Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Maynard's gaze grew darker, a hint of something unfathomable flickering in his eyes.

He'd spent years navigating the business world, and women trying to latch onto him were nothing new-actresses like Madeleine, who would slip him a hotel key card in secret, were practically routine. Yet, not once had any of them managed to pique his interest.

His friends, the kind who partied too much and never took anything seriously, liked to tease him about this. “Maynard, you sure you're straight? Don't see you chasing women like the rest of us."

He'd wondered about it himself, on occasion.

After all, his youngest brother, Joseph Holland, was openly gay, and never short of handsome young models on his arm. Maynard had even tagged along to one of Joseph's exclusive clubs, just to test his own boundaries—see if, perhaps, he'd been missing something.

He lasted all of five minutes inside. The flirtatious glances and bold advances from the young men inside had sent his nerves jangling, and he'd practically bolted out the door.

Since then, he'd had no doubts about his orientation. He didn't like men. But, truth be told, he didn't find himself particularly drawn to women either.

At least, not until he met Briony.

It was just like one of those clichés you'd find in a novel: love at first sight, a second encounter sealing his fate.

The very first moment he saw Briony, he knew he liked her. No, more than that, he wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to marry her.

since figured people out. He'd been paraded through countless introductions by his parents,

Briony appeared, everything

meant

dab ointment on his wound, her soft profile so close, the room quiet and the

in truth, he didn't

"Briony," he said quietly.

as he leaned in, closing the

at the last moment she turned her face away. His lips

street, a high-definition camera on a neighboring building

suite, the two

away, stood up abruptly, and wiped her mouth, glaring at him. "Maynard, you

time to explain before

just let

a

outside, his voice edged a moth anxiety. "I'm sorry. It was a moment of madness, of madness,