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A loud crack sounded behind her. The sound of splitting wood.
She climbed faster, unable to see behind, but her best guess was that someone had kicked the bathroom door down.
Firm fingers wrapped around her ankle. She screamed, the hard tug of that hand crushing and leaving her to cling to the window sill for literal life. She kicked, trying to get him to let go, already exhausted.
“Stupid, fucking bitch!” Anthony’s voice tore into her like the physical blow of a heavy blade.
The tugging got harder, leaving her panicked like he’d tear her in half if she didn’t let go. But it didn’t come to that. No. He kept the tug of war going until his size and weight won, her arms so fatigued she let go.
She fell from the window, her head smacking into the tile wall on the way down. She’d made the wrong choice. Shouldn’t have attempted a quick escape. Maybe she should have stayed in her room and called for help. Her shoulder, the not-so-good one, hit the raised bath’s edge, prying a great cry from her. One she’d never known herself capable of making.
But that cry held so much more than the pain of her fall. Pure hatred stared back at her from Anthony’s glacial blue eyes, his perfect teeth bared in a sneer, his overly tanned skin, and that too straight and pointed nose… She froze. Wanted to curl up. To give up. To cower and admit defeat.
But fear and defeat alone would not be enough for this man. No. He grabbed her hair and dragged her out of that bath, removing her option to give up.
“I told you to come outside.” He shoved her over the broken door and into the hallway, making sure to jerk the hand clutching at her hair as he went, her scalp burning. “You never could listen, could you?”
Cold fear held her hostage, and even then, she wanted to get through this. She wanted to live.
They were in the living room now. Doing as he commanded. Always as he commanded. Like the universe conspired to help only the truly horrible people in this world.
“We had it good, Emilia.” His breath stunk of cigarettes, and he shoved her so she fell to the floor, cornered between him and the fireplace. “Now look what you made me do. You should have just stuck to being my sweet, obedient wife, huh?”
For a brief time, this room had held nothing but happy memories. Of her and Blaine.Oh, God. Blaine. She’d let him down. And as if to mirror her thoughts, Anthony added, “And then you went and stuffed everything up.”
He stood over her and tilted his head to one side, mocking, sneering again. “You know what I’m here for, don’t you?”
She shook her head, her stomach roiling at the sick joy backlighting his icy stare. He relished her fear. Would set her up to fail so he could get off on punishing her every wrong move. Just like he always had.
“They’ve taken all my money, but you’re about to help me get it back, aren’t you, honey?” He nudged her leg with the pointed tip of his snakeskin shoe, shaking his head. “Look at you, pathetic.”
Her chest ached from the strain of her panic and having to force each staggered breath, but her only hope would be to stall until help arrived, or they burned in this house together. “What do you need me to do?”
He crouched down, getting on her level, though a stream of warm blood now dripped from where her head had hit the bathroom wall, down the side of her neck, and onto her dress.
“Well to start, you’re going to call the bank and tell them who you are.” His gaze dropped to her lips, his mouth already too close to hers, her throat clogging at the thought of him trying to kiss her. “And trust me, honey, that’s just the start. You’ll get back my money or die trying.”
“They’ll never believe me.” Her voice twisted, hopeless and hollow. Pathetic. Just as he described.
Never had she imagined her life ending at the hands of a man who’d stood before all their family and friends and promised to love her forever. And over something so trivial as money. “Anthony, I don’t have the authority to get your money back.”
He shrugged way too casually, grabbed the back of her neck, and jerked her forward so their lips almost touched. “You’ll figure it out, Em, because you don’t have any other choice. You see, I had to get help to find you, and you know how business works. Everyone wants to be paid. So, you’re going to return every last fucking penny, do you understand?”
She gave a shaky nod, her breaths staggered, her muscles weak and trembling. She knew enough about Anthony to understand “the help” meant he’d hired some very dangerous people.
But even if she could get his money, she wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t make good on his promise to let her be free.
He released her with a shove, his demeanor falling to tense control before he dragged a cell phone from his black-zippered jacket.
“I’m more use to you alive.” She spoke while he stabbed at the phone’s touch screen.
“Don’t overestimate your value,” he mumbled, his tone flat and careless as he held the phone to his ear, then shifted it to hers. “Just take the fucking call.”
A dial tone left her to wait, but she refused to fall into a fragile mess amidst the uncertainty of this moment. Not just yet, anyway. “If the bank doesn’t budge, call my dad, okay?”
“Just shut the fuck up and do what I tell you.” He glared at her, genuine disgust directed her way.
Sweat trickled down the side of her forehead, the scent of smoke creeping in from the other side of the house. She wanted to make him feel like she was cooperating, that she wanted to make nice, though to what end beyond not dying, she had no clue. “What do I say when someone picks up?”
