June
Ishould be thrilled to have a closet filled with high-end designer clothes.
But nothing feels right.
Probably because it’s not my stuff.
Guilt hangs in my chest. Whenever I start to feel bad for myself, I remember
Marnie’s lying in a hospital somewhere. It’s like an anchor’s been lifted from around
my ankles knowing she’s okay, but I can’t forgive myself for what happened to her.
For now, I have to focus.
Once Rafe is gone, I find a Gucci duffle bag and pack it with essentials, anything
that might survive a hike through the barrens. When that’s done, I leave it hidden
under the mess I made. I doubt Rafe will clean this up anytime soon.
He’ll think I’m being stubborn and a pain in his ass, which is exactly what I want.
Then I pick up Hattie and take her down for dinner. Byron’s still busily cooking
and seems delighted that we want to eat in the kitchen. He talks about cooking at
high-end restaurants all over Paris and does silly impressions of loud, annoying
French people for Hattie, who loves it. The
food’s incredible too, and by the time I take my daughter back up for bed, I’m
feeling full and satisfied, almost lulled to complacency.
Hattie goes down easily. I slip into the main bedroom, find something to wear, and
steal back into the hall. I’m walking toward the bathroom when I feel him behind me.
“Where are you going, June?”
I look over my shoulder. Rafe’s standing in our bedroom door. Where the heck did
he come from? For such a massive man, he moves like a whisper.
“To bed with my daughter.”
“Not tonight.”
“Rafe—“
“No.” He st eps forward. “There will be whispers and I will not have that. My wife
sle eps in my bed.”
“You can’t force me.”
“I think I can.” There’s no threat in the way he’s looking at me, only certainty. Like
there’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll get what he wants.
“What’s this game we’re playing? What’s the point? You know I don’t want to be
here.”
“You’ll learn.”
“Go to hell.”
“How about I offer you something instead.”
I pause, shoulders tense. “You don’t have anything I want.”
“Actually, I do.” He holds up a phone. “You can call your friend.”
Oh god. My resolve slips. I turn, hope and desperation filling me, but I know this is
a trick. He’s using Marnie to get his way, and isn’t that sick? Isn’t that fucked up?
But I don’t care. I want it anyway.
“Right now?”
“In the morning. It’s late. She’s asle ep already.”
“How do you know that?”
The phone disappears into his pocket. “Come to bed, wife. I’ll let you talk to your
friend tomorrow if you’re good.”
Shit. I glance at Hattie’s door. I don’t want to leave her alone, but I don’t think
she’s in danger. For all Rafe’s faults, he hasn’t threatened her. If anything, he seems
intent on being some kind of father to her, which I haven’t processed yet.
“We set rules.” I brush past him and head back into the master. I sit on the edge of
the bed. It’s massive and softer than a cloud. I mentally curse myself for loving how
comfortable it feels. “No touching. You stay on your side.”
“I suspect you’ll break that before I do.”
“No talking either. I’m not interested in chatting.”
“I’m not much of a conversationalist.”
“I’ve noticed.” I drum my fingers against my knee, trying hard not to glance over
at the closet. I don’t want him to guess that I’m thinking about the hidden bag. “I
don’t only want to call Marnie once. I want to talk to her every day.”
“That can be arranged.”
“And I want to message Beth to let her know I’m fine.”
“I find that acc eptable.”
“And—“ I take a de ep breath, thinking maybe he’s being reasonable for once. “And
this marriage? I’ll play along, but only until Hattie’s old enough to go to college. Then
we’re finished and I’m free.”
I realize my mistake immediately. His face shuts down. It goes blank and dark, and
he slowly closes the door behind him before turning and coming toward me.
“You don’t seem to understand.” I lean away, heart pattering as he looms, a
gorgeous monster in a tight black t-shirt. I swear I can see the outline of each
individual ab muscle and there are like fifty of them. “You and me are forever, June.”
“There’s no reason for that. Marriages end all the time—“
“Mine don’t.”
For a beat, I’m afraid he’s going to grab me, but instead he drops to his knees in
front of me, hands to either side of my thighs, hemming me in.
We’re nearly eye height now. He’s a few inches lower, thanks to the tall bed. I’m
breathing fast, startled by his intensity, remembering the way he went down on me
that first night. It was so long ago, years now, but every moment, every touch is
seared into my brain.
I’ve craved him so many times. It’s pathetic, I know. Almost sick, how badly I’ve
wanted to relive that pleasure. I’ve touched myself again and again remembering his
mouth, his dick between my legs, his moans in my ears. The most erotic and blissful
night of my life, but I’ll never have it again.
Even now, inches away from him, I can’t let myself.
“Why can’t we be reasonable about this?” I whisper, fear and desire fighting in my
heart.
“Nothing about my life is reasonable. I’ve given up so much to be where I am, and
I will continue to sacrifice until there’s nothing left.”
“You’ll ask that of me, too?”
“No, wife. I’ll shield you from the worst. You and my daughter will be sheltered,
protected, loved. Worshipped, if you let me.”
“I don’t... I can’t...” God, what does he mean?
Worshipped?
The way he’s down on his knees, the gleam in his expression, the way he’s looking
at me like he’s going to break if I try to es cape—
He really means all this craziness.
That’s the scariest part.
Every word is true.
He looks wrecked with how much he wants me, and that makes my heart thrill in
return.
I’ve never had someone care about me so much. Not even Grandma, and she was
the best thing that ever happened to me.
But whatever Rafe’s feeling, it’s not real.
It’s not healthy.
And it’ll break me if I let it.
“All I want is my life back. That’s all I want.”
“Your life is with me now.” His fingers curl, gripping the sheets. It pulls me closer
to him slightly. His face almost between my thighs. I bite my lip to ke ep from
groaning at the thought of him diving in, kissing me, nibbling.
“You’ll get sick of me. You’ll change your mind.”
“No, I won’t.”
“What about Hattie? How will you explain that you kidnapped her mother?”
“She’ll grow to understand one day.”
“I won’t.”
He leans closer and breathes as if filling himself with my scent. “But you will too,
wife.”
Then he pushes back and stands. My face is at crotch height and he’s rock hard,
the outline of his massive dick straining against his tight joggers. My mouth opens at
the memory of that monstrous cock filling me again and again, and I’m shivering as
he walks away and disappears into the bathroom.
I hurriedly climb into bed. Screw this. I can’t handle talking to him anymore. It’s
ridiculous, the way I want him. I curl up, pulling the covers over my head like a child
hiding from imaginary monsters.
But mine’s not fake.
He’s nowhere near a dream.
Rafe’s the real thing. An actual demon.
The bed doesn’t make a sound as he gets into his side. He clicks off the light,
plunging the room into darkness.
I stay still, trying to sle ep, but trapped listening to him breathing, aware he’s
doing the same to me and wondering how this is ever going to work if I can’t even
close my eyes when he’s around.
If I can’t stop myself from diving headlong into my own ruin with him.