Chapter 7

NATHANIEL. Staring at the text message containing his wife’s address just to make sure he wasn’t thinking it, Nathaniel raised his eyes to the young man exiting said apartment. The man—in his late twenties or thereabout, was tall, lean, cropped blond hair sticking up from his head and there was a spring to his step that irritated Nathaniel. What was it with his wife and men? First it had been the other one he spoke to on the phone the other day, and now it was another. He needed to have a word with her about her promiscuity but first, he would let this lily-livered fool know he was messing around with another man’s wife. The man, unaware of who he was, walked towards him in languid strides. Nathaniel stood his ground, blocking the stairway so the man would not be able to get away from him. “You there,” he called, halting the man’s movement. He took a few steps until he was standing directly in front of him. “What apartment did you just come out of?” The man blinked, obviously stunned. He lifted a hand to his chest. “Me?” Nathaniel gave him a wry smile. “Well, I don’t see anyone else around. Do you?” “Look here, mister,” the man started, defiance in his eyes, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are or who you think you’re talking to but I’m not looking for a fight.” They were almost the same height, Nathaniel realized. He took another step closer. “Why? You don’t think frolicking around with other people’s women is worth fighting for?” “Other people’s—” The man let out a chuckle though it came out as a shaky breath. “What on earth are you talking about?” “What apartment did you just come out of?” Nathaniel asked again, his voice hard. The man eyed him suspiciously and Nathaniel thought he probably figured this was not some child’s play because his eyes narrowed before replying, “205.” 205. Anger coursed through him. That was Ysabel’s apartment. He’d not been wrong about that. It was at that second he realized that he might have been wrong about something else. He fixed the man a glare. “What’s your name?” “Justin.” Nathaniel sighed. “Shit,” he murmured under his breath. It was the same guy from last night. Without thinking about it, he released the shopping bags he carried and reached forward, grabbing Justin by the lapels and jerking him roughly against the wall. “Look,” Justin began as his back collided with the flat surface, fear evident in his eyes, “I’m sorry. I don’t who your woman is, but I’m sorry.” Nathaniel stared cooly into his frightened eyes, suddenly feeling like a giant ass. What was he doing harassing an innocent man? The person he had a bone to pick with was his wife, not this man. Hell, it was possible that Ysabel hadn’t told him that she was married. But even as he tried to be reasonable, he still couldn’t help the rage that ran through him at the thought that this man had been... Then again, maybe she had told him and he still didn’t care. Cursing under his breath, Nathaniel let go of him, stepping back. This entire ordeal had turned him to a ball of rage; he didn’t like it. It wasn’t who he was. A person didn't get to where he'd gotten in life by letting their emotions blow up in front of others. He wanted to say an apology to this Justin guy. He should, shouldn’t he? He’d just nearly mauled the man. Running a hand gingerly through his hair, he reached down, grabbed the shopping bags that he now had half a mind to throw away and left. The drive back to his penthouse was the most frustrating he’d ever experienced. He was objectively a very rich man and he supposed he wasn’t ugly either. She even had his card, though she had not used a penny of it. What else did she want that he couldn’t give her? Two nights in a row? It couldn’t have been a coincidence. What did she see in that Justin guy? He wanted to growl. He pulled into his garage, cut off the ignition, left the shopping bags in the backseat of his car and took the elevator up to his penthouse. Tomorrow he would tell Aurora to do away with it however she saw fit. He was past caring. The elevator tinged and he stepped into his space. Then he was dialing his mother’s number. She picked on the second ring. “I’m done,” he announced, striding towards the bar to pour himself something to drink. He would not go through the rest of the night sober. “I’m done.” “Nathaniel?” His mom’s voice was muffled. She had been asleep and he’d woken her up. Guilt pricked at him. “It’s half past eleven. What’s wrong? What have you done?” He threw his head back and sipped from a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat. “I want a divorce.” “What? Why?” “Because my wife may be a cheat, that’s why. I think she is a cheat.” Throwing his head back, he downed the remaining whiskey. The burning sensation in his throat was welcomed but it wasn’t enough to dull the fierce ache in his chest. “I called her yesterday night and a man answered. Then I decided to go there tonight and guess what I saw?” “Thane, calm down.” But he was past calming down. “A man was leaving her apartment. When I asked who he was, I found out he was the same man from last night.” The sound of the accusation seemed to linger in the air, the aftermath of its sudden demise. The silence that followed was heavy, as if the room held its breath, acknowledging his wife’s infidelity and his fury. “She’s having an affair,” he murmured, sighing defeatedly. “Hold on,” his mother interjected. “I don’t think you should jump to such conclusions, Thane. You don’t know that.” “I know what I saw, Mom,” he almost yelled, forcing himself to control his emotions. He couldn’t continue like this anymore. “I should have never gone through with this marriage.” After all, his life had been perfectly fine before his mother had asked him to go and get his wife. He’d been more than okay thinking about her fleetingly, never needing to acknowledge their alliance, only knowing that it existed. Now that he’d dared to pursue her, her promiscuity was not something he could ignore. He didn’t like to share, especially not his wife. A voice whispered at the back of his head that he’d never had her to begin with but he ignored it. Semantics. “Are you sure?” His mother’s voice was dejected and guilt ate at him once more. She’d wanted their marriage to work, why, he had no freaking clue. He would’ve asked her where she found Ysabel again if he thought she would give him a solid answer but as it stood, he was done thinking about Ysabel. He ran a hand down his face. “I’m sure.” “Then it’s fine with me, mijo. I just want you to be happy,” she said. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.” And he knew she meant it. His mother was his rock; he didn’t know what he’d do without her. When the call ended a minute later, Nathaniel called up his lawyer before he could change his mind. Once he explained the grounds for the divorce and requested for it to be filed as soon as possible, he felt slightly better. That was until the thought of Justin on top of Ysabel crossed his mind again and he almost collapsed from all the raging feelings inside him. The best move right now would to try and sleep, but he knew that would be impossible. He didn't want to be home at the moment, or at the office, or anywhere, really. He definitely shouldn't go out to a bar, not in his mental condition right now — he wasn't someone who turned to alcohol when things got rough. So he decided to do exactly that.