Riley didn't know why he felt compelled to ask. Seeing the reverent way in which she'd gazed at the other man's picture had told him everything he needed to know. The fact she was married to him was damn little comfort.
"You've got your nerve talking about fidelity to me," he said forcefully, battling the dual demons of anger and pride. Their entire marriage was a farce, only he hadn't been smart enough to figure it out. How incredibly stupid he'd been. Exhaling sharply, Riley felt like the world's biggest fool. For months, she'd had him dangling by a thread, toying with his mind; had him worrying about her, frightened about what had become of her. Their time together, those brief hours he'd treasured beyond all others, had meant nothing to her. Not one damn thing. She'd been looking for him to give her what her fiancé never had; perhaps pretending he was another man the entire time they'd been making love.
She'd used him.
The sickening feeling in his stomach intensified.
"Keep the damn thing out of sight!" he shouted. "You're married to me now, and I won't tolerate having another man's picture in my home. Is that understood?"
Hannah stared at him blankly, her features so pale and drawn he couldn't look at her.
"Throw it away." If she didn't do it, by God, he would. Riley would be damned before he'd allow another man to haunt his marriage. When she didn't immediately comply, he stalked across the room and reached for the photograph.
Hannah let out a small cry, scrambled across the bed and jerked the frame from his reach. From the way she reacted, he might as well have been coming toward her with a chain saw.
"No!" she cried, holding the photograph against her breasts as if it were her most valuable possession. "I'll keep it out of sight… I promise."
He stared at her, wanting with everything in him to smash the photograph to the ground, and with it destroy the memory of the man she loved. He would have done it, but one look told him Hannah would fight him like a wildcat to see that nothing happened to her precious photograph.
He scowled, then turned sharply and walked out of the bedroom and the house, not stopping until he was outside where his three friends were waiting. He forced himself to smile and loop his arms over the shoulders of Burt and Don. There had never been a time in his life when he felt more like getting fall-down-on-his-face drunk.