An Improper Ever After(24)

At first I don't understand. Then it hits me, a shock like I've been backhanded. She didn't want to tell me the truth because she didn't think I'd take her word for it. My whole body tightens in reflex, but I consciously relax, reminding myself of the tumble she took. I don't want to cause her any pain. "It wasn't an accident if somebody pushed you. You should've told me earlier."

"Doesn't matter. Won't find who did it." Her words come out almost garbled, and it's hard to make out what she's saying.

She's right about one thing. We probably won't find the person who did it, unless one of the serving staff or servants happened to see something. But that isn't what stokes my anger. It's the way she turns from me, even though she's clasped in my arms, and the deep shame and disgust I feel for myself at the circumstances I find myself in, the shitty situation in which both of us are mired.

I lay my wife on the bed and strip off her dress, then suck in a sharp breath.

Her injuries are evident-the tender skin starting to bruise around her shoulders, back and hip. Her right knee is going to be at least a medium blue. My body throbs as though I'm the one who rolled down the stairs and had the injuries. If she'd fallen headfirst, she could've died. My hands unsteady, I pull the sheets over her before I lose control and demand that something be done about the fact that she's suffering. She passes out almost immediately. I push her crimson hair away from her face with shaking fingers.

I stand and yank off my tie, my hands rough. I reach into the minibar and help myself to some whiskey, keeping an eye on Belle as she sleeps.

The alcohol dulls the sharp edge of my initial fury. I'm still pissed at the way she behaved, even though I recognize her reaction wasn't entirely without justification. After all, since Paddington's report I've done everything in my power to convince her how little she means to me.

I swirl the liquor around in my glass. I've been trying to convince myself Belle holds no significance in my life. Hearing the truth from her lips hasn't been my primary concern. I've wanted to prove to myself that it didn't mean anything that when Paddington dropped the bombshell, that my anger came from the fact that she lied and misled me, and that her professions of love were most likely a form of manipulation. I didn't think once about my grandfather's painting-the initial reason for our contract marriage. 

And that was unacceptable. Unthinkable.

I didn't want to be that vulnerable to someone.

But now …

I watch her broodingly. Her mumbled apology hurt because it was said in such a sad, resigned voice. I have to accept the truth. I was furious because I'd been thinking something more permanent-maybe even a forever-with my wife. There aren't many women I find admirable … and out of those, Belle is the only one who makes my blood boil with desire.

She's worked so hard to build something for herself and her sister. And her pride …  I laugh softly. She's so damn proud she basically told me to go fuck myself when I offered her three thousand bucks for a night of sex. You'd think that after two years of poverty, she would have jumped at a chance for such easy money.

And I'm not entirely sure if she would've said yes to my wedding offer-and the million dollars that came with it-if it hadn't been for her sister. Nonny is her biggest weakness, and I exploit it shamelessly. But I don't fight fair. I fight to win.

Except … is this a win?

My wife and I are both miserable. I keep telling myself I'm not, but who the hell am I kidding? My focus is shot, I snap at people and I have to force myself to stay away from her until night falls-acting like a fucking vampire-when I finally allow myself to touch her, telling myself I deserve that much, since my lust for her body is the reason I decided to marry her. Nonny's picked up on the tension, and she's acting out in subtle ways, mostly against Belle. That isn't right, but teenagers aren't often concerned with right or wrong.

I finish the whiskey, start to reach for another bottle … then stop. I have to get my head screwed on right. We can't continue like this. Even the resentment I've felt over the possibility of my wife growing indifferent to me is based on my fear that I might drive her away.

Tomorrow I'll take the first step to fixing what is broken between us. I'll ask Belle to explain the circumstance with Grayson from her point of view … and listen to her-calmly-as she talks.

I have to give us this chance or just let her go before she twists me inside out.





Chapter Ten



Annabelle

When I open my eyes, I see an unfamiliar room. I blink, utterly disoriented for a moment. My body aches like I've been in a wrestling match with an ape, I'm naked except for a super tiny thong and I don't know whose bed I'm in.

Panic rushes over me, and suddenly I'm cold to my core. Memories of the last time I found myself awake, not knowing what happened the night before, pour through my mind; it's suddenly hard to breathe through the tightness in my lungs. As tremors rack me, I squeeze my eyes shut. What happened? What am I doing here?