Love Me Gently (Deer Creek #1)

Sixteen

Trina

Then

* * *

Time flew. Days and weeks were suddenly spent traveling to a host of exotic and luxurious locations for work. More vacations and trips were taken for leisure and fun with Jonathan. During the football season, he spent most of his time in Atlanta, Georgia, but he also owned a penthouse in New York where I now lived full-time.

It was easier, given the way our schedules crisscrossed frequently, so when he’d suggested it and I was still living in the tiny little apartment with Stella because I never got around to finding anything else for us, I accepted.

Which reminded me…

I pulled my phone out of my clutch as my heels clicked on the wood floor entrance to our penthouse. Behind me, the elevator doors slid shut and Jonathan’s shoes made a heavier thump.

His arm wrapped around my stomach, and he pulled me back to his chest. Peppering my throat with kisses, he murmured, “Have I told you how gorgeous and stunning you are tonight?”

“Several times.”

I dropped my clutch to the floor and with my phone in one hand I spun around so we were facing each other and draped my arms over his shoulders. “But you can tell me often, as many times as you’d like.”

He slid his hand up my left arm and tugged it down so my palm was flat to his chest. His fingers spun the gold band he’d set on my ring finger at dinner two hours ago. I was still blinded when I looked at it. Four carat, princess cut, something or other. He’d explained it to me, but I was in far too much awe at the ring, at the engagement to pay attention.

Truthfully, after a year, I was still far too in awe of the man smiling down at me to pay attention to much of anything.

“The ring is so beautiful,”

I told him, whispering like the spoken word would shatter the beauty of it. Man, it sparkled.

“It’s salt and stone compared to its owner.”

His lips came down and brushed against mine, and like every time he kissed me, I leaned in and craved more. But tonight there were people to call. Plans to start making.

Jonathan could wait a few more minutes.

“Wait,”

I whispered and pulled back, cupping my phone to my chest. “I just need to call Stella and my parents.”

I’d already texted them but hadn’t heard a word back. For my parents, that was becoming more common. With Stella, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was still waiting tables but had gotten her degree, so she was also working full time. Our lives had taken us in radically different directions. In fact, as I stared at my phone screen, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d talked. Or seen each other.

Jonathan’s fingers wrapped around the edge of my phone, and he plucked it from my hands.

“Hey.”

I reached for it but he pushed me back so it was out of my reach.

Confusion knitted my brows, and I laughed softly. “I want to call my parents.”

“Later.”

The softness in his expression dimmed and his nostrils flared as I frowned up at him. “They can wait.”

“They’re my parents, silly.”

I reached for my phone again, but he held it out of my reach. “Jonathan, come on. I want to tell them the good news.”

His free hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked it down to my side with such force I stumbled a step forward. “Hey…careful.”

“You can call them later. Besides, it’s not like they’ll come to the wedding.”

He let go of my hand and began unbuttoning his suit coat like he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of me.

“That’s not nice. They’ll be happy for me. For us.”

I spun on my heels and then kicked them off. The move put me a good eight inches shorter than him. “Why would you say that?”

He tossed his suit coat onto the counter and began unbuckling his cufflinks. He barely spared me a glance as he said, “Because they don’t like us together, and because they’re too simple. You’re too good for them.”

I gaped at him. Jonathan could be ruthless. I’d seen it at business dinners and with some of my contracts his lawyers now always looked over, but he’d never been so rude to me. Not once.

“Hey.”

I set my hand on his shoulder and pressed my front to his side. “Be nice.”

He dropped a cufflink and began working on his tie. “Get me a bourbon, would you? I need a drink.”

I blinked at him. Blinked again. “Please?” I teased.

He turned to me, brows arched. “Get yourself a glass of wine, too.”

What the heck? I dropped my hand from his shoulder and stepped back. Whatever was going on with him, whatever came with the sudden change in mood I doubted a whiskey would fix but whatever.

I grabbed his drink, poured a glass of white for myself and brought both back to the island where he still rested, scrolling through his phone. Mine was on the counter so once I slid his drink toward him, I reached for it.

His hand slammed down onto mine, and I jumped. “Jon?—”

“What did I say?”

“You’re on your phone.”

“Drop the sass, Katrina. I told you that you can call them later.”

An icy sensation tickled the back of my neck and my spine.

This wasn’t just rudeness. He was being mean. My chin wobbled and I swallowed the thick lump growing in my throat. His fingers wrapped around mine until I flinched in pain.

“You’re hurting me.”

A sneer scrolled across his face, twisting his features into something unrecognizable.

“And when you tell me you’ll listen when I tell you to do something, I’ll let go.”

I scanned his face, trying to find something that resembled the man who had slid my engagement ring onto my finger and kissed me so tenderly only a few hours ago when I was the happiest woman in the world. “They’re my parents, Jonathan. I’ve dreamed of getting married my whole life. I have to call them. Please.”

I tacked it on at the end and hated the pleading in my tone. But his fingers were still pinching mine and his face kept contorting into something ugly. Sinister.

I stepped back but he only squeezed my hand harder. “Ouch.”

“Did I say you could leave?”

“What is going on with you, honey? We should be celebrating…”

“Tell me you’ll listen to me. You’re mine now.”

I was his in all the most beautiful ways but now an oily sensation covered my skin. “Jonathan.”

“Say it,”

he demanded and squeezed my hand so hard I thought my fingers would break.

“Ouch. Fine.”

I flinched and yanked on my hand again. “I’ll listen. Whatever.”

He let go of my hand, and I brought it toward my chest.

I blinked at him, only to see a blur of movement. A stinging pain slammed into my face, knocking me backward. I twisted as I fell, and my head slammed into something hard. Cold.

The fridge.

He’d just slapped me. Tears came immediately as I stood, hunched over, cupping my injured hand to my chest. A shriek rang out. Delayed reaction? And then a cry. That was mine.

Dang. Something warm and wet slipped down my cheek. I reached up and came back with blood on my fingers.

“What is wrong with you?” I gasped.

I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring myself to see the look on his face. Would he regret this? Maybe something on his phone upset him. Surely something had to be wrong. He’d never done this. He’d never do this to me.

And yet my cheek was throbbing, something was bleeding, and my fingers burned hot as I forced myself to stand.

“Jonathan,”

I cried. “What are you doing?”

His shoes appeared, and then his fingers were at my chin. I cringed away but he pinched my chin between his thumb and finger and forced me to meet his gaze.

“You’re a mess, and you’ve made me ruin your pretty face.”

Ruin.

Ruined.

I was that. I’d been that for years but thought I’d hidden it from him. He’d never mentioned Steven to me, and while I still worked for him, he hadn’t touched me since the night Jonathan and I met. Just one more reason why I loved him so much. He saved me from hell.

At least, I’d always thought so. But now?

I blinked up at him and wiped more blood from my cheek. It wasn’t much.

“I’m sorry,”

I rasped, and what? The words came out of my mouth before I could think. I wasn’t sorry. I hadn’t done anything.

“I forgive you.”

Jonathan grinned, and all the ugliness on his face was now gone. This was my Jonathan. “Now, promise me you’ll listen, right? You’ll do that from now on? And you’ll do it without talking back.”

I’d do or say anything to get away from him. “Yes. Of course.”

“Good.”

He leaned forward and kissed me. “Now go upstairs, clean your face, and get ready for me. We have celebrating to do.”

My body froze and turned straight into a block of ice. “You can’t be serious.”

He’d hit me, and now he wanted to celebrate?

He reached out his hand and pressed his thumb to my cheekbone. The same cheekbone that had slammed into the fridge until I cried out in pain. “You promised to listen, right?”

Oh god. He meant this. More tears fell, and he grinned as they slid right down to his thumb. He brushed them away and then brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick them away. “Right, Katrina? You’ve promised to listen.”

“I have.”

There was nothing left to say. I couldn’t get away from him. Couldn’t leave. I lived here.

“Good.”

His hand dropped to my throat, and he leaned in. His warm breath skated across my lips as his fingers squeezed until my lips parted in surprise and pain and fear. Who was this man in front of me?

A pained squeak escaped my parted lips, and he kissed me, shoved his tongue inside my mouth and pressed his lips against mine so forcefully they’d bruise. His fingers kept squeezing and my breathing turned ragged. “Now, Katrina. Go do what I said. You don’t want me more disappointed in you than I already am, do you?”

I shook my head. It hurt. My breathing was shallower.

He pushed me away and let go of my throat. “Then do what you’re told. You agreed to this life, Katrina. Might as well get used to it.”

I hurried around him, ran upstairs and when I got to the bathroom I crumbled to the floor and sobbed.

I’d thought he’d saved me from Steven.

But like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, he’d bided his time until he could turn on me.

He hadn’t saved me at all.

He’d waited until the perfect moment to complete my ruination.

Still, somehow, I stood.

I washed my face and did as I was told, and by the time morning came, I knew exactly what I’d signed myself up for…

A lifetime of unending pain.