I can’t say the vile word aloud.
“But they did,” Julia Anderson says, her tone crisp.
“Even if they didn’t, what does it matter?” Barbara waves a dismissive hand. “Who are they to us?”
Loathing creates yet another layer between me and these grotesque creatures. I was happier, and safer, when I was homeless than I am sitting in this nest of vipers.
Eleanor falls right back into the conversation without missing a beat. “To hear Rebecca Mallory tell it, the man is an animal.” She lowers her voice to a loud whisper. “He had sex with her against the wall. Left bruises on her. It’s a scandal.”
Oh my, not against the wall.
I saw worse than that when I was a teenager walking home from Apple Grove Park and had to pass through Mayhem’s red-light district. And seriously, at Eleanor’s age, if she thinks sex against a wall is scandalous, maybe the woman should take a lover. One who’ll rip off those nude stockings, tie her up with them, and expand her horizons.
Oh, and according to the rumor mill, it takes more than a little rough sex to scandalize Rebecca Mallory. She and her district attorney husband are regulars in the Coliseum’s brothel, and they’re into some kinky stuff. But if everyone involved is consenting adults, to each their own.
That’s another reason why David has to die. Because some people are too evil to live.
Not everyone who works in the brothel is consenting.
Nor are they adults.
David truly is a monster.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
Speak of the devil, and he will appear.
I swivel on the plush white chair and beam a false smile at David as he enters the solarium. I’m ever the happy wife when in public. In private, he knows I’d love nothing more than to slit his throat. Guess that’s why he never insisted I move into his bedroom after the wedding.
The cut of David’s beige Tom Ford suit fits his lean frame to perfection. His blond hair, as always, is impeccable. His deceptively handsome face hides a soul black enough to blot out the sun. He comes to stand beside my chair, and the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck rise. He lifts my hand to his lips, his air of crisp arrogance enough to send a chill skittering down my spine. The hint of a frown mars his perfectly plucked eyebrows as he places a feathery kiss on my knuckles.
In my peripheral, I see Julia square her shoulders. Her cheeks flush as she smooths her hands over the floral skirt of her cotton sundress.
“You look lovely.” David drops my hand. His baritone, smooth as silk, has the desired effect. The ladies are charmed by his sickeningly charismatic grin. His veneers are a perfect shade of white and as fake as the rest of him—including his southern drawl. He’s a snake-oil salesman. A self-made multimillionaire who amassed his fortune selling a fantasy to Florida’s narcissistic aristocracy. “I’m afraid I have to borrow my wife for a moment.”
Barbara glances at the platinum and diamond Cartier watch wrapped around her wrist. “Brunch is over, ladies.” Then to me, “Jamie, as always, it’s been a pleasure.”
I force a smile. “I look forward to next week.”
No, I do not.
Eleanor follows Barbara’s lead, collecting her pocketbook before heading for the door. Julia’s in no rush, rising from the table and taking a moment to admire the backyard’s lavish flower garden. I wonder if she imagines herself as mistress of the manor. She can have the keys to the kingdom. What I wanted was a roof and a full belly. All that comes with it, including David’s master plan? It’s some sinister shit, and she can burn along with him when Wraith puts the match to the wood.
As Julia sashays past David, she brushes her shoulder against him, and I have to hold in a laugh. Good Lord, she’s a bold one. I admire her brass. But then, everyone here is open about their extracurricular affairs, bless their hearts. And David, for all his power-tripping, watches her with an unguarded longingness that fills me with wicked enjoyment at their star-crossed lovers nonsense because I know what Julia doesn’t.
I know his secret.
This whole thing, the Coliseum and the arena, it’s payback against the teenagers who maimed him when he was a child. David took that trauma and turned it into this evil. He hurts others because he can’t take revenge on the boys who hurt him. And as his wife—his virgin wife—I’m the only person who knows the rape he suffered left him impotent.
As soon as everyone is gone, David returns to his usual, ruthless self. His expression goes cold, and my heart freezes as a wave of fear crashes over me.
“Why now?”
I stand because the last thing I want is my husband lording over me. Feigning amusement, I match his callousness. I hate pretending to be this character, but it’s how I’ve survived this long in David’s world. “Because it’s time.”
He clenches his jaw, and I resist the urge to back away. To put myself out of striking distance. “Why him?”
“You can’t be serious.” I don’t know how I pull off my forced amusement.
