He shook his head and walked away.
I clenched my jaw, wanting more than anything to go after him. To beat him to a bloody pulp. And if it weren’t for the fact that Tori needed me, I would have.
Back in the car, I held my wife tightly against my chest. She’d murmured a few nonsense words and I’d managed to get some water into her, so I knew she would be okay. As angry as I was, though, it was myself that I was really furious with. If only I could be honest with her. Keep her protected and safe at all times.
After Anja’s disappearance all those years ago, it was impossible for me to feel comfortable with Tori out of my sight. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. She didn’t belong in my world, even if she deserved all the good things it afforded her. If only there wasn’t so much tension between us. If only she could trust me. If only I could trust her. But there was no way I could tell her the truth. It would only put her in more danger.
At least I could hold her in my arms, even if it was only for the moment. It might be the best I could get, considering all the bad blood between us.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I hadn’t been able to protect Anja. How she’d been taken from me right when I thought we’d finally found our freedom in each other. I hadn’t been able to save her. But I had been a child then, just seventeen, with no resources of my own.
Things were different now, though. I was a powerful man. I had money at my disposal. Money and connections and ways to protect the things I cared about.
I would keep her safe. That’s all I needed to focus on. And if I had to hire a million bodyguards or keep her locked up in our condo in order to do it, then that’s what I’d do.
She just needed to trust me. Needed to trust that I was doing all of this for her own good.
The truth hit me hard.
I cared about her. A great deal.
The worst thing I could imagine was losing her.
And it scared the shit out of me.
Tori
Chapter 9
Iwoke with a jolt, blinking rapidly at my surroundings. It took a second to realize I was home. In the guest room—my room. The last thing I remembered was feeling sick at the club, the way the floor had rushed up to meet my face, the image of Stefan that had burned itself into my mind as the world went black. But no. It had to have been wishful thinking in my state of panic. There was no way my husband had been there last night. How had I even gotten home?
Gavin. He must have dropped me off. I’d said he could babysit me, and I knew he’d taken the job seriously. He definitely would have gone looking for me after I disappeared on the way to the bathroom. Thank god for him. I’d turned my phone off last night so Stefan wouldn’t know where I was, and look what had happened. It was something I now regretted, in light of the awful night I’d had. But hindsight was 20/20 like that.
Why was my mind so obliterated? How many drinks had I had? I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember much of anything at all. Not clearly, anyway. Just random flashes.
I’d gone out dancing with friends from school, that much was certain. There was dancing, I was pretty sure, and plenty of cocktails and shots, which Gavin had been in charge of.
Gavin.
We’d danced a little. Flirted a lot.
After that, though…
It was all a blur. Except Stefan’s face, the one clear thing I’d seen in the crowd before I passed out. I’d definitely fallen, though—I looked down and saw I had bruises on my knees, and when I gingerly rubbed the side of my sore head, I found a knot there from where I must have hit it against the floor. Yet all I could recall about the night’s end was the nausea that had swept through me and the hazy image of my husband looming overhead.
Unsteadily, I got to my feet, but sank right back down on the mattress as a massive headache pounded against my skull. My whole body felt weak and shaky. What the hell had happened to me last night? There was nothing but blank space where most of my memories should have been. I had so many questions, and zero answers.
There was a glass of water on the bedside table and I drank it down, gulping greedily, my mouth dry and vaguely sour. My phone was sitting there too, still turned off. I thought about turning it back on, but I really wasn’t in the mood to see the angry, disapproving texts Stefan had undoubtedly sent me when he realized I wasn’t coming to dinner. We were probably in a huge fight now, and since it was Saturday I wouldn’t even be able to hide out at school all day. The last thing I wanted to do right now was face him over the breakfast table, silently seething at me from three feet away.
So I took a long, hot shower. Maybe he’d be out of the house by the time I was done.
When I got out, I felt slightly better. It was almost 10 am, the time I was usually heading out the door to go to yoga. If Stefan was here, he’d be at the kitchen table with his coffee, reading the news on his tablet, but I crossed my fingers and hoped I was home alone. There was no way I’d make it through the day without my coffee.
I picked up my phone, debating whether I was ready to turn it back on.
I couldn’t face the embarrassment of texting Gavin to ask what had happened. Had I thrown myself at him in my state of intoxication? And if so, had he reciprocated? What if we’d hooked up on the dance floor, right in front of everyone? What if my friends had seen me cheat on my husband? There was no way I could text them now and ask. Even if it wasn’t true, they’d think it was if I claimed to be too hungover to remember what I’d done the night before.
God, this was such a mess.
