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I look down and check my phone finding a thumbs up message from Shelby. I text her back letting her know we just left the restaurant and will be back at the house soon. At least this part of the plan was easy to work out. She hacks into his computer and sends the emails whenever she knows I’m with him. That way we can ensure he isn’t using his laptop when she does.
“I’ll be skipping classes on Wednesday for a meeting with my dad before the masquerade. Do you have everything you need?” he asks, drawing me out of my thoughts. I drop my phone in my lap quickly and look over at him.
“Yes, my father is sending the jet to pick me up Wednesday night. My mother and aunt have already bought my dress and mask. They’ve agreed to meet you there so we can walk in together.”
He hums his approval. “Colors?” I turn my head so he can’t see the way I roll my eyes.
“Black dress, black lace mask with red details,” I answer dutifully. I’ve never known a guy to care so goddamn much.
“Perfect,” he compliments. “I want you in gold jewelry.”
“Of course.” This conversation is tedious and I’d rather stab him with a fork, but it’s all a part of the game. Let him think he broke me. It’s better to lose a little bit of my pride at my discretion, than to lose my life at his. His beatings were only going to head to a point of no return if something didn’t change.
We pull up to the house and he hops out, quickly making his way around to open my car door. What a joke. A true gentleman doesn’t punch a woman. But who cares what happens behind closed doors, right? I let him take my hand in his as we walk up the front porch and through the door.
It’s chaos as we open the door and find most of the guys from the house, and a few I recognize from the fraternity that don’t live here, in the living room with the television on. They’re watching a news report about the stock market and the chattering of side conversations is almost deafening. None of them even notice our arrival.
My eyes go wide. I think I may know what has everyone in such a state. I turn to watch Carson but only see confusion in his gaze. He shakes it off and drags me up the stairs toward his room. Just as we hit the stairs, his phone begins to ring.
He curses as he checks to see who it is that’s calling. He waits to answer it until we are in his room with the door closed.
“I thought we had a few more days until the deal went through?” he demands as he shoves me onto his bed, giving me a warning look. I stay utterly quiet, completely expressionless as I watch him carry on his conversation, getting more and more frustrated with each word.
This is why he was going home early. They thought they could stop a deal from going through, take it for themselves, but the timeline was sped up. Without any warning, the Crawfords have just lost another million dollar deal. That must sting.
I continue to listen to his argument with who I’m assuming is his father’s assistant. I just barely manage to tamper back the smirk when I hear the Halstead name. Carson is going to have a hell of a time keeping him in line now that this has happened. It’s realistically not enough to put his family as high on the pyramid as the Crawfords, but it sure is enough to give him a massive ego boost. Enough of one that he won’t be happy staying Carson’s bitch boy for long. Especially seeing as how the deal was meant for him in the first place. A little project he had started all on his own to gain his father’s favor.
He ends the phone call after making plans to leave that day. They have quite a bit of damage control to do now before their stocks drop even further. As soon as he hangs it up, he throws his phone across the room.
“Months,” he sneers. “Months of work and planning all for it to go up in flames.”
I stay silent as a mouse, curling my legs up under me. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him this angry. He picks up more things around the room, throwing them at the walls as he pants in rage, cursing to himself about the time wasted.
His eyes land on me curled up on his bed and I grimace as he stalks toward me. He pulls me up by my shirt and I can hear the fabric begin to stretch and tear as he uses it to shake me. “Why the fuck is everything going wrong?” he shouts in my face.
“I- I don’t know,” I stammer out, licking my lips to help the dryness subside. I’m at a loss of what to say or how to react, or even what to expect. His fist tightens on my shirt and he yanks me off his bed, throwing me toward the floor. I stumble on my feet and almost catch myself, but as my shirt tears I fall forward and hit the sharp corner of his dresser. I cry out as it slams painfully into my ribcage.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses as he wraps his hand around my face, covering my mouth and drags me back to his chest. “The last thing I need is those fuckers down there to hear you. To have one more thing to try and use against me.” My ripped shirt falls in tatters to the floor at my feet, leaving me only in my lace bra, more exposed than I could ever be comfortable with in his presence.
“I don’t have time for this,” he curses. “Clean this shit up and pack me a bag. I have work that needs to be done.” He shoves me away from him as I nod to agree.
Better to get his bag packed first so he can leave sooner. I can always clean up the mess after he’s gone. I go into his closet and pull down one of his bags to start filling it with bare necessities. He’s heading home to a closet full of even more clothes than this.
Only a few minutes have passed and I’ve filled his bag with essential items and all the toiletries from his bathroom. I make my way back to his closet to finish up when he storms into the closet and shoves me out of his way. “Business, Brielle,” he snaps. “I’m going for business and you didn’t think to pack a fucking suit?”
He throws the bag, making everything fall out of it. I bite my tongue, not like I can really point out how stupid it would be to shove a suit into a duffle bag, but okay.
“Why the fuck is everyone so useless? Can’t you do one damn thing right?” he yells, pushing me into the wall and following after me. “It was such a simple request,” he sneers in my face, trapping me against the wall. My shoulders curl in on themselves despite myself and he scoffs in disgust. “Fucking useless.”
I clear my throat and point to the suit hanging behind him, already in a bag ready for him to take with him. “That one is ready for you to take.” I keep my voice mild, attempting to diffuse the situation rather than incur more of his wrath. Should have known better.
“You could have said that in the first place instead of making it seem like I’m the unreasonable one.” I keep my eyes on the ground, not wanting him to see the fire in mine, ready to punch him back. Just a little longer. All the pieces are almost in their places. It won’t matter if I’m not here to carry out the plan. It’s because of that I don’t see the back hand coming. Don’t prepare myself for it.
My head snaps to the side with the force of his hit and I stumble. Before I can catch myself, he shoves me again and my shoulder slams into the wall. Fuck. “You’re looking down on me too, aren’t you?”
My vision whites out as pain lances through my shoulder and my arm hangs uselessly at my side. I whimper and shake my head as I look down to find it hanging at an odd angle, the pain radiating with each bare hint of a movement. Fuck. I can barely breathe as I wrap my other arm around it and try to keep it in place, cradling it to my side.
Carson scoffs, ignoring me, and for now, it’s for the best. I know better than to think I’m getting an apology or any help off of him. In this state, I can't take another hit. I’m already virtually defenseless with my bum arm.
