“Gavin. This is more than a fucking rough patch. This is about me waking up and realizing the years of neglect, lack of respect, and feeling like I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“It’s about your new boyfriend too, isn’t it?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, challenging his hard gaze. “Leave Beckham out of this,” I said angrily.
Gavin reached into his back pocket. “I can’t do that. Not when he’s at the center of it, now can I? And what will your parents say when they realize the sex exhibit is about you and the man you’ve been having an affair with, huh?”
“So what if it is? Let the whole world know because then I’ll finally be free from you!” I raged.
Gavin scrolled through his phone before he stopped and turned the phone towards me.
Looking down at it in confusion, my blood immediately went cold at the sight. I couldn’t look away, and yet all I wanted to do was turn and vomit.
Gavin let out a humorless chuckle and placed a hand on my lower back. It sent another wave of chills through my body, but I still couldn’t move.
I couldn’t move as I watched the horrifying video of me and Beckham having sex in his warehouse through a window. At that moment, all I could think about was my career, my future flashing before my eyes. My stomach clenched so hard I thought I would be sick right there on his office floor.
“Free from me, hmmm?” Gavin muttered beside me.
I was absolutely speechless. The paintings, photos, and sculptures were all of a mystery woman who may or may not be me in the eyes of the public.
And that was the bright side of things. I could deny all the allegations of the similarities between me and the woman in the paintings… but this? This I wouldn’t be able to lie about to a judge, to a jury, to my parents, to my employees, to the media, toanyone… Not when I was caught clear as day cheating with Beckham.
“I wonder what kind of headline this would make,” Gavin taunted.“‘Cheating Wife, Once A Respected Curator and Businesswoman, Caught Spreading Her Legs in Her Client’s Warehouse’?Or maybe just…‘Whore’?I think I like that better. Short, sweet and to the point.”
“Where did you get this?” I whispered.
Gavin put his phone away. “Does it matter?” He grabbed my jaw and forced me closer to him. Brent, most likely hiding somewhere in the corner of the room, sucked in a breath, but I didn’t flinch as I stared daggers into Gavin’s eyes. “Like I said before. Just because you’ve found yourself a little boyfriend, Rosenna… doesn’t mean you’re still not my wife.You are still mine.”
“And you have lost your fucking mind,” I gritted out though my teeth.
His grip tightened as he leaned in.
“Well, maybe I have. And maybe when I send this video out for everyone to see, you’ll know what it feels like to have your trust betrayed… So here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to be at that lunch like the loving wife you once were, and I will save us the trouble of a shitshow by not showing your parents what their daughter does in her spare time… And while you’re at it, try to keep your legs closed instead of giving into him like a little slut—”
I slapped him.
Gavin let go of my chin as his hand went to his red cheek. He looked over at me as he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion almost. But I didn’t let it bother me as I turned away and stormed out of the office, not bothering to spare Brent a glance as he watched me silently.
Chapter forty-three
Rosenna
WhenIarrivedatVincent Garcia’s building, the receptionist directed me to the elevator. I took it to Vincent’s floor, leaning against the wall with my hand against my forehead.
I needed to see Beckham. I needed him to hold me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay, for him to tell me Gavin wasn’t going to get away with this, that this blackmail wouldn’t jeopardize my future, that I would still have control over my life even if the people around me were hellbent on controlling it themselves.
It probably wasn’t wise to seek comfort in the arms of a man who’s been controlling my emotions, thoughts, and behaviors ever since I’d met him, but I liked Beckham’s control. I grew to love his possessiveness, even if I had tried to convince both him and myself that I didn’t just a month or so ago.
Stepping out of the elevator, I wiped away my fallen tears, and I feebly attempted to search for Vincent’s office without breaking down. Finding it after a moment, I opened the door, and immediately, Beckham and his father looked over to me.
Beckham stood.
“Mr. Garcia, I’m sorry for intruding—” I began; however, my words were immediately cut short as bile rose to my throat at the memory of me in Gavin’s office only a few hours ago. “Do you have a bathroom or a trash can I can borrow?” I asked in a hurry as my hand went to my rising chest.
“To your left—” Vincent said, confused.
I rushed to the bathroom before sinking to my knees as I heaved into the toilet.
