Chapter 3 3

The sky over Long Island had turned a bruised purple by the time Hunt returned. He was early-rare for him. He wanted to make sure Dianna understood the rules for the upcoming week with Chasity back in town.

He pushed open the front door. "Dianna?"

Silence.

Usually, she would be in the foyer, waiting to take his coat, desperate for a crumb of affection. Today, the house felt tomb-like.

"Sir." The butler, Thomas, appeared from the hallway. He looked uncomfortable.

"Where is she?" Hunt demanded, stripping off his gloves.

"Mrs. Brennan... she left this afternoon, sir."

Hunt paused. A scoff escaped his lips. "Left? To the spa? Shopping?"

"She took a suitcase, sir."

Hunt's jaw tightened. "Another tantrum," he muttered. "She's trying to leverage more money."

He took the stairs two at a time, fueled by irritation. He shoved open the door to the master bedroom.

"Dianna, come out. I don't have time for games."

The room was pristine. Too pristine.

He walked to the dresser. The light from the lamp caught the sparkle of the diamond ring. It sat there, abandoned, on top of the severed pieces of the Centurion card.

Hunt stared at it. His heart did a strange, painful flip in his chest. A physiological reaction he didn't authorize.

He picked up the ring. It was cold. He squeezed it in his fist until the edges dug into his palm.

"You think this scares me?" he whispered to the empty room.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

The subscriber you have dialed is currently switched off.

He threw the phone onto the bed. "Fine. Starve out there. You'll be back when the credit cards decline."

Outside, the sky opened up. Rain lashed against the windows, a sudden summer storm.

Dianna wasn't far. She was standing at the end of the mile-long driveway, soaked to the bone. Her Uber had canceled on her, and her phone battery had died ten minutes ago.

She shivered, her wet clothes clinging to her skin like a second, freezing skin.

Headlights cut through the darkness. A black SUV was coming down the driveway, leaving the estate. It was Hunt. He was going back to the city, probably to see Chasity.

Dianna stepped onto the grass, not wanting to block him, but hoping he would stop.

The car slowed. The window rolled down.

Hunt's face appeared. He looked dry, warm, and angry. He looked at her wet hair, her shivering form, and he didn't see a woman in distress. He saw a manipulator playing a scene.

"Get in," he barked. "If you think standing in the rain is going to make me feel guilty, you're delusional."

Dianna wiped water from her eyes. She couldn't see him clearly through the downpour.

"I'm not playing!" she shouted over the thunder. "Hunt, I signed the papers! Just let me go!"

The wind swallowed her words. Hunt only heard the noise.

"I said get in the car, Dianna!"

She shook her head, stepping back. "No! I'm leaving!"

Hunt's patience snapped. He hit the button. The window rolled up, sealing him back in his silent, temperature-controlled world.

"Drive," he told the driver. "She needs to learn a lesson."

The car accelerated. Mud water splashed up, coating Dianna's legs. She watched the taillights disappear around the bend.

She didn't cry. She started to laugh. It was a broken, jagged sound.

A pair of headlights approached from the opposite direction. A beat-up Volvo. Her new ride share.

The car stopped. The driver, an older man, rolled down the window. "Miss? You okay?"

Dianna opened the door and threw her suitcase in. She climbed into the back seat, dripping water onto the upholstery.

"Where to?" the driver asked, handing her a box of tissues.

Dianna wiped her face. Her expression hardened. The sadness was evaporating, replaced by a cold resolve.

"The Brennan Tower," she said. "Midtown."

She reached into her waterproof bag and pulled out the manila envelope. The edges were damp, but the contents were dry.

"I have a delivery to make."