Chapter 3
1093 Words
CHAPTER 3
VINCENT PRESCOTT
Natalie stared at the anonymous message until the words blurred.
Ask your husband what happened the night you disappeared.
That was supposed to be impossible.
She hadn't disappeared.
She'd had an accident.
At least, that's what everyone kept telling her.
“Natalie?”
She locked her phone.
Chloe noticed.
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you pretend you're fine when you're obviously about to do something stupid.”
Natalie swung her legs carefully over the side of the bed.
“I need clothes.”
Chloe's eyes widened. “You're going somewhere?”
“I'm going home.”
“You've been awake for approximately twenty minutes.”
“Exactly. I've wasted enough time.”
“Natalie, you have a head injury.”
“And a husband.”
“That is not a medical emergency.”
“It might be.”
Before Chloe could argue, the door opened.
Vincent walked in.
His eyes immediately dropped to Natalie's bare feet touching the floor.
“What are you doing?”
Natalie straightened.
“Leaving.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“No?”
“You're not leaving the hospital yet.”
She stared at him.
There it was again.
That calm, commanding voice.
Like people simply did what Vincent Prescott said.
Natalie had never liked men who assumed authority was a personality.
“Interesting,” she said. “I don't remember giving you permission to make decisions for me.”
His expression remained flat.
“You nearly collapsed getting out of bed.”
“How do you know?”
“I was standing outside.”
Natalie paused.
“You were standing outside my door?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vincent didn't answer immediately.
That was becoming a habit.
Natalie folded her arms.
“Do you stalk all your wives, or am I special?”
Chloe made a strangled sound behind her.
Vincent's gaze shifted briefly toward her.
“Can we have a moment?”
Chloe immediately grabbed her bag.
“Absolutely.”
Natalie whipped around. “Chloe!”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“You're abandoning me?”
“I'm giving you privacy with your mysterious billionaire husband.”
“He's not mysterious. He's annoying.”
Vincent's eyebrow lifted.
Chloe smiled.
“I'll be outside.”
The door shut.
Natalie glared at Vincent.
“You're enjoying this.”
“Not particularly.”
“Liar.”
He looked at her for a long second.
Then his gaze moved to the phone in her hand.
“Who contacted you?”
Natalie froze.
“How do you know someone contacted me?”
“Because you stopped arguing with Chloe.”
Her eyes narrowed.
That was irritatingly observant.
“Maybe I got a text from my dentist.”
“You don't have a dentist.”
Natalie's mouth fell open.
“What?”
Vincent said nothing.
“You know my dentist?”
“I know most things about you.”
“That isn't comforting.”
“It wasn't intended to be.”
Natalie stared at him.
Then she smiled.
Not warmly.
“Okay, Mr. Prescott.”
His expression shifted at the name.
Good.
She'd found something.
“If you know so much about me, you can answer one question.”
“Ask.”
“What happened the night I disappeared?”
Silence.
Vincent's entire body went still.
Natalie watched him carefully.
There.
That reaction.
She hadn't needed a confession.
She had her answer.
Something happened.
Something Vincent didn't want her to remember.
“You knew,” she whispered.
His eyes met hers.
“Natalie—”
“You knew I disappeared.”
“Yes.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your doctor advised against overwhelming you.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
Natalie stepped closer.
“What happened that night?”
He looked at her for several seconds.
Then he said quietly, “You were frightened.”
Natalie's breath caught.
“Of what?”
Vincent didn't answer.
“Of who?”
Still nothing.
“Was it you?”
His eyes snapped to hers.
The silence was answer enough.
Natalie stepped back.
Vincent immediately said, “No.”
“Then why did you look at me like that?”
“Because I know what you're thinking.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
His voice had changed.
It was lower now.
Less CEO.
More man.
“You think I hurt you.”
Natalie swallowed.
“Did you?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
For some reason, she believed him.
That didn't mean she trusted him.
There was a difference.
Vincent reached into his coat and pulled out a small black envelope.
He placed it on the table.
Natalie stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Something you left with me.”
“Before the accident?”
“Yes.”
“What's inside?”
“Something you told me to keep until you remembered.”
Natalie's pulse jumped.
She reached for it.
Vincent's hand covered the envelope first.
Their eyes met.
“Not yet.”
Natalie's temper flared.
“You don't get to decide that.”
“You're right.”
He released it.
“But once you open it, you can't pretend you don't know.”
Natalie stared at him.
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
Vincent's eyes held hers.
“It's supposed to give you a choice.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
Natalie looked down at the envelope.
Then back at him.
“Vincent.”
He stopped.
“Did I love you?”
His shoulders went rigid.
Natalie waited.
Slowly, he turned.
For several seconds, he simply looked at her.
Then his voice came quietly.
“You asked me that yesterday.”
“I don't remember yesterday.”
“I know.”
“And you still didn't answer.”
Vincent's expression softened for the briefest moment.
“You were very determined to hate me yesterday.”
Natalie's eyebrows pulled together.
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
“Did it work?”
His mouth almost curved.
“No.”
Then he left.
Natalie stared at the closed door.
Her gaze dropped to the black envelope.
There was handwriting across the front.
Her handwriting.
Four words.
**OPEN WHEN YOU TRUST HIM.**
Natalie went very still.
Because underneath those words, in smaller writing, was another sentence.
**And if you don't trust him, find out why you did.**
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