Love: Uncivilized (Uncivilized, #1.5)

“Sorry,” I said without really any apology as I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Moira. “I really need to make this dinner.”


It rang and rang as I walk toward the door. When her voice mail picked up, I disconnected and redialed. Moira and I had a system. We were both often too busy or wrapped up in something and couldn’t answer the phone right away. If it was really important, we just dialed right back again. A second call meant it was important, and we made every effort to answer it.

Lila stepped back from the doorway just as Moira’s voice mail picked up again. I halted, redialed once more, and put the phone to my ear. My eyes cut over to Lila, but she kept her own lowered in a futile attempt to give me privacy. I got Moira’s voice mail for a third time, and it was then, without a doubt, that I knew I was being ignored.

Disconnecting, I lowered the phone, slowly sliding it in my pocket while guilt and anger warred within me. I was trying to make it right, and she was avoiding me. My beautiful, brilliant, but stubborn, wife was giving me the cold shoulder.

The old Zach would jet on home, pull her ass out of bed, and spank her before I fucked the ornery out of her. But all of a sudden, that just felt like too much effort on my part. I turned back toward my desk and threw my jacket on one of my guest chairs. “Let me know when the food gets here,” I said absently to Lila.

“Sure,” she discreetly responded. “And I’ll stick around until you finish in case you need something else.”

“Thanks,” I muttered and slumped down in my seat, in some ways hoping it would take me hours to review the prospectus and avoid the imminent argument that I knew would be coming when I got home.

It turns out that it didn’t take me all that long to go through the new prospectus. The mistake had been well identified, and the new figures were easy enough to reconcile. I had one small change to a graphic that I thought would pack a better punch in a bar form, but otherwise, I finished it before I even finished eating my food. Of course, I invited Lila to join me. She sat on the opposite side of my desk while we munched on a Thai peanut quinoa salad, and we went over the next day’s agenda. That, of course, led to discussion about preparation for the next day’s meetings, and we made some tweaks to a few reports that would be presented. Before I knew it, it was almost ten PM, and I felt incredibly guilty for keeping Lila working that late.

“Shit,” I said as I glanced at my watch. “I can’t believe the time. I’m really sorry, Lila.”

“No worries,” she said with a bright smile. She then stretched a bit, arching her back, which pushed her breasts out against the tight cut of her white, silk blouse. For the first time, I noticed that Lila was a very sexy woman.

I wasn’t sure she was always that way. I meant yeah… she was really pretty with dark brown hair and golden eyes. When I hired her almost ten months ago, she didn’t quite dress that way, favoring dark suits with blouses buttoned up to her neck. She often wore her hair in a tight bun and sported eyeglasses. Again, pretty woman… the severe, business-like suits not able to take away from that, but she was Ivy-league educated, a hard-as-hell worker, and had glowing recommendations. I didn’t give a fuck what she looked like, but now, sitting here, I was starting to wonder when things changed.

When she started going a bit sexier in her clothes.

Wearing hear hair down.

Ditching the glasses.

Calling me Zach.

Spending late nights working when I did.

Becoming the person I had call my wife to cancel on time and again.

Fuck… that couldn’t be—

Nope… no fucking way. Wasn’t even going to consider that.

I got up and hastily packed my briefcase, telling Lila in my most-professional tone, “Miss Hendrick… make sure you submit your overtime. You get time and a half.”

She looked hurt when I said that and even tried to argue. “But Zach… that’s not necessary—”

“No, I insist,” I said, and then got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Now, standing outside the door to my bedroom where I share a marriage bed with Moira, I suddenly feel exhausted. I got the distinct impression tonight that Lila was coming on to me a bit, or was trying to get me to notice her, and this would normally be something I’d lay out to Moira to help me figure out what to do. But now I’m feeling the distance that has come between us over the last few months, and I know, without a doubt, that I can’t talk to her about Lila because she’s already pissed as hell at me.