Page 47 of Stolen Vows
He doesn’t respond.
Throwing myself at him, I beat at his chest with the sides of my fists. I’m not a confrontational person, and the irony is not lost on me that every instance of violence I’ve mustered in my life has been in his presence. Almost as if he brings it out in me.
I hit solid muscle, and my wrists ache with the pummeling, but he doesn’t even fight back. He just stands there, taking it, even when I put all my weight into the punches and shove him against the wall.
It’s not until he grips my wrists and pulls me into an embrace that I realize we aren’t alone. A few auction staff members have ambled outside the ballroom, and they’ve gathered down the hall, murmuring among themselves, interrupting my outburst.
It takes even longer for me to realize I’m crying.
You’re pathetic, Stella. You should just give up and go home with him. Stop trying to be something more than what you are.
Eventually, I wear myself out. The grief of failure presses down on the center of my chest, and my arms drop to my sides in defeat. Leo releases me, and I step out of his reach, wanting distance between us. Especially when he steps forward, seeming to seek something else from me.
“Please don’t.” The words are barely audible, and I think he might ignore me, as usual.
Except this time, he stays put and leans his back against the wall. “Stella, I?—”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
Leo’s brows rise, and he nods, pushing toward me. “Okay, we can?—”
“Alone.” I turn, crossing my arms over my chest, shielding my breasts. With everything else that’s happened, I almost forgot the risqué number Valerie packed in my overnight bag, and I regret putting it on now. It feels wildly inappropriate. “Please, Leo. I just need a minute.”
His jaw tenses, emotion clouding his gray eyes. “One minute. Then you come back to me.”
I press my mouth into a thin line of compliance, then shuffle down the hall before he can change his mind. Once I’m past the corner across from the main grand staircase of the mansion, I take a sharp right turn and disappear down a shorter corridor, looping around and coming to a door marked as off-limits to the general public.
Running right into Genevieve.
She’s in a gorgeous black gown, her dark hair pulled back from her striking slender face. A simmering smile lifts her mouth as her glittering eyes meet mine, but then she pauses, taking in my state of disarray.
“Mon Dieu!What did that horrible man do to you?”
Sniffling, I just shake my head. “Nothing. I’m just pissed because I didn’t get the item I wanted.”
“Aw, my poor little puppy. Do you need Mommy to comfort you?”
My face contorts. “I wish you wouldn’t call yourself that.”
“Well, I wish youwould.” Sighing, she cools herself with a dark orange paper fan. “Still, I understand your loyalty to your husband, even if I disagree with you needing to be.”
I squint at her. “Why?”
“Because it’s a terrible shame that a woman as soft and beautiful as you is stuck with a brute like him. Especially one who makes you cry.” My mouth opens to protest, but she waves the fan at me. “Don’t lie to me a second time, please. I’m not stupid.”
She steps forward, pressing a palm to my cheek and lifting my face. For a moment, I think she’s going to kiss me again, and I don’t mind one bit. A part of me even wants it, seeing as I know it’d make Leo mad. But I don’t want to get her into trouble, and it wouldn’t solve anything.
Instead of kissing me, however, she swipes her thumb beneath my eye, wiping away a tear. “The real question is, how are you going to make him regret hurting you?”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t mean with me. Though I’d love to help, I’m afraid my services have already been purchased for the evening.” She grins again, squeezing my cheeks slightly. “Maybe yours should be up for grabs as well.”
This is likely a terrible decision—notmy worst, but definitely the most impulsive. I don’t even give myself time to think it all the way through, revenge clouding my judgment as I push open the private door and slip inside.
It’s almost pitch-black in the room, and a haze fills the air, although I’m not sure if it’s from smoking paraphernalia or if the auction runners added it for dramatic effect. The connecting hall is short, and I come to a complete stop at the edge of the stage, where the auctioneer seems to be bringing the night to a close.
My hands tremble as I place one heel onto the stage. I inhale slowly, letting the events of the past twenty-four hours filter through my veins. I think about my wedding night and the one after that ended in shame.
