Ellie
Rafael’s body freezes at the sultry voice, and I turn to face the female I know he’s slept with, and I hate her for it. How he reacts to her has me wondering if he has feelings for her, and the thought has sickness rolling through my stomach.
She’s tall, so much taller than me I feel insignificant, and I shrink into Rafael’s chest as if needing protection from her. Her figure is amazing, with an hour-glass body and tits that spill over the top of her Catwoman bodysuit; it’s plastered to her, emphasizing her figure, and jealousy courses through me. Her long blonde hair doesn’t look like her natural shade, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s beautiful. Her face has such perfect sculpting that she seems handcrafted; she is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and when she looks at me, my mouth becomes impossibly dry.
“Rafael, darling. What’s this little plaything you have with you? Did nobody tell you to leave your toys at home?” She throws her head back on a condescending laugh, and I sit forward with irritation.
“Enough, Nikita. What the fuck are you doing here?” His deadly tone has a gritty edge to it, a promise of violence, and relief floods me at how obvious it is that he feels nothing for this woman. If at all, I’d say he feels hate.
She clucks her tongue. “I want to see Oliver.”
My heart races at the mention of the little boy I’m so fond of, but why the hell would she want to see him? Did Rafael have a relationship with her and let her bond with him too? Unbridled hurt lances through my chest, a betrayal I’ve no right to feel, yet it’s catastrophic.
In the blink of an eye, Rafael scoops me up and slides me onto his chair. He stands so quickly that it draws attention to him, and I watch in horror as his hand snaps out to grab hold of her arm. Then he marches her through the crowd, and her legs can barely keep up.
She attempts to pull away. “Get your hands off me. I’m still your fucking wife!”
My world tilts on an axis as pure devastation infiltrates my bloodstream and her words echo in my ears. “I’m still your fucking wife.”
He lied.
She’s not dead.
A sob catches in my throat, and I’m grateful to be seated, knowing my legs couldn’t possibly hold me.
I close my eyes, but all I see is her.
Her beauty.
Her son.
Her and Rafael.
“Are you okay?” I snap my eyes open to the sweet woman from earlier. She strokes my back as my mind remains clogged with hurt.
He’s married.
He’s not mine.
We cheated.
My heart stutters and my stomach rolls.
I don’t belong to him.
I was always just his little toy to play with.
A toy for him to possess.