the altar.” Henry spoke from the other side of the entryway.
Sonja jerked, her stomach heaved, and she grabbed the high counter surrounding Alesia’s desk. She lifted her chin and braced herself for the censure, the reproach, the curiosity she expected in Henry’s expression. Son of a bayou bitch, it was as if she hadn’t already faced him down a couple of hours ago.
When their eyes met he looked every bit the easygoing charmer who he’d become with her. Startled, she threw him her best glare. He hadn’t reverted back to the tight-ass, born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-his-mouth lawyer he’d been when she’d joined the firm five years ago. Just as in their destroyed home, he gave off a different energy. The familiar sensual heat didn’t radiate from his eyes. A twinge of sorrow hit her in the middle of her rib cage and caught her off guard. A reminder of how easy it had been to fall for Henry.
She’d been hired by his father almost four years ago. She’d watched his interest in her flicker on and off for three months before he’d read her mind, somehow seen her daydreams, and finally asked her out. And taken her to bed, the devout attention to detail he was known for in the courtroom turned on completely for her, to her, making her feel things and do things she’d never thought of. Or at least, never thought of doing sober, in broad daylight, like the time he’d taken one of his brother’s boats out into the bayou and bent her over the wheelhouse rail, taking her with raw need and heat. It had been worth the mosquito bites.
She shook her head, needing the physical motion to release the memory. “Good morning.” The two words were all that separated her from giving in to her desire to run or stay and stand her ground like the strong woman she’d thought she was. The woman who’d never have let Henry’s parents talk to her the way they did, who’d have paid heed to the warning signs that a marriage to Henry Boudreaux was never going to work. The woman who would have seen the evidence in front of her that there was a major trust issue going on.
“Sonja.” Henry graced her with one more scorching appraisal before turning to Alesia with a warm smile. “We’ll need lunch catered for the McNeely account, main conference room. Sonja, Rick, and I will sit in, and there are six attending from their team.”
Sonya’s head buzzed with the drone of Henry and Alesia’s conversation. She walked off to her office, unable to pretend that each time she had to deal with Henry was anything less than it was.
Cataclysmic.
* * * *
Henry had expected a huge surge of exultation at her shocked expression. It was what he’d intended to do. Shake her out of her professional composure, throw her off her damned too-sexy heels and let her know that she hadn’t affected him at all. He didn’t care if he’d made her throw up just hours ago. And he was grateful she’d fled their vows. The marriage had been a bad idea from the start. Living together had worked; why had they pushed it to the altar?
Why did you push it to the altar?
He stifled a groan.
“Do you want me to get the usual mix of wraps or something more local for lunch?” Alesia’s attention was completely on him, and he’d barely heard her request.
He wanted to give in to his snide alter ego, the energy that had kept him moving forward through the hell that had become his life since Sonja left him a jilted groom only a little over three weeks ago.
“You decide. Your judgment is impeccable.” He flashed Alesia the grin that had opened doors for him all across Southern Louisiana, throughout the New Orleans courts, even without his family name.
The grin that had initially drawn Sonja to him three and a half years ago, if what she’d told him was the truth. If she’d fallen for him at first sight, as she’d said. If her heart had really skipped a beat and she’d gotten the hiccups because her soul had “recognized” him. They’d been in this same office, Sonja sitting opposite his father as the senior Boudreaux interviewed her. She’d been sipping on a cola and showed zero signs of nervousness. And the way her eyes had sized him up had made him hard on the spot. Her expression had been priceless when that loud hiccup erupted from her mouth, her sexy as sin lips puffing, and all he’d been able to think about was how badly he needed to touch her, kiss her, have her.
She’d said it was love at first sight for her. That Henry was it. He let out a grunt of frustration. He’d never forgive himself for his own fucking stupidity. Nothing she’d said or done had been the truth, it turned out.
He closed the door to his office and crashed down hard on the leather sofa. And immediately bounced back up, unable to be in such close proximity to the very place he’d last made love to Sonja. They’d been working late to get ahead on their cases, knowing that they’d be in Tahiti for ten days after the wedding. Thinking about her in a teeny bikini, or better, nothing, had made him harder than the oak desk he leaned against, his hands wrapping around the edge. She’d let him go down on her as she lay across his quickly cleared desk, and with no one in the office, Sonja’s cries had wrapped around him as they both came in a rush of lust. Combined with love, or so he’d thought.
A true love didn’t abandon you at the altar, though.
His phone buzzed, and he gratefully grabbed for the distraction.
“Hey, Gus.”
“Henry. You back at work?” His brother’s long drawl was indicative of a happy man. Brandon “Gus” Boudreaux should be happy—he’d met the love of his life when Sonja’s maid of honor had showed up for the pre-wedding festivities.
Poppy and Brandon had been all but inseparable ever since, and Henry believed his little brother when he told him he knew Poppy was “the one.” Henry had thought Sonja was the one for him. Familiar pain squeezed just above his stomach.
“Bro, you still there?” Brandon sounded worried.
“Fuck. Yes, I’m here.”
“A little early for you to be cussing, big brother. Let me guess, Sonja’s back at work today. Am I right?”
“Yes.” Through clenched teeth.
“Maybe it’s a good day for you to take a breather. You’ve been working since what, last week?”
“Yeah. I can’t take off—we have a big client meeting today.”
“You, or you and Sonja?”
“Both of us.”
A long whistle. “Sorry, Henry. That sucks moose cock.”
He laughed despite his existential struggles. “Yeah. Yeah it does, man.”
“Whatever you do, keep your chin up and don’t let her see you suffer. Unless you want her back.”
“Hell no. Never.”
“Sounds a little too quick on the draw, Henry. You still haven’t hashed out what happened at the wedding.”
“There’s nothing to hash out. And frankly, it started long before then.” He walked around his desk and lowered himself into the chair, forcing his gaze out the window at the Spanish-moss-draped oak that sheltered the office from the hot Louisiana sun. “It’s over. My only regret is that I didn’t stop it sooner.”
“Bullshit, brother.” Brandon
