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“I don’t need my name bandied about in the society pages, or to be driven around in a Rolls for people to know who I am and respect me.”
“Winston.” Grace ventured into the fray, touching her husband’s arm. “Let’s go inside—”
“There are different forms of respect.” Winston ignored his wife, his lips twisted as he sneered at his son. “You look like a drug lord with Arturo driving you everywhere in that thing.”
I glanced at Martin, catching his slight flinch. I think his father knew what Martin did and who his connections were. They had a conversation similar to this one nearly every time we came over, but usually those conversations happened around the dining table, not outside in front of the house.
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree about what I do, what I drive around in, and how it looks to you.” Martin’s fingers dug deeper into my flesh. Being at his parents’ house inevitably made him angry, and when he was angry, he was crueler to me.
“So long as what you do doesn’t taint the Skellin legacy.” His father’s gaze went razor sharp, like his son’s did when he was delivering a threat.
“I have given you my assurance before,” Martin said, his tone snippy.
“And yet we’re gathered here tonight and forced to accept more from you that is a threat to our reputation and all I have strived to build.”
His father gave me another withering glance, but I didn’t shrink under it. I’d received so much worse from his son. It was a pattern. Receiving his father’s derision, Martin passed it on to me. Maybe it was all he knew, but knowing the reason for his behavior didn’t excuse it, nor did it make it any easier to take.
As Winston turned to go into the house, Martin put his mouth to my ear. “Be on your best behavior. Remember what’s at stake.”
News about Rachel. I remembered.
I longed for that news, had yearned for it as much as Martin craved his father’s always out-of-reach approval. I hadn’t heard from her since the one day I was allowed to call her from Martin’s phone. Saying words he’d forced me to say while Martin stood beside me, watching and wanting me to disobey so he could punish me ...
• • •
“Why, Addy?” she’d cried. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“Daniel’s too old for you, Rach. You’re too different. He has everything and you have nothing. Not even your career anymore.”
I didn’t want her to get trapped like I was. There was truth to what I said, even if I said it because Martin made me.
“I won’t sign the papers so you can marry him. You shouldn’t marry him. You shouldn’t even be living with him without a backup plan. What if things go bad?”
Rachel scoffed. “You and your plans. Daniel loves me. Things won’t go bad.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” The world was even crueler and far less stable than I’d assumed.
“I know him.” She sniffed. “You said you liked him. That you agreed with my choice.”
“I said I was predisposed to like him because you did.” I used the same cool tone Martin did when he ordered me to make this phone call.
“What’s really going on?” Rachel asked, trying to look after me like old times. But old times were gone, never to return. “You’ve been avoiding me ever since the day you made pancakes for us. I had to pick out my wedding dress alone. You make excuses every time I try to see you. Are you sure you’re really happy with Martin? It seems to me that you’re isolated and alone. He’s cut you off from everyone you care about.”
That was exactly what he’d done, and he’d begun that process from the very beginning, ever since I’d finally agreed to have sex with him. One by one, he took away all my options until he was all that remained.
“Have you even talked to Barry at all since then?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head as though she could see me. I’d been locked up inside Martin’s penthouse without a way to escape or communicate with anyone since that day.
“He’s obsessed and possessive.” Angry and disappointed with me, Rachel probably wore a crease between her brows. “I don’t like it. I don’t like him for you. I never have.”
Knowing who she did like, I had to ask. “How is Barry?”
I gulped as Martin moved closer. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have believed Martin when he’d assured me no further harm would come to Barry, that Arturo and Dimitri would only escort him from the premises if I left the kitchen and made small talk with Daniel and my sister about their upcoming plans. Martin had held my hand, pretending we were at the beginning of a relationship, and that he was my boyfriend. But that was for appearance’s sake only. Totally deceiving.
“I wouldn’t really know,” she said. “The last time I saw him was on your birthday. As I’ve mentioned before, I still have the present he gave me to give you.”
“I can’t have it,” I said quickly.
