Chapter 9 9

The morning sun streamed into the hospital corridor, a stark contrast to the gloom of the previous night. Claudia sat on a bench outside her father's room, eating a stale sandwich from the vending machine. She felt grimy and exhausted, the stress of the last twenty-four hours settling into her bones.

"Claudia?"

The voice was warm, familiar, like a favorite song from childhood.

She looked up. Standing there, holding a bouquet of yellow tulips, was Jaylen Craft.

Jaylen. Her neighbor growing up. Her best friend before marriage and duty tore her away. He had moved to Silicon Valley five years ago and made a fortune in tech.

"Jaylen?" Claudia stood up, the sandwich forgotten.

He smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. "I heard about your dad. I flew in as soon as I could."

"You came back?"

"For you? Always."

Tears welled in her eyes again-her hormones were a wreck. She stepped forward, and he opened his arms. She buried her face in his chest. He smelled of clean soap and rain, nothing like the heavy, expensive scents of Ezequiel's world.

"I'm so tired, Jay," she whispered into his shirt.

"I know, Claud. I know. I've got you."

He rubbed her back soothingly. For the first time in days, she felt safe.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened.

Ezequiel stepped out. He was holding a large arrangement of lilies-probably a token gesture for her father, or maybe he was on his way to see Alexa again and got off on the wrong floor.

He stopped dead.

His eyes locked onto them. Claudia saw his pupils contract. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.

She pulled away from Jaylen, guilt flushing her cheeks even though she had done nothing wrong.

Ezequiel walked toward them, his strides long and predatory. He didn't look at Claudia. He looked at Jaylen.

"And who might this be?" Ezequiel asked, his voice dropping to a temperature that could freeze water.

Jaylen didn't back down. He straightened his jacket and met Ezequiel's gaze. "Jaylen Craft. An old friend."

"Craft," Ezequiel repeated. "The tech guy."

"That's right."

"What are you doing hugging my wife?"

"Comforting her," Jaylen said smoothly. "Since her husband seems to be absent."

Ezequiel's eyes flashed. He dropped the flowers onto a nearby chair-carelessly, ruining the petals-and stepped between them. He claimed the space with aggressive dominance.

He reached out and wrapped his arm around Claudia's waist, pulling her hard against his side. His large hand splayed possessively over her stomach.

Her breath hitched. His hand was right there. Right over the baby.

"She is my wife," Ezequiel snarled. "She doesn't need comfort from outsiders."

"She looks like she needs a lot of things she isn't getting," Jaylen retorted, glancing at Ezequiel's hand on her with distaste.

"Get out of here," Ezequiel said. "Before I have security throw you out."

"I'm leaving," Jaylen said. He looked at Claudia, his eyes soft. "Call me if you need anything, Claudia. Anything at all."

He turned and walked toward the elevators.

Ezequiel watched him go, his body vibrating with tension. He didn't let go of her. His hand tightened on her stomach.

"Is he the reason?" Ezequiel whispered in her ear.

"What?"

"Is he the reason you want the divorce? So you can run back to your childhood sweetheart?"

"You're the one who wanted the divorce!" she cried, trying to pry his fingers off her.

"Maybe I changed my mind," he muttered, looking at where Jaylen had disappeared. "Maybe I don't like other men touching what belongs to me."