Page 35 of Desperate Measures

And when I’d ask them the same question in turn, I was often met with confusion.

But one of the definitions of diet was simply an eating plan, which we all had every single day.

Anyway, the point was I was a big girl. That wasn’t changing.

And if my gorgeous husband didn’t like my body, then he could just keep on staying away from it.

I bit my lip, unhappy with this train of thought.

Had he found me lacking?

Shit.

I really didn’t want to know.

He hadn’t slept at home for days now. He’d been working through most nights, claiming the time difference from his month in China was fucking with his sleep pattern.

He would come to bed when I was leaving for work. But I wondered what was going to happen starting Monday when we started working together.

Like he promised, the morning after our wedding night, he sent me a partnership deal for ODI.

It seemed my husband was being modest when he spoke about the exciting things his business was building. The fact was nanotechnology and computer engineering were things I’d only thought about in terms of theories while getting my degree.

But it was exactly the kind of cutting-edge tech I wanted to work on. Just thinking about the applications of nano batteries and quantum computers made my pulse race.

If we moved now, we could be in the front lines, pushing the boundaries of what was possible in electronics, computing, power supplies and data storage.

Nanotech helped build smaller, faster, and more efficient components. Liam was all about the batteries, but reading his proposal I saw even more opportunities and I was determined to tell him.

With the right pitch and the power to maintain operations abroad, O’Doyle Industries could be a driving force pushing the future of computing technology forward. Being a part of that was like a dream. It was a phenomenal opportunity.

Naturally, I signed the document. I sent it back to him, cc’ing the lawyer who drew up the partnership and Liam acknowledged it with a thumbs-up emoji.

Today, I was supposed to see my father, to quit my job at Volkov Industries.

I dressed with care. Choosing an expensive, lightweight, ivory wool crepe suit with wide-legged pants and a single breasted jacket, I felt confident that I looked professional and adult.

Being inside my father’s office always made me feel like a child, so that part was important. I looked at my left hand, frowning as my gaze flicked to the diamond solitaire Margaret O’Doyle gave me just sitting there.

No. That wouldn’t do.

I removed the ring and dropped it in a crystal bowl on the dresser.

Moving into the condo was easier than I thought.

I held no sentimental value toward any of the furniture in my old place and it was more a matter of bringing clothes and toiletries over here, which I’d been doing a little at a time.

Shelly had been texting and leaving messages whenever she had a chance, which thankfully, with her career, was not that often. And everyone else was busy with finals, or work, or the upcoming holiday.

I usually looked forward to thanksgiving, but I had a feeling this year might be a little different for me.

Shit.

I wondered for the tenth time if maybe things would have been easier if I just let Margaret O’Doyle tell my folks what happened. If I hadn’t asked her to protect my secret.

But I was a Volkov, and my word meant something.

I made that shark of a woman a promise, and I’d keep it, period.