Method for Matrimony – Jupiter Tides Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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When I’d let myself think of him, I’d be struck with the fear that he’d make good on his promise to kill me the last time I saw him, the day I got the divorce. But time passed. A lot of it. And I figured he was never going to be motivated enough to search me out across the world purely to kill me. He wanted to scare me. Lived off that.

He barely existed for me now. I’d never fully forget the scars he’d forged in my soul, but they didn’t throb like they used to.

So yes, I was fucking shocked to open the door and see him standing there after a decade.

I was so surprised, in fact, that I didn’t do the smart thing like shut the door in his face and go grab the gun Kip kept in his bedside table. The gun we’d bickered about because I didn’t love the idea of being in the house with a weapon.

Right now, the idea of being in the house with a weapon seemed pretty damn comforting. Or it would’ve if I’d gone to get said weapon.

I just stood there, stunned. Like a fucking idiot in a horror movie.

Which gave Emmet the opportunity he needed to push through the door hard enough for me to tip backward, almost going down before I caught myself. Apparently, the prenatal yoga I did every few days helped with something.

I might’ve scrambled out the door to make a run—or wobble—for it if Emmet hadn’t snatched my upper arm and yanked me back into the house.

My fear response hadn’t spiked yet. I couldn’t quite believe he was here, in my house. I was having some kind of out-of-body experience. Which really fucking sucked because I liked to think my fight-or-flight response was a little more robust.

Only once we got into the kitchen did I regain my wits enough to yank him off and get as much space from him as I could. I rounded the kitchen counter, putting the island between us, my back to the french doors that led to the deck. Emmet surprisingly let me do that, though he stayed between me and the front door.

My heart thundered in my chest, anxiety and fear curling in my body. I tried to remember where in the fuck I’d put my phone. Kip had been lecturing me about always having it close by in case any kind of emergency happened when I was alone. Which wasn’t often.

I’d fought him on that because there was almost always someone here with me now that my due date was approaching, and because my overprotective husband called, texted, and came home multiple times a day to ‘check on me.’ I felt incredibly foolish in this moment for being so goddamn stubborn.

But living in that mindset wasn’t going to help me in this situation. Kip could walk in the door at any minute. He probably would. Someone would.

But I couldn’t rely on that. Strength. I had to portray strength.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, tilting my head upward and looking at him straight on.

He had aged well. Assholes tended to do that. He was still handsome, in that effortless ‘surfer boy who never grew up’ type of way. Dark messy hair, tanned skin, smooth and expensive-looking polo. Muscled arms and manicured nails. But his eyes. They gave him away. They were empty. Soulless.

Those eyes were focused on my now-large stomach.

“My husband is going to be home any minute,” I told him, trying to sound casual and not terrified.

But I was.

Fucking terrified.

I was pregnant as fuck, without a weapon, in a house alone with the man who had punched me in the face the last time we were alone together.

I was not the same woman I was then, but I was also smart enough to understand I was at a serious disadvantage.

“Your husband,” he repeated, smacking his lips. He was speaking quietly, standing still. Too fucking still.

I knew this energy. My body had learned to be afraid of this energy, to know that pain was coming soon after.

Emmet glanced around the kitchen, his eyes falling on the framed photo from our wedding day that Nora had sent me and I’d had printed a few weeks ago. It was us, kissing. My dress was a burst of red, Kip’s hands were clutching my body, and it seemed laughable to think that we were ever going to be able to keep our hands off each other.

Emmet’s icy gaze returned to me, and my stomach clenched.

“Your husband is the reason I lost my business, my wife, and was almost put in fucking prison,” he spat, fury leeching into his tone.

I blinked in surprise. Had Kip done that? I couldn’t be sure. But I knew the look on his face when he’d found out about my past. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d flown across the world to kill Emmet.


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