Marrying the Millionaire (2 page)

He lulled open her drawer, pulled out
the letter addressed to her husband Richmond, then slid it into the
pocket inside his blazer. Tears puddled in his eyes. He grazed her
cheek with his knuckles. Tender. Gentle.

“
I hope I never have to
give Richmond this letter.”

I hope you don’t
either.
If he ever finds out I killed
myself, he’ll hate me for all eternity.

Suddenly engulfed with nausea, the
drug shot through Salina’s veins like hot gasoline. Her lungs
constricted and expanded and constricted. Her breathing
labored.

“
It’s working. Thank.
You.”

Quick, shallow breaths rushed through
the small circular opening of her pursed lips.

I’m losing my breath. Can
hardly breathe.

Bright headlights from outdoors in the
driveway streamed through the sheer drapes and spilled inside the
bedroom. Tires rolling over thick gravel punctuated her eardrums. A
car engine hummed.

Salina’s friend hastened to the
window, stood to the side of the wall. Wary, he stuck two fingers
between the cracks in the blinds and scissored them open to peer
out the window into the dark night.

“
Richmond’s here.” He
cursed. “You’re husband’s home.” Shock was laden in his voice. His
shoes shuffled across the carpet as he rushed back over to the bed
where she lay dying. “Apparently, he changed his mind about going
to the wedding.”

Tears of grief drenched Salina’s face.
“Go out,” she inhaled harshly, “back door.”

Mercy darkened the gentleman’s eyes
standing over her bed. “Dear God. Look what I’ve done. This is
murder.” As Salina fought to breathe in her next breath, he bent
over and gently kissed her hot forehead. “I’m sorry things had to
be this way. Ask God to forgive me when you get to Heaven,” he
mumbled. Grief-stricken, he snatched his medical bag from the bed,
then hastened out of the room like a thief in the night.

Suffocating, Salina inhaled deeply.
Her lazy eyes drifted closed, then her vision turned
black.

I’m coming to meet you,
God.

The rhythmic beating of her heart
slowed. Harsh wisps of air squeezed from her slightly-parted mouth.
Feeling life slip from her banged-up body, she crossed her hands
across her breasts.

My soul’s slipping.
I’m sorry, Richmond. Sorry, Isabelle.

“
Salina.”

Keeping her lids sealed, Salina heard
her loving husband, Richmond, call out her name. Submerged in a sea
of blackness, she sank further into death.

When Richmond sat down beside her on
the bed, she felt the mattress sink with a resounding squeak.
Gently wrapping his large hand around hers, he grazed his knuckles
against her cheek with his free hand. Oh God, she loved him more
than she loved herself.

Richmond cleared his throat. “I
decided not to go to the wedding. I just couldn’t leave you,
darling. You’re so beautiful when you sleep, my sweet, precious
wife.” Hearing her husband’s deep baritone voice, her heart
clenched.

Suddenly, a hot pang shot through
Salina’s veins, zapped to her heart. Her eyes sprang open. She
gasped for air.

“
Uhhh.”

Her lungs constricted harshly. Feeling
as if she was having a heart attack, pain stabbed her heart.
Muscles contracted. Bones ached. Having no control over her bodily
functions, she shook violently. Like an evil spirit had entered her
body. Like an exorcist had gripped her soul.

Fear widened Richmond’s chestnut eyes.
“Oh my God, Salina!” He leaned into her, clutched her biceps.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Panicked, he scooped her up in his
muscular arms and squeezed tight.

I’m so sorry, so sorry.
I’m leaving.

As she quaked against his solid chest,
he reached over to the nightstand, snatched the phone off the
receiver, and dialed 911. Dying within her husband’s strong
embrace, Salina’s limbs stiffened. Her fists balled. Trying not to
swallow her tongue, she clenched her teeth.

Gazing at her handsome husband’s face,
her vision turned pitch black.

Goodbye, Richmond. I.
Love. You.

Her eyes wide open, Salina inhaled one
final breath. Her soul spiraled from her body up toward the night
sky and floated past the glowing moon. Salina died in the arms of
the only man she’d ever loved—her wonderful husband—Richmond Kenard
Spaulding.

KAYLA CRAWFORD SAT AT THE round table
inside her kitchen, holding her face. Pain throbbed at the sides of
her temples as she wept her eyes out. Nerves on edge, her stomach
roiled with cramps.

At the loud sound of the cordless
telephone ringing, Kayla lifted her aching head from her dampened
palms and swallowed the sorrowful emotion threatening to spurt from
her quivering mouth.

My life is a mess. A fat,
disgusting mess.

Upset, her heart clenched inside her
tight chest.

Kayla’s husband, Carson, stalked
inside the kitchen dragging a black suitcase behind him. Sporting a
low haircut, a snide expression outlined the features of his
brown-complexioned face. One look at the pitiful expression on her
wet face, and Carson shook his head.

“
I’ll have my attorney
contact yours. Please don’t get greedy in what you’re asking for.
When talking with your attorney, keep in mind, if it weren’t
for
me,
you
wouldn’t have anything. Not a damn thing.”

Carson’s cruel words sliced Kayla’s
pounding heart in half. She swiped at the tear rolling down her
cheek, then sniffled. What did he mean, she wouldn’t have anything
if it weren’t for him?

Holding Carson’s brutal
stare, Kayla pushed back the chair and stood.
Jackass!
The last time she checked,
she had a Bachelor’s of Arts degree in Education and had planned on
becoming a teacher; however, right after she’d graduated from the
University of South Carolina, she’d gotten pregnant. He’d insisted
they get married, and he’d ordered her to become a housewife to
raise their son, Carson Jr., CJ.

Gosh, why did I name my
son after this jerk?

Irritated beyond measure, Kayla
huffed. Feeling like a fool desperate to hold on to her marriage,
she folded her arms beneath her breasts and uttered, “Why are you
in such a rush to divorce me?” She knew they had marital problems,
but everybody does. There wasn’t such a thing as a perfect
marriage. But a divorce? A freaking divorce? “Can’t we at least
separate for a while?” She blinked at the tears swelling inside her
eyeballs.

Carson rolled his eyes. He
released the handle of his suitcase and straightened his red
speckled tie. “Look. I might as well tell you the truth. I would
give our marriage a second chance
if
I loved you. But that’s the
thing, Kayla,” he uttered, shaking his head, “I don’t love you
anymore.”

Kayla’s heart
caved
. Drip. Drip.
Drip, drip, drip.
Huge droplets of
water poured from her eyes, streamed down her face like a running
faucet.
You’re having an affair, aren’t
you, Carson?
Sniffling, she choked out,
“What’s her name?”

Carson’s head jerked back. He frowned.
“Huh? Ah, come on now, Kayla. Surely, you don’t think I’m involved
with anyone.” His cold, heartless tone floated around inside the
kitchen.

I can tell by the look in
your eyes you’re lying, Carson.
Kayla
flung her arms up in the air. “What else am I supposed to think,
Carson? You sprang this whole divorce thing on me two weeks ago.
Out of the blue, you just up and want a divorce. I know there’s
someone else.”

Silence loomed in the air as dread
filled her from head to toe. For the life of her, she couldn’t
remember the last time her husband had intimately touched her. Or
the last time he had made sweet, tender love to her. Or the last
time he’d asked her on a date for a fun night on the town. Being
married to Carson sucked.

Understanding how far they’d grown
apart, Kayla’s heart cracked in half. She should’ve seen this
divorce coming a long time ago, but she hadn’t. She’d been too busy
lying to herself, telling herself that everything between them was
okay. That her husband didn’t spend time with her because he was
too busy working, and too busy golfing. Too busy hanging out with
his guy friends. He found time to spend with everybody, except for
her and their son, CJ. Yes, his actions had indicated he didn’t
love her anymore, but she’d lied to herself and convinced herself
that he did.

Silence loomed, heightening the
tension. Carson stalked over to the refrigerator to grab a cold
beer. Glaring at her as if she stank, he leaned up against the edge
of the sink and gulped the beverage.

Despaired, Kayla released a
harsh sigh.
I don’t want a divorce. Lord
knows I don’t. Please God, help my stupid husband see fit to stay.
What will CJ and I do without him? I don’t even have a freaking
job.
Having gone from high school straight
to college, she’d never worked a day in her life.

Carson blew out a pent-up breath. “We
married young, okay?” He grimaced.

So what?
Shaking her head, Kayla rolled her eyes. She
fought to control her swirling emotions.

“
Lots of people marry
young, but they don’t just up and file for a divorce. Marriage is
supposed to be for better or worse. You have to work through the
hard times, together. It’s not just about you. You’re twenty-six,
grown, and have a son to think about. What about CJ? Can’t we at
least try to work this out for the sake of our son?”

Carson held Kayla’s gaze for a brief
moment. Leaving the beer bottle on the granite counter, he gripped
the handle of his luggage, then walked toward the front door.
Keeping his back to her, he grasped the door knob and gazed out the
pane of square glass carved in the door.

As if he were contemplating his
degrading decision, Carson’s shoulders rose and fell with every
breath he inhaled. Still clenching the brass door knob, he shook
his head hard.

“
It’s too late for us,
Kayla.”

Whatever.

Without looking back at his wife, he
pulled open the door and walked out on her, leaving his son behind
as well.

At the sound of the door shutting, a
loud sob burst from Kayla’s throat and echoed inside the living
room. Staggering toward the couch, she dropped to her knees,
slapped hard hands to her crying face. Pain riveted her
soul.

Tilting her head back, she choked on
her moaning sobs.

He left me. He left me and
my baby. How could he do this to us?

Her shoulders shook violently as she
sat on the floor crying, slowly dying inside.

I gave Carson the best
years of my life. My youngest years, and he does this to me. I
can’t afford to keep this house. What am I going to do? I’m
twenty-four and about to get a divorce. Lord, help me. Please help
me.

Shocked and feeling betrayed, Kayla
pulled her weak body into an upright position. She crawled over to
the couch and remained sitting on the floor. With her back aligned
to the sofa, Kayla grabbed the v of her cotton shirt, then dragged
it over her running nose, then her burning eyes. The telephone rang
again, then stopped. Then it began ringing once more.

I don’t feel like talking
now.

Her throbbing head felt as if it would
burst wide open. She leaned the back of her head on the edge of the
cushion, closed her eyes, and reminisced about the love she and
Carson once shared. Early on in their relationship, he’d been so
good to her. Forget that crap, it hurt too bad to think of the day
she’d spotted him walking across the lawn while he was visiting his
sister in college.

“
Mommy! Mommy!” Kayla’s
two-year-old son, CJ, scuttled inside the living room, clutching
the cordless telephone in his hand. “It Papa!” he shouted, standing
in front of her, out of breath and smiling.

Oh, CJ, why did you answer
the phone? I’m in no mood to talk.
Staring
at her with his piercing, brown, doe-like eyes, her heart
warmed.
I have to pull myself together for
you.