She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 130

(Natasha)

I wake up to the realization that my head is splitting open.

That’s the first thing.

The second thing is there’s too much light.

The third thing is that I don’t know where I am.

I close my eyes and try to assemble the night, and my brain returns nothing at all.

Drinking whiskey in a hotel bar is as far as I get.

Nothing after that.

I open my eyes again. The ceiling is wrong.

I roll onto my side very, very slowly, because moving any faster will end with me being sick on the carpet.

Julian is asleep next to me.

He’s lying bare-chested on top of the covers in only his boxers.

He looks utterly serene, like a man who’s had an excellent night, and he’s not even snoring, which somehow makes it worse.

What the hell have I done?

I lie completely still and try to breathe.

My eyes dart around the room.

My blouse is on the floor by the bed, in a heap.

One of my shoes is in the far corner. The other is by the bathroom door.

There’s a wine glass on the dresser with my lipstick on the rim.

I press my fist against my mouth.

I’m only wearing my lingerie.

The scant mercy in this whole catastrophe is that I’m not naked, but what if I just pulled these back on after…

Oh, God. No.

I’ve been married to Chase for over a year.

I’m at war with him in a courtroom over our daughter.

I’m furious with him in ways I can’t put into sentences.

I’ve been hurt by him in ways that have not finished hurting yet.

I’m also still his wife.

I don’t cheat.

I’ve never cheated.

The one thing I had left in this entire collapsing disaster was the moral high ground.

Now I’ve lost that too.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I look at the clock on the nightstand. It is five fifty-four. I have a meeting at half past seven.

I sit up.

The room tilts hard to the left and I have to grip the edge of the mattress to keep from going with it.

My stomach lurches.

I get to my feet and the floor is not where I expect it to be.

I stumble and hit my thigh hard against the bedside table.

"Well, good morning."

Julian's voice is husky and amused.

I can’t look at him.

I yank my blouse and skirt over my scantily clad body in a hurry.

"You’re not sneaking off on me, are you?" he asks, and I can hear the smile in it.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify