on the bed against the grouping of pillows, leaning against the headboard beside her. Digging his fork into his rice, he did his best to focus on the food and act as if nothing happening between them bothered him in the least.

“So, you’ve been dealing with your family. Tell me about the progress you’ve made in bringing your brother’s killer to justice.”

Gia tensed. “There hasn’t been any. My brother’s former partner initially pointed the finger at a thug named Ricky Wayman. A few days later, he recanted and claimed he wasn’t sure, but I know better. Patrick was either scared off or paid off. The day before my brother died, he told my dad that he knew Ricky had something big going down and he intended to stop it. Tony died on Ricky’s turf, so I know damn well who shot my brother.”

“No one has arrested Wayman?”

“They haven’t even brought him in for questioning.” And that obviously infuriated her.

“Don’t the police usually go all out to hunt down a cop killer?”

Something cynical and mad as hell twisted her delicate features. “Usually, yeah. Wayman’s got a sick rep and a lot of firepower.” Fingers gripping her plate until her knuckles turned white, she drew in an angry breath. “I think the brass is already convinced it’s an unwinnable war and it would cost too many lives to bring this one punk to justice. He takes out a lot of other criminals, so…”

“They let him slide.” Jason turned her words over in his head, angry on her behalf. Not only did someone as principled as Gia want the badges she worked with to do their jobs and put criminals behind bars, she expected it. She’d been disillusioned by their failure to act.

“Totally,” she confirmed, no longer eating.

Jason knew damn well how his wife had been spending her time this past year. Since she hadn’t gotten the help she needed from her fellow officers, she’d refused to give up on justice for her brother. “So you’ve spent all your free time tracking Wayman down yourself and trying to prove his guilt, even after I had you put behind a desk.” He sent her a speculative stare. “Your parents don’t know, do they?”