The meals he’s ordered for me were foods I hate or can’t eat because of my allergy. The ten-grand engagement ring is a sign of ownership and class. It’s also the ugliest ring I’ve ever laideyes on. There’s no way in hell I’m ever being seen with that thing on my finger. Also, he purposely left out the details about buying me clothes I can’t fit in. When I told him they weren’t my size, he had something to say about that.
“Think of it as motivation for when you melt off that weight,”he’d said.
We have very different worldviews where finances are concerned as well. Money never meant anything to me. I’d rather struggle in life and have the best time while doing so. It’s unfortunate I can’t do that right now, as I’m trying to escape this rotten bastard across from me.
Has Justin ever gone to a carnival during the summer? Has he shared cotton candy with someone he likes while talking about something other than money, power, or sex? Did he ever skinny-dip after his friends dared him?
No. I don’t think he has, and it shows.
But back to the matter at hand...I treat Justin like a stranger because he is one. “Maybe you should call off the wedding then,” I say.
“Oh, please, Madison.” Justin scoffs. “You don’t need to be so dramatic and emotional.”
My fingers curl in my lap. It takes every bit of self-control to keep my mouth shut. If I insult him, I’ll only prove him right about beingemotional. He’ll then go to my father and tell him everything I said and how ungrateful I am, and then I’ll have to deal with Dad laying into me when I go home. I have way more important things to deal with than my volatile father.
Justin sweeps his gaze around the room, drawing out a long pause. He’s good at building my anxiety until I’m dreading what he’ll say next. Only two other couples sit at tables, quietly chatting while enjoying their expensive meals made up of small portions.
Justin returns his attention to me and sits a little straighter. He keeps his voice lowered as he says, “What happened to the ring, wife?”
I force a smile. “Must’ve slipped off my finger when I wasn’t paying attention.”
Justin arches an eyebrow and glances at my left hand. He doesn’t need to say what he’s thinking out loud because it’s clear as day on his face.
“I had it fitted to you perfectly,” he says.
I shift in my seat and wince at the dull pain in my bottom. Warmth crawls up my neck, forcing me to avert my gaze so he doesn’t see my shame. If he found out what my brother did to me, he’d kill Ryder, then me.
“Well?” Justin snaps.
“What do you want me to say?”
“You can first apologize to me, then lose the attitude and be the docile wife you’re supposed to be.” Justin’s phone vibrates, and he picks it up to read the message.
My cheeks flush. I glare at him while he’s too busy texting. “I’m not your wife.”
“Yet,” he says without looking up. “But you will be soon. Now apologize so we can move on from this and have a better morning.”
I relax as much as I can into my seat while keeping my lips sealed.
No way in hell am I giving him what he wants.
Justin lowers his phone and peeks at me from beneath his lashes. If he weren’t glaring at me, I would have thought he was cute. All that ugliness in his heart makes his outward appearance disgusting.
“Is this what you really want to do?” he says.
I fold my arms across my chest, refusing to look away from him as we have a staring contest. I hate looking into people’seyes because it brings way too much anxiety, but I can be stubborn when I want to be. Justin tends to bring that stubborn side out of me.
My fiancé tucks his phone into his jacket pocket and stands. He checks the room and smooths the wrinkles over his chest before closing the small space between us in a single stride. He grabs my upper arm and ignores my surprised yelp as he jerks me out of my seat.
“Don’t create a scene, wife,” he growls in my ear.
I stumble to keep up with him while he drags me away from the table. Partly from the strong drink I had, but also because Justin is treating me like a rag doll as he rushes me through the dining area to the restrooms in the back.
“Let go of me,” I snap.
Ignoring me, he opens the men’s bathroom and shoves me inside. The door shuts behind him, and he locks the deadbolt. My stomach sinks with dread. I back away from him and check the area for another door or even a window to slip through.
Warning bells go off in my head.
