Yesterday morning, I had a plan. A call to Salvatore to follow up on whether his contacts in Miami had heard anything. Maybe a new thread to pull on the man who attempted to take her. At the very least, I thought I’d spend the day watching the fallout from her disappearance unfold. Watch Victor beg for the safe return of his wife on every major news network that would have him.
I didn’t do any of that.
Instead, I spent the majority of the day in bed with Ariana, memorizing the feel of her skin and every sound she made when she came undone. It was certainly a first for me.
I’d never spent an entire day in bed with someone before. Never relaxed. Never trusted enough to let my guard drop.
But yesterday, with Ariana, I did. It was one of the best days of my life.
Not just because of the sex. Though Christ… The sex. It was good. Better than good. Mind-blowing. Thought-erasing. Body-numbing.
Every time she touched me, it felt like a salve to a wound I didn’t think would ever heal.
Every time I touched her, it felt like a promise.
But that wasn’t what undid me.
It was the connection. The way she looked at me like I was something more than the sum of the blood on my hands. The way she listened. The way she gave herself to me completely.
I didn’t know what to think of it.
I was supposed to hate this woman.
Was supposed to use her to get revenge for what happened to Sarah. The wheels were already in motion. First I’d take his wife. Then I’d dismantle his entire empire.
Yet, that had been the last thing on my mind since the second she kissed me. Since the second I saw the truth staring back at me through her bruises and scars.
My fingers drifted to the curve of her hip, tracing the edge of a scar puckered against soft skin. She stirred slightly, but didn’t fully wake.
“That one was from a wine bottle,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep. “I was too slow to move out of the way.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my jaw clenching at what she endured at the hands of her husband, but I pushed it down. If she was willing to talk about them, I was willing to listen.
“What about these?” I asked, brushing a series of identical scars near her ribcage. Evidence of the pain she survived. Of the war she fought when no one was looking.
She inhaled, slow and steady. “Cigarette burns. He tied me down and used me as an ashtray because I mentioned he smelled like smoke. It wasn’t even meant to be critical. But that didn’t matter. He still reminded me of my place. Of his control.”
I didn’t speak. Didn’t trust myself to. I couldn’t let her see how difficult it was getting to refrain from hunting him down and using him as an ashtray, as a knife sharpener, as a dummy for target practice. The only thing that helped was knowing his time would come. I’d make sure of it.
I continued running my fingers along the scars on her flesh, eventually tracing the abomination he carved into her recently. Because of me. Nothing she said would make me think otherwise. I didn’t care that he’d simply traced over scar tissue that he never allowed to fully heal. It was still my fault Ariana was forced to endure that.
“The first time he cut me was after he caught me talking to one of his board members during some art auction,” she explained without me asking. “I was just trying to be friendly, fit in as the wife of Victor Kane.” I could hear the venom in her voice as she spat out his name. “I’d seen hints of his anger before. You don’t get to be a successful businessman without making a few enemies. But I’d never seen him like that.” Her voice trailed off and I pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.
“The second the door to the house closed and he dismissed our staff for the night, he dragged me to our room. Said I needed a reminder of what I was to him. Then he carved that word intome so I wouldn’t forget. So no one else would ever want me if I left him. But he’d never let me leave him. That night, he made that perfectly clear.”
“Did you ever think about it?”
I wasn’t going to ask why she didn’t leave. I knew why. I witnessed it firsthand myself. For many people trapped in an abusive, manipulative relationship, there was only one way out, and it wasn’t through the front door.
She was quiet for a long while as she shifted onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Outside, snow drifted lazily through the early morning light, a few rays of sun peeking through the heavy blanket of clouds.
“Not really. Not in the way you mean. I may have fantasized about it. About cutting off his dick in his sleep. Watchinghimbleed for once.”
A dark sound rose in my chest, half laugh, half growl. I kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent. “You’ll get your chance,” I vowed.
She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” I replied without a hint of hesitation. “He’ll pay for this. An eye for an eye, Ariana. Everything he made you endure, I’ll do the same to him. He doesn’t get to walk away. Not from this.”
