These last months were all about trying something new and finding myself, and maybe this is just the next step. I know one thing is certain: I don’t want to lose myself to the commanding, overwhelming man that’s Creighton Karas. Regardless of what happens next, I need to hold on to the bits and pieces of myself I’ve fought for, because I matter too. This relationship isn’t just about him. If this is going to last beyond the silent ride to the hotel, we need to get clear on that fact.

What did Creighton think when he came back to the penthouse to find it empty? Did he realize he screwed up? Did he go to Nashville first? Is he here to scold me like a child and drag me back by my hair? If that’s the case, he’s in for some severe disappointment. I’m not leaving this tour.

The swirling possibilities are put to rest when he shuts the door to our room, drops our bags, and growls, “Strip.”

My eyes snap to him. This isn’t how I expected this scenario to go. “Excuse me?”

“Do I really need to repeat myself?”

“I thought we were going to talk—” I start, but Creighton interrupts.

“I’m done talking. I’m about to show my wife how I feel about her walking out, not answering her phone, and leaving me to fly to multiple states to track her down.”

“You knew—”

He interrupts again. “You left a note with two words, my dear. Two. Fucking. Words. They might as well have been ‘Fuck you.’”

“Maybe they should have been,” I reply, dumbfounded—and pissed—at his reaction.

“Strip. Now. Or I’ll do it for you.”

His tone is implacable, and in that moment, I know I can’t cave. Maybe it’s fitting that I’m in San Antonio, because this might be my frigging Alamo.

I shake my head. “I’m not playing, Creighton.”

His expression turns feral. “Did something about this situation make you think I’m playing?” He stalks toward me. “You agreed. I call the shots; you follow.”

“That deal went out the window when you made it all too clear that you can’t be bothered to acknowledge I exist except for when it’s convenient for you.”

He jerks his head back as if I just slapped him, and stops mid-stride. “Do you really believe that?”

“After yesterday? What else should I believe? You couldn’t even be bothered to answer a phone call, and you knew I needed to go!”

“I knew you needed to be in Nashville today. That was the plan. I said I’d get you there last night, but something came up. It happens when you run a multi-billion-dollar company, Holly. That’s not going to change.”

“I get that. Even little old me understands that, but what I don’t get is how you couldn’t even take a phone call from me to tell you that plans had changed. I’m on a short leash when it comes to the label. I’ve got no choice but to follow the rules, or I’m screwed. I told you I’d play by your rules, but when you start putting my career at risk because you can’t seem to remember that I have a commitment, that’s where my caring about what you want stops.”

I fling a hand toward the window and the lights of the Majestic Theatre in the distance. “This is my life. This is my one shot at proving to myself that I’m meant for more than serving up greasy food to bowling teams who argue about who has the biggest beer gut and the biggest man boobs. Do you have any idea how fast this could all fall apart for me? Then I’d be right back where I started, and I refuse to let that happen just because I didn’t give this absolutely everything I’ve got.”

“And what makes you think I’d let that happen? That’s not something you need to worry about anymore.” Creighton’s frustration is clear in his tone, but he still doesn’t get it.

“Bull. Your prenup makes it damn clear that I still can’t count on anyone but myself. Besides, I didn’t come this far on my own to start depending on a guy to take care of me now.”

Creighton’s head tilts to the side. “Holly—”

I swing my head back to face him. “No. You don’t understand. Once you put my future on the line, this stops being a game.”

His brow furrows and his features tighten. “I’m well aware this isn’t a game. And I’m also well aware that I’m the one who fucked up by losing track of your schedule. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need to put us back on an even keel the only way I know how.”

I assume he’s talking about sex, because that seems to be the only part of this marriage where we’re compatible. But still, that doesn’t mean I have to like his methods.

I stride into the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, unzipping my right boot before tossing it across the room. Creighton crosses the threshold, and it flies perilously close to his head. It wasn’t my intention, at least not a conscious one. The second boot follows. He says nothing as it whizzes by his left side. A quick glance at his face reveals a crooked smirk. I tug off my boot socks and reach for the zipper on my skirt.

His voice is quieter this time. “Holly, what are you doing?”

“Following orders. What does it look like?”

I shove the skirt and my underwear down over my hips and tug my top over my head. Each article of clothing lands at his feet as I toss them.

I rip the duvet off the king-sized bed and climb up into the middle. I flip onto my back and spread my legs wide.

“Is that good enough for you? Is that stripped enough for you?”

Creighton closes in on the bed. “Are you going to explain this, or am I going to have to guess what you’re trying to accomplish with this stunt?”

“No stunt. I’m just following orders.”

Creighton’s lips twitch into a wolfish grin. “Oh, Holly, you know how to tempt me, that’s not in doubt. But I don’t think this is going to work out quite how you’re thinking.”

I cock my head sideways on the fluffy pillow. “Really? I submit, you fuck me, I come, you come, and then maybe we repeat.”

He tosses the duvet up and over me.

Okay, apparently I’m wrong.

“You make me sound so predictable, my lovely wife, and I can’t have that.”

He circles the bed, sits on the edge with his back to me, and lifts the cordless phone from the receiver.

“Room service, thank you.” Once he’s connected, he says, “A porterhouse and a filet. Medium rare. Two Caesar salads.” He rattles off the name of something I assume is an expensive wine, thanks the individual on the other end, and hangs up.