7. Cara #2
Victor hesitates. For a moment, I think he’s going to argue. Then he gives a curt nod and stalks away, Eleanor trailing behind him like a jeweled shadow.
The old woman turns to me. Her eyes - dark like Damien’s - take my measure.
“You’re the one who threw that photo up at the gala.”
I tense. Prepare for condemnation. For disgust. For another lecture about shame and propriety and how I’ve disgraced the family name.
Instead, she smiles.
“Good.” The word is sharp. Satisfied. “That boy needed someone to finally call his bluff. He’s been rotten since he was twelve, and everyone’s been too afraid to say it.”
I blink. “I-thank you?”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not doing you a favor.” She pats my arm, her papery skin cool against mine. “I’m stating a fact. Marcus has fooled a lot of people in his life. It’s refreshing to meet someone who sees through him.”
“Grandmother…” Damien’s voice is rough. Uncertain.
“Don’t ‘grandmother’ me.” She turns her sharp gaze on him. “I know what they did to you. I told Eleanor for years, but she refuses to see it. Refuses to see what that boy really is.”
“You never said anything.”
“I said plenty. No one listened.” Her expression softens slightly. “But I’m glad you came tonight. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
She reaches up, pats his cheek. “You look healthy. Happier than you used to be.” Her eyes flick to me. “Take care of this one. He’s more fragile than he looks.”
She disappears into the crowd before either of us can respond.
I catch Eleanor watching from across the room. Something flickers across her face - discomfort? guilt? - before she turns away.
“I need a drink,” Damien says.
“I need ten drinks.”
“Let’s start with two and see how it goes.”
***
An hour into the party, I excuse myself to find the bathroom.
The house is a maze of hallways and closed doors, each one looking exactly like the last. I take a wrong turn, then another, until I’m completely lost in a wing I don’t recognize.
“Cara.”
My blood freezes.
Marcus is standing at the end of the hallway. He’s wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my apartment. His hair is perfectly styled. He looks exactly like the man I married - handsome, charming, completely in control.
“I thought that was your dress,” he says, moving closer. “Red. Bold choice. Trying to prove something?”
“Get out of my way.”
“Or what? You’ll throw wine in my face like you did to Amanda?” He keeps advancing. “That was cute, by the way. Very classy.”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“No, you’re just going to run away. Like always.
” He’s close now - too close. I can smell his cologne, that familiar scent that used to make me feel safe.
“You know, I almost admire what you did at the gala. Almost. It was stupid and impulsive and it’s going to cost you everything, but at least it showed some spine. ”
“Move.”
“My brother’s a bad influence on you.” His voice drops, intimate and dangerous. “But then again, you’ve always had a weakness for men who treat you like shit. I just wasn’t obvious enough about it.”
“You were plenty obvious. I just didn’t want to see it.”
“And now you do? Now that he’s been whispering in your ear, turning you against me?” Marcus shakes his head. “Damien’s been trying to destroy me for years. You’re just the latest weapon in his arsenal.”
“This isn’t about Damien.”
“Isn’t it?” He moves closer still. I back up, feel the wall press against my shoulder blades. “You’ve been practically living at his warehouse. Spending every night together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“We’re building a case against you. That’s all.”
“Is it?” His hand comes up - touches my face. I flinch away but there’s nowhere to go. “I know you, Cara. I know when you’re lying. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Get your hand off me.”
“You still love me.” His voice is soft. Almost tender. “Part of you, anyway. Part of you still remembers what we had.”
“What we had was a lie.”
“Was it? All of it?” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “The good parts were real. The nights we stayed up talking until sunrise. The way you laughed at my terrible jokes. The way you used to look at me like I was the only person in the room.”
“Stop.”
“I miss that.” His face is inches from mine. “I miss you, Cara. Whatever else happened, that part was real.”
For one terrible moment, I almost believe him. Almost let myself fall back into the familiar pattern - his words washing over me, rewriting reality, making me doubt everything I know.
Then I remember the supply room. The smile. Close the door, Cara.
“Get. Away. From. Me.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll scream. Loud enough for everyone at this party to hear.”
Something shifts in his expression. The tenderness evaporates, replaced by cold fury.
“You think that’s going to help you? Make another scene?” He grabs my wrist - hard. Hard enough to bruise. “Everyone already thinks you’re crazy. This will just prove them right.”
“Let go.”
“When I’m ready.” His grip tightens. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to drop this divorce. Sign whatever papers my lawyers put in front of you. Walk away with nothing.”
“That’s not-”
“In exchange, I won’t destroy you.” His voice is calm. Reasonable. Like he’s explaining something to a slow child. “I have resources you can’t imagine. Connections. People who owe me favors. I can make your life very, very difficult if I want to.”
“You already have.”
“That was nothing.” His smile is cold. “That was me being gentle. You haven’t seen what I’m capable of when I really try.”
“Let go of my arm.”
“When you agree to-”
A hand appears between us.
Removes Marcus’s grip from my wrist.
Finger by finger. Controlled. Deliberate.
Damien.
His face is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes before an explosion.
“Touch her again.” His voice is terrifyingly quiet. “Please. Give me a reason.”
Marcus steps back. But he doesn’t leave. Just stands there, eyes darting between us.
“This is pathetic.” He smooths his jacket, regaining his composure. “Both of you. The disgraced brother and the discarded wife. What a pair.”
“Leave.” Damien hasn’t moved. Hasn’t raised his voice. But there’s something in his stillness that makes the hair on my arms stand up. “Now.”
“Or what? You’ll hit me?” Marcus laughs. “Like last time? Go ahead. Prove you’re the same violent piece of shit you’ve always been.”
Damien’s whole body goes rigid.
“That’s right.” Marcus’s smile is vicious. “She doesn’t know, does she? Didn’t tell her why the family really exiled you? How you-”
“I know about Elena.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “I know what you did to her.”
For just a second, Marcus’s mask slips. Something ugly flashes in his eyes - surprise and fury and something that might be fear.
Then it’s gone.
“Elena was disturbed,” he says smoothly. “She had issues long before I came along. Whatever my brother told you-”