Risk and Reward Read online

  Risk and Reward

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachael Duncan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, if done so constitutes a copyright violation. This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Edited by:

  Nichole Strauss with Insight Editing Services

  Proofread by:

  Judy Zweifel with Judy’s Proofreading

  Interior Design & Formatting by:

  Christine Borgford with Type A Formatting

  Cover Designed by:

  Marisa Shor with Cover Me, Darling

  Photographer:

  Lindee Robinson with Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models:

  Andrew Kruczynski and Daria Rottenberk

  Contents

  Risk and Reward

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  At Her Own Risk

  Calculated Risk

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Rachael Duncan

  To second chances.

  A SIGH PASSES my lips as I close my eyes and arch my back. Pleasure starts in my core, working its way up and down my body. Sweat forms on my brow and I moan out in need, desperate to get to the finish line.

  “Yes,” I say on a breath as a tingling sensation radiates out from my center, spreading over my whole body. With toes curled, I fist the sheets in one hand as I wait to crash over the edge. It’s a slow, steady buildup, causing my breath to hitch and my head to tilt back. My movements become more hurried and frantic as I chase after the high I know I’ll soon experience.

  I focus on the waves rippling through me as I’m consumed by my orgasm and block out the sound of my vibrator. Soon, the free fall stops, as does the constant humming and I’m brought back to reality. I look around the quiet room while on my empty bed—again—and let out a frustrated sigh.

  Sitting up, I roll out of bed and walk into the bathroom to get ready for the day. I’m running over to Lydia’s place for lunch later this afternoon. We met while in college and have been friends for several years now. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.

  After I pull up my sandy blonde hair, throw on some mascara, and get dressed, I leave my room and head downstairs. At the bottom of the staircase sits one of my favorite memories encased in a frame on a small table. I pause to stare at it. Nate and I had just started dating and were at a bonfire with all my friends. Looking back, he seems so out of place, especially since he was seven years older, but it was never an issue. I wanted to go, and he wanted to make me happy.

  A small smile touches my lips as I stare at the couple I hardly recognize now. Neither of us knew the picture was being taken. With his arm draped over my shoulders and the warm light of the fire hitting our faces, we both gazed at each other like we were the only two people in the world. He thought I hung the moon, and I thought he had the ability to make time stand still.

  My smile fades as I set down the picture. I’m not sure why I’m reminiscing about the past. Maybe because I’m going to Lydia’s house in just a bit. She and her husband, Marcus, are the perfect couple and sometimes I’m envious. Don’t get me wrong; I’m beyond happy for her. There was a time I wasn’t sure she’d ever let go of her past hurt and open her heart up to someone else. But seeing them together makes the deficiencies in my own relationship glaringly obvious.

  My phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I see Nate’s name flash across the screen.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hey, my love, I’m not going to be home tonight. I have to stay one more night here and I’ll fly home tomorrow, okay?”

  I should be used to this. Ever since he took the position as assistant athletic director at the university, our lives have been this way. Still, it doesn’t ease the dread that encompasses me when he calls me while he’s out of town, or the disappointment that settles in every time I have to spend another night at home alone. But, I do what I’ve always done. I put on a smile and say, “Okay, no problem.”

  “What’s on your agenda for the day?” he asks me.

  “I’m about to go to—”

  “Yeah, I’ll call him back now,” I hear Nate say to someone in the background, cutting me off in the process.

  My fake smile from moments ago turns into a thin line as I press my lips together. Like normal, he’s not even listening to a thing I say.

  “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to run,” he tells me.

  “Okay.”

  “Love you. Bye.” He doesn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath to quiet the anger simmering inside of me. It’s not him being away that upsets me. Travel is a part of his job. I knew that going in. It’s his lack of attention and presence even when he is here.

  My head rolls back from side to side as I attempt to push away the frustrations building inside. Lydia always notices when I’m in an off mood. She’s not as easy to convince as our other two friends, Paige and Scarlett, and sees through the forced smile. Sometimes I can’t stand it. It’s easier to believe the lie yourself when you have those around you convinced. So on the drive to her house, I focus on the picture at the bottom of the stairs and pretend I’m still that twenty-one-year-old, love-struck girl who had a guy that made me the center of his world.

  “Hey! How’s the mom-to-be feeling today?” I ask as I give Lydia a big hug.

  She lets out a huff of air when we release each other. “Tired. I’m ready for this to be over and for the baby to be here already.”

  A small chuckle escapes before I say, “You’re only in your second trimester.”

  Her shoulders slump forward. “Don’t remind me.”

  We walk through the foyer and into the kitchen. She has a seat on one of the barstools, so I sit next to her. She turns to me and looks around as if she’s trying to solve a riddle. “Did you bring food?” she asks.

  “Your favorite.” I reach into my bag and pull out some fried pickles.

  She snatches the bag from my hands before I have a second to set them down, causing me to laugh again. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” she mumbles around a mouthful of food.

  “Maybe a time or two.” I shake my head at her in amusement. You’d think she hadn’t eaten in a week with the way she’s inha
ling them.

  “Hey, how’s it going, Charlotte?” Marcus asks as he enters the room. With his tall, broad frame, light brown hair, and hazel eyes, he’s a very attractive man. Add in his sense of humor and it’s easy to see why Lydia fell for him.

  “Good,” I respond.

  He walks past me and leans down to give Lydia a kiss. When he pulls back, they’re caught in this moment and I feel like a voyeur. They stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. She has a small smile on her lips while he strokes her cheek with his thumb.

  “I’m going to run to the gym, do you need anything?” he asks her.

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m good. Charlotte brought food.”

  He grins. “I see. Okay, I’ll be back in a few then. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  He leans down again to kiss her goodbye with his hand on her stomach before he leaves.

  And there it is.

  The jealousy within is clawing at my insides, threatening to crack the small smile I have firmly in place as I watch their exchange. I am happy for her, but can’t help wanting that for my own life. To have my husband look at me the way Marcus does her. To start a family with the one I love.

  “You okay?” Lydia asks me.

  I snap back to reality and slip into my happy role. “Of course, I’m fine.”

  She tilts her head and arches her brow, and I know yet again she’s calling me out on my bullshit. “You know I’m not buying it, so you might as well spill.”

  I roll my eyes and let out a sigh. “It’s nothing really. Nate called and won’t be home until tomorrow.” I shrug. “It’s just the norm.”

  “You said you were going to leave him at my reception; that was three months ago. Are you guys trying to work it out?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. He hasn’t been home much, and I’m scared to do it.”

  Her eyebrows pull in. “Why?”

  “Because once I tell him I want a divorce, there’s no going back. You can’t unring that bell. Plus, a part of me is terrified he’ll be indifferent. What if he doesn’t really care? That would crush me.”

  “Who cares what his response might be? You have to do what’s right for you and your happiness.” I sit in silence and absorb her words. “Do you love him?”

  Her question catches me off guard for a moment. “I think I’ll always love him regardless of what happens in the future. But if it’s not reciprocated, what’s the point in staying?”

  “What about a separation or counseling?” she asks.

  “Half the time I feel like we are already separated, and there’s no way he’d go for counseling.”

  She gives me a sad smile and places her hand over mine. “I wish I had some advice for you, but you have to figure this one out for yourself. Just know that I’m always here for you, okay?”

  “I know.”

  And that’s the end of it. We move on to lighter topics, leaving this one behind, but it’s in the back of my mind taunting me. Because I know eventually, I’ll have to make one of the biggest decisions of my life, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it.

  NATE WILL BE home soon, and like always, there’s this glimmer of hope that things will be different when he walks through the front door. It’s not that he’s abusive or mistreats me, he’s just indifferent. It wasn’t always like this though. As I put on a coat of lipstick, my mind travels back to the first time he ever touched my lips.

  “Tell me something about you,” he says to me. We’re both lying on top of the hood of his car, looking up at the stars. There’s not a car in sight and everything around us is still and calm. It’s perfect.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask.

  I see him turn on his side toward me from the corner of my eye, so I mimic his movement. “Everything,” he responds as he seemingly stares into my soul.

  Cupping my face, he brings his lips within an inch of mine and pauses, waiting for me to make the final move. When I do, I forget how to breathe. He’s gentle with the way he works my mouth with his, but there’s an undercurrent of pure need that has me clutching his shirt and pulling him toward me.

  I have an ache that won’t be soothed by what we’re doing now, but all too soon he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. The only thing I can hear is the rapid beating of my heart as our chests rise and fall in the still of the night.

  “Damn,” he says before leaning back. “You’ve ruined me.”

  Even seven years later, thinking about it makes my stomach flutter. We’d only been together for about a month at that point, but I remember knowing then I’d marry him one day. I was right when we ended up saying our vows after two years of dating. Too bad the fairytale he set up for us didn’t last.

  I hear the garage door open, so I make my way downstairs to check on dinner.

  “Hey, my love,” he greets when he walks in the door. There was a time when that phrase would give me butterflies and bring a smile to my face. Now, not so much. What used to make me feel like I belonged to him is now just words uttered out of habit with no meaning.

  “How’d everything go?”

  He walks toward me and gives me a peck on the cheek while I stare at the timer on the oven. Tonight almost feels like a special occasion since Nate is actually home for dinner. He’s married to his job, and I’m his mistress. If he’s not out of town, he works long hours and stumbles in not a minute before seven. It’s pretty lonely around here, and even when he is home, it’s like he’s not.

  Standing in my stilettos, I bend over and pull the chicken parmigiana rollatini out of the oven as soon as it beeps. After plating each dish, I smooth my hands down my little black dress, grab our plates, and bring them out to the dining room where Nate is waiting.

  My smile as I enter the room dies on my lips when he doesn’t even spare me a glance. I watch him with a combination of disgust and disappointment once I’ve sat down as he shovels food into his mouth while his eyes never shift from his phone.

  I repress the sigh that threatens to surface and try to engage him in conversation. “Your mom called today. She wanted to know what our plans were for Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he responds, still looking down at the piece of technology I’ve grown to loathe.

  “She wanted to know if you were going to spend that weekend at the office or if we were coming down to visit them.”

  “Sounds great, my love.”

  He never brings his eyes up to meet mine, making me feel insignificant, but this has become the norm.

  And I’m sick of it.

  Setting my fork down and pushing my plate out of the way, I fold my arms and rest them on the table. “I’ve also decided to pick up prostitution as a part-time gig. You know, give myself some extra spending money around the holidays.”

  “Good.”

  As soon as that word is out of his mouth, I snap. I’ve spent so much time holding back my feelings, hoping things will get better.

  They’re not.

  It’s time to take control of my life and my happiness, and if that means I have to do it alone, then so be it.

  “I want a divorce.” I expected to feel heartbroken after I utter the words, but I don’t. I feel relieved.

  “Okay, sweetie.”

  I slam my hand against the middle of the table to get his attention, an uncharacteristic move on my part. He startles and finally looks up at me. “Did you hear a damn thing I just said to you?” My words drip with anger, but I doubt he picks up on it.

  “Of course,” he insists.

  I cross my arms over my chest and arch a brow at him. “Then what did I say?” I challenge.

  “Uh, you mentioned my mom.” His eyes dart around, like the answer to my question lies in this dining room somewhere.

  “Let me fill you in on what you missed. I. Want. A. Divorce.” My face goes void of emotion as I stare at the man I swore to dedicate my life to.

  Disbelief crosses over to pain as I stare into his light-blue eyes, wa
tching as the wind is knocked out of him. It’s like a dagger to the heart to be the one to hurt the man I’ve loved most of my adult life, but I can’t be the one suffering to spare him his feelings.

  The look of bewilderment can only be described as soul shattering as neither of us says anything after my declaration, and the longer we sit in silence, the harder it becomes not to back down.

  His mouth opens and closes several times, like he’s about to say something, but all he does is shake his head slowly with wide eyes that eventually tear up.

  I have to look away. The heartache written all over him is something I’ve been feeling for quite some time, but it’s different when you know you’re inflicting that emotion onto someone you care about.

  Oh, God.

  Can I go through with this?

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I try to hold in the tears as the back of my eyes start to sting.

  Why?

  When I glance back up, I can tell it’s the one question he has, but is too afraid to ask. My lips part to offer him some kind of explanation, but then close again.

  I can’t do this right now.

  “I’m sorry,” I barely get out as I stand from the table and rush back upstairs. Once I get to our bedroom, I quietly close the door and lean back against it.

  If this is what I want, then why does it hurt so damn bad?

  With eyes closed, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself and be clear about my decision. A soft knock on the other side of the door startles me, causing my eyes to snap open.

  “Charlotte?” He sounds so dejected, the complete opposite of the man I’ve known all these years. He’s always been so strong and confident; it’s one of the things that drew me to him. But with that one broken word, he’s become weak and unsure.

  Swallowing hard, I turn around and open the door slowly. You know when you’re so hurt you’re certain your heart has stopped beating? If there was ever an image to go along with that feeling, I’m staring at it. Eyes that used to hold me captive are glossed over while his mouth is slack with disbelief.

  “Why?” he whispers.