AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My throat scrapes his palm as I gulp.
He brings his face within inches of mine, staring into my eyes. ‘Tell me.’
He must feel my heart pound against his chest. He knows something happened, but if I don’t tell him the truth, he’ll assume we had sex, which is worse than the truth. So I say, ‘We kissed.’ His eyes twitch. ‘That’s all—‘
‘When?’ he bites out.
‘The night Demi died.’ I see the moment he shuts me out, see the way his eyes darken and spark with rage. ‘We weren’t together then—‘
My back slams into the chest of drawers, sending the tumbler smashing to the floor and the bitter smell of whiskey explodes. I bite down my cry of pain because he’s in front of me again, lifting me up by my throat. I close my eyes, trying to twist away from him. ‘Pleasenotmace,’ I blurt out. 'Not my face.’
I hate every word, but I don’t think Em would stand back and do nothing if I turned up at work with another bruise on my skin.
Archer’s eyes narrow as he weighs my words. And then he drives his fist into my stomach—once, twice, three times. He holds my throat so I can’t move, so I can’t double over and gasp.
I choke, and when he releases me with a shove, I fall against the bed, bending to clutch my stomach. He pushes me again so I collapse against the floor, and I’m still gasping when he sneers, ‘Get dressed, you fucking whore.’ And then he walks out, slamming the door behind him with so much force dust sifts from the top of the frame.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Red
Each breath is like tiny splinters. I think he’s damaged a few vocal cords when he shoved me down, but the worst pain are the cramps in my sides.
I certainly don’t have an appetite; I poke the food with my fork, drowning out the conversation between Ian and Georgia and Archer. I put on the green dress Archer threw at me, but I couldn’t manage makeup; I couldn’t stop crying—
Something warm and thick oozes down my leg.
I quietly excuse myself from the table and rush to the restroom.
One of the cubicles is occupied, so I slam the door closed of the one at the far end, pull up my dress, and sit on the toilet.
Red.
So much red. Down my legs and staining the inside of my dress. Thick clots of it.
Just then my sides cramp, and it’s so excruciating I bite down on my fist to keep from crying out. It feels like someone grabs my uterus andsqueezes. Like my insides are bruised, and every movement leaves me gasping.
I weep as I wipe my panties, my legs, my dress. I hear clots fall into the toilet, and another contraction has my hands pressed flat against the sides of the cubicle as I catch a breath.
‘Excuse me?’ I say thickly, pushing back my sobs for a moment. ‘Do you have any pads?’
The woman in the cubicle flushes, opens her door, and passes a few pads beneath mine. She says nothing as I mumble my thanks, and I bet she wonders why I sound so grateful, but as soon as she leaves the bathroom I’m up and in front of the mirror. It doesn’t matter about the pad, because the back of my dress is covered in blood. Even if I had something to throw around me, I can’t sit down like this, knowing I’d stain the plush velvet cushions—
My abdomen tightens, and I dart back into the cubicle, kneeling down and pressing my forehead against the lid. I suck in air through my teeth, clutching my stomach. As soon as the contraction fades, my mind clears enough to pluck my phone and scroll to his number.
My thumb hovers over the little phone icon. I can’t drive home like this, and I certainly can’t walk. Telling Archer isn’t even an option because he never knew about the pregnancy to begin with.
Chase picks up on the first ring. ‘Where are you?’ His voice is low, angry.
And hearing his voice… it snaps something in me. I sob into the phone.
‘Frankie.’ He sounds panicked now. ‘What’s happened? Are you hurt?’
I press the heel of my hand against my forehead and shake my head. ‘Please,’ I whisper, the word breaking. ‘Please come and get me.’
‘I’m getting in my car.’ I hear a door closing. ‘Tell me where you are.’
‘At the Grosvenor.’
