Home For a Cowboy Christmas(17)

The door to his office suddenly opened. Tony, Joe’s best friend since grade school, worked as his consigliere or advisor. Tony helped mediate on occasion, but more than that, he represented the family in all business dealings—both criminal and legitimate. Joe knew that Tony had his back. Always.

“She’s coming,” Tony stated with a flat look.

Joe steeled himself for his wife’s entrance. Stella had once been a beautiful woman. Coming from a crime family in New Jersey, she was well acquainted with the lifestyle. It hadn’t been a love match. Their union was born of a joint venture that’d helped both his family and hers.

While they hadn’t been in love, they had been civil. They’d even had a few somewhat happy years in the marriage. That all ended when they learned that she couldn’t bear children. Joe wanted to pass on the business to his kids, but others in his family could take up the reins. He’d been disappointed in the news, but he had accepted it.

Stella hadn’t been able to handle it.

First, she’d immersed herself in finding other ways to have children. No matter how many doctors told her that it wasn’t possible, she simply went to another one, hoping someone would tell her what she wanted to hear. From one end of the country to the other, she spent mountains of money trying to find an operation or some form of fertility drug that would allow her to carry a child.

She came back heartbroken.

Joe suggested they adopt, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, she locked herself in their room and didn’t come out for weeks. He could’ve broken down the door—and had he loved her, he might have—but he had a business to run. He couldn’t hold her hand as she dealt with her grief.

Weeks turned to months. Stella sank deeper and deeper into depression. Doctors put her on all kinds of medication to help, but nothing stirred her. When she finally emerged, she drank. Heavily. She imbibed until she passed out and then started it all over the next day. It got to be so bad that Joe stopped having any social events at the house because she had embarrassed him on several occasions.

That’s when Joe bought another house. One he could conduct business and entertain in without having to worry about his wife making an ass of herself. He allowed her access to a large bank account to get whatever she wanted—be it jewels or booze. So long as she left him alone.

The arrangement had worked great. Until the few times she decided to get sober. Then, she demanded that he return home. He always refused, and they had loud arguments where she accused him of cheating, and he called her a drunk. Within a week, she would be hitting the booze again.

The cycle had been ongoing for the last two years, and Joe was tired of it. He was past tired of it. He had cheated. He’d never denied that. What was he supposed to do? Wait for her to sober up? Because he didn’t particularly care to have sex with someone who had passed out. He had needs.

He was a man, after all.

The door flew open as Stella strode in. The years of heavy drinking had taken a toll on her beauty. No longer did she glow with vitality. Her skin was pale and haggard. Her blond hair dull and brittle. She once carried herself well, but now she appeared frail and shrunken. Her clothes hung off her from drinking instead of eating proper meals.

“Joe,” she said as she walked to the chair before his desk and sat.

Tony closed the door behind her, briefly meeting Joe’s gaze. Joe eyed his wife. “This is a surprise.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He didn’t argue, just sat there waiting to see what she would say next.

Stella crossed her legs and set her Chanel purse on the floor. For the first time, he noticed that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. The ten-carat diamond had cost him a fortune, but it had been worth it to have a union with her family.

“I’m not happy,” she declared.

Joe didn’t have time for this. “Neither am I. I haven’t been for some time.”

“Then we should do something about it.”

“All right. Does that mean you’ll check into a rehab facility and get yourself straight?”

She huffed, her gaze narrowing. “Actually, I am going to rehab.”

“That’s good to hear. I don’t care what it costs. I’ll send you anywhere you want to go,” he said and reached for his pen to get back to work. It was his way of dismissing her.

“Yes, you are going to pay for it.”

Something in her words stopped him cold. He raised his gaze to hers. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s been a month since I took my last drink. A month where I waited for you to check in on me. It didn’t take long to learn that you haven’t stepped foot in our house in over seven months. I knew you had another place, but I honestly believed you came home.”

“Why would I?” he asked. “You were so drunk, you didn’t know who I was. You ran your mouth constantly until you passed out. You picked fights and threw things. Why would anyone want to be around that?”

“I needed help.”

“I tried to help you. Each time I did, you refused.”

Stella quirked a brow. “I don’t think you tried very hard.”

“Probably not.” He shrugged, glad that the debate was over. He looked down at the paper, wanting to get back to work. “At least, you’ve got yourself in order now. When you’re sorted out, you can take your place by my side again.”