Chapter 34 #2
“I told you the day we made this deal to get rid of him. And you had the fucking audacity to bring him to our wedding?” Floyd’s breath hits my face, the acrid stench of alcohol wafting off of him.
“You’re going out of your way to ruin things for me.
” He laughs, the sound grating. “All I asked was that you pretend to be a good husband for two fucking years. How is that so difficult?”
“You didn’t ask for anything,” I snap back, my pulse racing. “You forced me into this!”
He drops the photos, crushing them beneath his loafer covered foot.
“Where were you this weekend?”
“None of your business.” I try to move to my left, but he closes in, his larger body shielding my retreat. Floyd grips my chin between his meaty fingers. There’s no doubt he can feel the fear making my body tremble.
He leans forward and sniffs me, dragging his nose along the expanse of my neck. “You smell like sex.”
I know that’s impossible. I showered before leaving Oliver’s.
“I don’t,” I say, the words coming out in a whisper. “Let me go.”
He tsks. “I can’t have my husband running around with another man. How do you think that looks?”
“To who, Floyd? Because I play my part around your family – that was the deal. What I do outside of that doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” he yells, fingers digging into my cheeks. “They’re already suspicious. Just waiting to find a reason to call this marriage a sham and take away my rightful inheritance.”
“Jesus,” I try to shake my head. “You’ll get your fucking money.” With my hands on his chest, I push, trying to get space between us, but he’s a solid wall, firmly planted.
“I’m not repeating this, sweet boy. You won’t see him again. You married me, Darius. That makes you mine. And as much as I find you tiresome, you’re an important possession and I do not share.”
I laugh, a bitter, ugly sound. “Newsflash. This isn’t a real marriage.
This is blackmail. Coercion.” I wave my hands in the air.
“It’s all a fucking ruse.” Anger bubbles, hot and furious inside of me.
“I’m not your possession. I’m not your anything.
” I jab a finger into his chest. “And you know what? I fucking hope they figure it out. I hope you lose it all.”
Floyd uses his hold on my face to slam my head back against the wall, and I’m too shocked by the action to see the hit coming.
His fist lands with force against my chin, a crack ringing in my ears, pain burning in my jaw.
The taste of metal fills my mouth from where he’s split my lip and my eyes water, blurring my vision.
I lift a hand to wipe the blood from my face and that’s when he hits me again, this time in the stomach.
He’s rambling on, but I can’t focus on the words, my body folding in on itself as I choke on air.
The next punch gets me in the ribs, and I crumple to the floor, rolling into a ball.
Bile rises in my throat and I gulp it back, holding my hands over my head.
“If they figure it out, I will take your father down with me and you’ll be sorry, Darius.
” Floyd’s foot connects with my side, and the pain is sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs.
Tears stream down my face and black dots cloud my vision.
“I did not spend all those years sucking up to that fucking man, that fucking family, only to be left with nothing!” I’d be appalled at how he speaks about his family, his flesh and blood, if I wasn’t in so much excruciating pain.
He kicks me again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to take my mind away from this moment, to a place where I’m safe.
Oliver, smiling. The beach. The London skyline.
Sunflowers in a garden that is not yet ours.
But it doesn’t work. The danger is too immediate and the pain too severe to be ignored.
Floyd’s rage is volcanic, spewing out of him in hot waves that land with scorching blows.
I beg him to stop, but he just yells more profanities, his foot finding my injured wrist and stamping down on it the same way he did to my photos earlier.
“I wonder how the will works if my husband dies in an unfortunate accident,” he muses.
The dead serious, detached, heartless way he delivers the comment covers me in an ice bucket of fear.
He is going to kill me.
Sobs wrack my body. A body which no longer feels whole. It feels broken, damaged beyond repair. Floyd laughs, bending down to tap my cheek.
“No, that sounds like too much hard work.” He taps a little harder. “Put your fucking wedding ring on and do not go near him again. If you do, you will all be sorry.”
My eyes remain closed as he leaves the room, the front door slamming shut moments later.
I stay on the floor for what feels like an eternity, fighting the sleep that’s threatening to pull me under.
Rolling onto my back, I look at the ceiling, taking stock of the aches and pains in my limbs.
My ribs and my wrist hurt the most, but thankfully, I’m able to pull myself up on shaky legs.
I can’t fight the nausea that hits me like a tornado, and I crouch over and empty the contents of my stomach onto the hardwood floor.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, it comes away wet with a mix of saliva and blood.
Taking slow, tentative steps, I move around the debris of my life, head down the hallway and to the front door.
My hands shake as I take out my phone and order a ride share to take me to the only person who I’ll ever call my home.
He can’t fix this – no one can. I made my bed and now I must lie in it, but maybe for just a moment, he can hold me and I can pretend everything will be okay.