Ignoring my question, he goes on, “You ever do anything like that again, I’ll beat you black and blue.”
I don’t need to see if there’s sincerity in his eyes. I know he’s not bluffing. He’s done it before and I have the slightest crook in my nose to prove it. He’d only lost control the one time, when I was fifteen and we’d come close to losing the house. If Charlie hadn’t intervened and brought me to the ER, my face and body bloodied and bruised, I don’t know what would have happened. She’d thought he was going to kill me. I was never totally sure she’d been wrong.
Dad hadn’t hit any of us again since, but I know the violence is still in him. Always simmering right below the surface. He wears the threat of it like an expensive coat, showing it off, keeping it on display so we never forget what he’s capable of. I’m staring the danger in the eye again right now.
Swallowing hard, I stop fighting, hoping my submission will prompt him to let me go. The roots of my hair twist against my scalp. He breathes heavily in my ear.
“Okay, okay,” I finally say softly. “I understand.”
If he’s waiting for an apology, he won’t get one. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
“You’re lucky Dante took you off my hands. You’ve been back what, four months, and I’m already tired of seeing your face.”
With one last painful jerk of my hair, he shoves me away from him and stumbles back toward the party lights, leaving me to cradle the back of my scalp. Gulping down a sob, I realize that I’m behind the vineyard’s offices. I hurry to the back door and punch in the access code, then make my way to the receptionist’s desk and pick up the phone. My hand trembles as I hold the receiver to my ear…and start to second-guess what I’m doing.
Charlie is still running the party, but I know she’d send her husband Clayton to pick me up right away and bring me over to their place to stay. Problem is, she’d corner me as soon as she got home later, demanding explanations—explanations that I know she deserves. Dante had kept the whole surprise ex-husband thing pretty discrete, even in the chaos of the confrontation. Which I do appreciate, but obviously it was only a temporary reprieve. Even though it’s Charlie, and I know she won’t judge me, I’m in no shape to spill all my secrets tonight.
I set the receiver back on its cradle and take a deep breath.
On autopilot, I make my way to Dante’s office door, the knob cold in my grip. It’s unlocked, the room still and scented with my husband’s cologne as I slip inside. Moonlight spills through the windows, a hazy silver. I walk absently around the room, dragging my fingers on the smooth edge of his desk, hugging myself as I look out the window, my stomach clenched in grief and panic. I stumble to the leather couch on the far wall, grab the knit throw from the back, and curl up on the cushions.
Everything that’s happened tonight rushes at me all over again, filling my brain and flooding my body. My scalp burns where my father pulled my hair. My heart stumbles like it’s been punched. Any chance I ever had of really connecting with Dante is gone.
I pull the blanket tighter around me, but the smell of his cologne only gets stronger—and now I’m thinking of how we’d fucked on it not two days ago. I’d come in after working all day in the tasting room to find him sitting right here, going over the press releases for the upcoming event. He’d looked so intense, so sexy, that I couldn’t stop myself from putting my hands all over him. Unbuttoning his shirt, sliding my underwear to the floor, hiking up my skirt to straddle him. To take him deep, his fingers gripping my ass hard, his cock grinding into me as we tried to muffle our heavy breathing. We’d loved—really loved—each other so good.
I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it, even now. He’d been different that day. More focused on me. Maybe we weren’t in love, but in that moment, I felt like we’d been on the way to something like it. Until tonight.
Now I’ll never know.
Amidst all my pain, though, is the uneasiness of seeing the way Dante acted just after Rico showed up. It chills me how he’d put on a show so easily in front of people, pretending everything was fine between us, acting like the same attentive and demonstrative husband he’d been in the hours before he’d found out about my betrayal. He was so believable. The lying seemed so natural for him. How do I know that he hasn’t been putting on an act the entire time we’ve been married? How can I ever trust his actions again?
Not that it even matters, I tell myself. He’ll never let me behind that granite façade again. Whatever had been growing between us is dead and gone.
The night ticks on, and somehow I manage to fall asleep.
I’mawoken by voices outside in the hallway, feeling disoriented as I roll over on the couch and remember where I am. Everything that happened last night comes back to me in a sick rush.
I recognize Dante’s voice, followed by the receptionist Ruby’s softer tones. I have a flutter of panic. I didn’t intend to fall asleep on the couch in his office, but I really had nowhere else to go. I’m just pushing myself into a sitting position when the door opens.
Dante walks in but I don’t move, too tired and heartsick to care. He stops short at the sight of me, his eyes pinned to my face, then dropping lower. I glance down and heat floods my face. My left breast must have slipped from the neckline of my dress in my sleep, and it’s now almost completely exposed. I pull the blanket tighter around me and look away. I’m glad Ruby isn’t here to see me in this state.
Clearing his throat, Dante moves to his desk and takes a seat, giving me the cold shoulder like he did last night. I feel an ache in the center of my chest as if my heart is actually bruised.
“I’m not going to listen to any begging or excuses,” he says flatly.
I swallow with difficulty because my throat is so dry. “I don’t have any begging or excuses in me.” It’s the truth.
He meets my gaze over the top of his laptop and stares at me so long and so intently that I have the urge to squirm, but I steel myself. I’m determined not to let my fear and uncertainty show. Not to him.
Finally, he looks away and begins tapping on his laptop. He busies himself while I sit there frozen, unsure what to do next. Time and silence stretch between us. Inside I’m panicking. I have no idea what to do with my body, what to do with my life. How to get my clothes, my makeup, my things packed up. Where to go.
“I’ve given it some thought, and unfortunately we’ll need to keep up appearances for the investors,” Dante suddenly says, as if picking up a conversation we were already having. I just nod. “Luckily, after last night’s performance, they’re sold on us being a loving couple.” His voice drips with distaste over the words.
“Okay. So…what do you want me to do?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. As if my entire life isn’t imploding before my eyes.
“You’ll be moving into the guesthouse. Maintaining the fiction of our happy marriage. At least for now.”
I feel numb as I nod. “Okay.”
