Sweet Retribution, page 9
I eyeball him without blinking as I pretend to think about it. “Okay. But we need to take it slow. And that means you don’t sleep in my bed unless I tell you you can.”
“Mom is going to think it’s weird,” he says, reaching out and pressing soft fingers to the sore spot on my head.
“Your mother is grieving. She won’t even notice. And if she does, it’s not any of her business.”
“Let me attend to that,” he says, purposely ignoring my comment. Evasive Charlie does little to reassure me he is sincere.
I nod, letting him help me to my feet. He walks me into the bathroom, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around my waist from behind, and I deliberately pretend I don’t see the giant bulge straining his boxers.
He positions me on top of the closed toilet seat before he stalks to the large overhead cupboard, pulling supplies out. Kneeling in front of me, he cleans the cut with some water and cotton balls. Then he pats it dry with a towel and fixes a Band-Aid in place. “Does it hurt?” he asks, gently prodding the small lump.
“Not really.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll bring you some breakfast and a couple of pain pills.”
“That actually sounds pretty wonderful,” I truthfully admit, because I’m zonked after my nighttime expedition. “Thanks.”
He takes my hand, leading me back into the bedroom and tucking me under the covers. I don’t protest or fight when he kisses my lips briefly. I watch him pull on his wrinkled pants and creased shirt, fighting a smile, and I wonder if it is going to be that easy. I guess time will tell.
Charlie is true to his word, fixing me a tray worthy of a queen. He’s showered and changed into a gray checkered suit with a pristine white shirt and charcoal-gray tie, and there’s no denying how dapper he looks. “I’ve got to go into the office again. I’m sorry.”
I’m not.
“It’s fine. I understand. What about the meeting with the funeral director?”
“I’ll be home in time to pick you up, and we can go there together.”
“Okay.” I bat my eyelashes and bite down on my lip, staring at him with my best wide-eyed innocent look. Then I sit up on my knees and stretch up and kiss him. “Have a good day.”
He winds his hand into my hair, holding me in place at the back of my head. “Have you any idea how happy you make me?”
I shrug.
“I know this has been hard for you, Abby, but I promise I won’t let anyone harm you ever again. I love you so fucking much.”
Again, with the self-delusion. Doesn’t he see how much he’s hurt me? How much he continues to hurt me by forcing this on me?
He kisses me again, prodding at the seam of my lips with his tongue. I open for him, hating every second of it. When he pulls away, his lips are swollen, and his green eyes are dark with desire. “Just let me love you, darling. That’s all I ask. Let me shower you with affection the way I’ve always dreamed of doing.”
I can tell he means it. It radiates from his eyes.
Now is as good a time as any.
“I was thinking maybe we should have a party.” He blinks, looking confused. “To celebrate our wedding. It was all so fast, and it’s not really how I pictured my wedding day.” I look at him through hooded eyes, praying I’m not pushing too far too soon. “Every little girl daydreams about her wedding, and I’m no different,” I lie, because that’s never been me. But he doesn’t know that.
“I gave up on that dream when I became engaged to Trent because marrying a monster is the stuff of nightmares, not dreams.” I drag my lip between my teeth. “But when he was out of the picture, I started to dream again. To think it might come true when I married you.”
He reels me into his arms, hugging me tight. “I’ll give you anything you want, Abby. Anything.”
How about my real husband, huh? Will you give him to me? Yeah, didn’t think so. My snarky inner demon conducts a one-sided conversation in my head.
“Okay.” I fake a smile, easing out of his embrace. “We can discuss the details later. You can’t be late for work.”
He totally pushes his luck, kissing me again. “I’m taking you out to dinner after the funeral meeting.”
Oh yay, great. That is just what I’ll feel like doing after such a morbid meeting. “That would be nice.” I don’t gush, because I don’t want to overdo it.
“Wear a pretty dress. I want to show you off.”
Blech. My stomach dips to my toes as I remember how often my father expressed similar sentiments. A shiver works its way through me at the thought that Charlie could end up being exactly like my bastard father. Imagine I’m stuck with him, and he turns out like that?
An icy chill creeps up my spine, and it’s a struggle to mask my true emotions. But I do, slapping another fake smile on my face. “I’ll see you later. Don’t work too hard.” I waggle my fingers at him, and he blows me a kiss.
Gag.
The instant the door closes, I flop down on the bed, rubbing at my mouth, wanting to erase the taste of him still lingering on my lips.
“If Father could see you working Charlie like a pro, he’d be so fucking proud,” Drew says, later that afternoon as we walk through the expansive grounds at the back of the house.
“Please don’t say shit like that. And don’t talk about that bastard unless it involves our plans to annihilate him. Otherwise his name is mud. He’s Voldemort. Got it?”
“Sorry, A.” He pulls me into a quick hug. “I’m just proud of you for holding it together. I know it’s not easy.”
“It’s not,” I admit, cutting across him. “And it’s infinitely harder when everyone keeps referencing shit I don’t want to think about or talk about. I just want to focus on our plans, because the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can be with my husband and start properly living my life.”
“I hear you.” He kisses the top of my head. “I know you have something to say, but before that, there is something I need to tell you. Try not to get mad.”
“Has anyone ever not gotten mad when someone says that?” I question, and a half smile graces his mouth.
“Father has found me a replacement fiancée,” he blurts. “And you’ve been summoned to dinner on Sunday to meet her.”
I slam to a halt, turning to my brother with my jaw trailing the ground. “No! He can’t do that to you! To Jane!”
“Jane is gone, A,” he quietly confirms. “And you know he can and will do this.”
“Who is she?”
“All I know is her name is Alessandra Mathers, and she’s from out of state.”
“Weren’t any of the girls around here good enough?”
“Apparently not.”
“You can’t agree to it, D.” I clutch onto his arm, pinning him with panicked eyes. “What if Jane finds out? It will kill her!”
Anguish skates across his face, plain as day. “I hope that doesn’t happen, but I can’t say no. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’ll try to stall it until after the vote and then call it off.”
“What if he won’t let you?”
“Then I’ll go through with it and get an annulment after.”
I hate my brother might have to do that, because he and Jane share this epic love, and it’s not right that they can’t be together. “I hate this for you.”
“I’m not exactly enamored with it myself, A. But, right now, I need to be seen to cooperate. To make amends for my supposed betrayal. He’s still pissed I jumped to defend you on Christmas Day.”
“Well, then, my plan should help you out too.”
“What do you have in mind?” he asks, looping his arm through mine and urging me forward.
We keep step as we walk farther from the house. “I’ve already planted the seeds with Charlie, now you need to do the same with the bastard. You need to tell him it’s in his interests to publicly showcase my wedding. Tell him he needs to throw a lavish party and this time it should be downstairs.”
“He will never go for that, Abby.”
“Yes, he will if you choose your words carefully and manipulate him into it. You need to convince him that I’m on board and I’ve put my errant ways behind me. That his plan worked. Feed his ego. Let him believe he’s broken me. Molded me into submitting. Tell him I’ve always secretly harbored a crush on Charlie and it’s why I didn’t protest too much. He’ll push back, and that’s when you tell him to test me. To bring me into that world and see how I behave. Tell him it’s time I was indoctrinated and that I learned what is involved in being a respected elite wife.”
I stop walking again, bracing my hands against my brother’s forearms. “Blow smoke up his ass. Tell him whatever he needs to hear to believe it, and we kill two birds with one stone. You’ll be back in favor, and we’ll get into the dungeon to do our recon.”
“And to think Father believes women are the weaker sex.” Drew grins.
“I’m glad he underestimates me.” A matching grin spreads across my mouth. “Because it means he won’t see me coming.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Are you okay?” I ask Charlie, as we leave the funeral director’s office after a difficult meeting.
Air spurts out of his mouth. “I’m fine.”
Liar.
It’s as obvious as the nose on his face that he’s anything but fine. Charlie is waging an inner war with himself, and I’ve no clue which side will end up victorious.
He takes my hand, linking our fingers. “Could we walk to the restaurant? I need some fresh air.”
I’m not really wearing the right shoes, but I don’t argue. “Sure.”
The night air is brisk, but we’re both wrapped up in warm coats, so I only feel the icy chill upon my face, reddening my nose and stinging my cheeks. Charlie emits little breathy cloud rings into the air as we walk in silence toward the most expensive restaurant in Rydeville.
The maître d’ is effusive when we arrive, fussing over us in a way that’s completely over the top. He takes our coats, and Charlies casts an appraising look over the navy-blue lace mini-dress I’m wearing. I’ve got stockings and garters on underneath and a pair of sky-high silver Gucci shoes on my feet. I took extra care with my appearance tonight, wearing a full face of makeup and styling my hair into soft curves, and from the way Charlie is eyeing me like he wants to ditch dinner and eat me instead, I’d say I’ve accomplished what I set out to.
He grips my hand, grinning appreciatively, and I swallow the bile forcing its way up my throat. The trek across the restaurant is an ordeal as well-meaning acquaintances and nosy busybodies stop us at every step, offering condolences and congratulations. Father placed an announcement in the local and national papers confirming our marriage, so every sniveling asshole is aware it’s official, and they are tripping over themselves to lick Charlie’s ass.
Charlie slides into the booth after me, sighing deeply as he rubs at the spot between his brows. The waiter hands us some menus, and Charlie orders the most expensive bottle of wine. It doesn’t matter that we’re not of age. People in Rydeville are used to turning a blind eye and bending the rules for the elite. Especially now Charlie is the patriarch of his family and the newly-appointed CEO of Barron Banking and Financial Investment Services Ltd.
“Fuck.” He cricks his head from side to side, running his finger along the collar of his shirt.
“Hey.” I pat his thigh. “It will be okay. Once we get through these next couple days.”
“I’m worried about Mom,” he admits. “She barely comes out of her room, and I hear her sobbing all the time.”
I do too, and I’ve tried to help, but most times, she won’t even open the door to me.
“She needs to speak to a therapist. I know the doctor is attending to her, but pumping her full of valium and sleeping pills isn’t the answer. You don’t want her to end up like poor Sylvia.”
“Do not compare my mother to that woman!” he hisses.
Several heads turn in our direction, and I snatch my hand back, pissed. I grind my teeth to my molars, ignoring his outburst and focusing on the menu, because I can’t be seen to have a blazing argument with him in public in case word gets back to my father.
“Shit, Abby.” He reaches for my hand, but I tuck it under my butt, keeping it away from him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”
I quell my temper, purposely softening my look. “I know you’re under a lot of strain, Charlie, and I’m trying to help, but biting my head off isn’t going to help your cause.” I eyeball him seriously. “You know how I get when I’m pushed.”
A faint smile cracks across his lips. “I happen to like that side of you.” In a lightning-fast move, he darts in, nipping my earlobe with his teeth. His breath fans over the side of my face. “I’m betting you’re a real tigress in the bedroom, and I can’t wait to find out if I’m right.” He plants his hand on my exposed thigh, inching his fingers up higher.
Panic swims up my throat, and I’m ready to pry his fingers off when the waiter arrives with our wine.
Talk about perfect timing.
Charlie removes his hand, and I release the breath I was holding. He pours me a glass of wine, with a knowing smile on his face, and I’m growing uncomfortably hot as he eyes me up and down, his gaze lingering on my thighs and my chest. He clinks his glass against mine. “To us.”
I can barely breathe over the lump wedged in my throat, let alone speak, so I simply smile and tap my glass against his, taking a healthy glug of the chilled, crisp New Zealand Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. He presses his wet lips to my cheek. “You look stunning by the way, and I’m the envy of every man in here.”
Considering the average age of the patrons is mid-forties, I don’t doubt that. But it’s still gross, and it sticks in my gut. “Thank you.” I kiss his cheek too, holding back my gag the whole time. “But enough about me.” I smile coyly at him over the top of my wine glass. “I want to hear all about your day.”
I pepper him with questions the whole way through dinner, asking him how things are going at the office, hanging off his every word like the docile, attentive little wife I’m aiming to be.
He finds numerous opportunities to touch me, and I’m squirming in the seat, growing more and more uncomfortable. From Charlie’s smug grin, I can tell he thinks his attentions are turning me on. I get immense pleasure from knowing he’s having the opposite effect. My gaze darts around the restaurant, half-expecting to see Kai sulking in the shadows, but that’s ridiculous because I know he wouldn’t do that.
Although he hates this as much as I do, we both understand what we need to do.
And now I’m thinking of Kai.
Wishing it was his hands all over me.
His lips teasing my skin.
His dirty words whispered in my ear.
A sharp pang of longing jumps up and bites me before I put a leash on it.
I’m glad when dinner is over and we leave even if I’m a little anxious about what Charlie expects when we return home. I told him last night I wanted to take it slow, but he seems to have forgotten the memo.
He plants his hand on my thigh, when we’re tucked up in the Land Rover with the heating on full blast, rubbing circles on my thigh with his thumb as he drives.
“What are you doing?” I ask, when we are halfway home and his hand moves farther up my thigh, dangerously close to the hem of my dress.
He flashes me a saucy grin. “What does it look like?”
I slap his hand away. “Are you hard of hearing?”
He frowns.
“I told you I want to take it slow. This isn’t slow.”
“Come on, Abby. We’re not eighth graders.”
“When it comes to sex, you were never an eighth grader. You went from zero to ninety overnight.”
He throws back his head, laughing. “True, but there’s nothing wrong with sex, Abby.” He pins, dark, wanton eyes on me, and I shiver all over. But not in a good way. “It’s natural and healthy. And it’s what married couples do.”
“We haven’t even been married a week,” I counter.
“Most married couples have sex on their wedding night.” He opens his mouth, to take it back, no doubt, instantly realizing his mistake.
“Yes. But we’re not most married couples, are we?” I bark. “Because you were out screwing some whore.” I pretend to fume, while I’m secretly smiling inside. This is a good way to keep his hands off me. I’ll just start an argument any time he tries to get frisky. If I rile him up, he’ll think twice about wanting to fuck me.
I hope.
“You’re beginning to sound like a broken record, Abby.”
“And you’re beginning to sound like the stereotypical cheating husband!” I roar. “How fucking dare you say that to me! I have every right to be pissed, and you don’t get to dismiss it like that.”
He sighs, rubbing his hands down his face.
I’m fuming as I turn in my seat, faking a glare. “Who was she? I want to know who my husband spent our wedding night with.”
Now, it’s his turn to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s no one. Inconsequential.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I still want to know who she is.”
“No.”
“No?” I pout. “I have a right to know!” I demand when I really couldn’t give two shits.
“Goddamn it, Abby.” He pounds his fists off the steering wheel. “I said drop it!”
Hmm. He doesn’t want me to know who she is.
This is interesting.
I tuck this little nugget away for future reference.
“Fine.” I sulk, glaring out the window, and Charlie drives us back to the house in complete silence.
When we walk into the house, we go our separate ways without speaking, and I lock my bedroom door, trying not to gloat as I grab my cell and head into my bathroom to call the man I love.
The following day, I insist we are having a family dinner. The funeral is tomorrow, and Charlie’s mom and sister need to be aware of the arrangements. I get why they want to bury their heads in the sand, and pretend this isn’t happening, but I need to at least try to prepare them. Tomorrow is going to be hell on Earth, and I’m already wishing I had a fast-forward button.
