“How much longer is this going to continue? What you’re doing is embarrassing for both of us,” he says as he crosses the room.
I take a step back, the floorboards squeaking under my feet. “You’re violating the order of protection. You need to leave.”
He ignores me. “I’m done with the bullshit. I’ve been more than patient, more than understanding about this whole thing. But you’re taking this way too fucking far, and it needs to stop.”
“You’ve been understanding? About what?” I don’t like the wild look in his eyes, or the way he doesn’t seem to be tracking quite the way he should. I glance down. My phone is only a few feet away, almost within reach, but I don’t want to take my eyes off him, and I don’t like that he’s between me and the front door. There’s a sliding door in my bedroom, but that’s on the other side of the cabin.
“You and thiskidyou’re fucking.” He spits the words, like they taste sour in his mouth.
“That’s none of your business, is it?”
He takes another step closer, and my only option is to back up, moving me farther from the front door, but marginallycloser to the bedroom. I’ll still have to cross the living room to get there, though.
He sneers, and his voice is mostly a growl. “Have you forgotten? You’re stillmywife.”
I keep my hold on the bottle of champagne. If nothing else, it’ll make a good, albeit expensive, weapon. “Not willingly! It’s been two years since we separated.” And at this moment, I realize today is the anniversary of the day I packed a bag and left him.
“I’m not giving you a divorce, Clover. You don’t get to run away from me anymore.”
“You can’t hold me hostage forever.” I glance at the clock on the stove. It’s already after eight. It only takes an hour or so to get here, and I told Maverick I would message when I arrived. He’ll worry if he doesn’t hear from me soon.
“Oh, I can, and I absolutely will.” His lips curl into a sneer as he reaches the island, and he slams his fist on the counter. “You aremyfuckingwife!”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Why won’t you just let me go, Gabriel?”
“Because you are mine, and you don’t get to decide when you’re done with me. I’ve waited two years for you to come to your senses.”
I’ve never seen him unhinged like this. “I’ve already moved on.” I motion between us, bottle of champagne still fisted in my other hand. “We are over.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not over until I say we’re over. I’m done being patient. I should’ve burned this goddamn place to the ground when I realized what you were doing.”
“What?”
“I know you’ve been sneaking out here for months with that little shit. Playing house. Whatever plan you think youhave, it’s going to be awfully hard to execute if this place is a pile of ash.”
My phone lights up on the floor, and I glance down as Maverick’s name flashes across the screen. I should have messaged him as soon as I pulled into the driveway. I always forget to take it off the do-not-disturb setting when I’m done in the car.
The momentary distraction is all it takes. Gabriel darts around the counter, and I raise the champagne bottle. His face is a mask of fury, and he grabs my wrist on the downswing. I lose my grip and the bottle flies out of my hand, smashing on the kitchen floor. Shards of glass skitter across the tile and ping off the cabinets.
At first, I panic, and all those self-defense moves I learned with Maverick fly out the window. Gabriel grabs me by the hair, fingers anchoring near my scalp, and spins me around. When my cheek hits the counter, stars burst in my vision with the pain.
Real fear settles under my skin as Gabriel’s legs bracket mine, feet pressed against my heels, knees on either side of mine, pinning me against the lower cabinets on the island. I’m bent over the edge, chest pressed flat against the granite counter. He grabs my arm with his other hand, fingers digging into the skin as he forces it to the counter, holding me down.
The front door is open a few inches, and I spot the gas can sitting just inside the cabin on the shoe mat.
“What are you doing?” I struggle to keep my voice even.
“Helping you make better decisions.” His fingers slide along the back of my scalp, nails digging in, keeping me pinned to the counter.
Pain shoots across the side of my face. “You’re hurting me,” I grit out.
“I know. How does it feel to be the one with no control,Clover?” I try to shrink away as his lips brush my ear. “Sometimes tough love is the only way to get through to someone like you.”
The teapot on the counter is just beyond my reach. If I were a few inches closer, I could grab it. There’s a pencil next to it. It’s one of Maverick’s mechanical ones. We used it to record our scores when we played Scrabble the last time we were here.
My phone buzzes on the floor again. This time with a call.
“Someone wants your attention. I think he’s had enough of it, don’t you?”
