Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
MAVEN
I told the movers to kindly fuck off. They hesitated at first, but I assured them they would still be paid.
I don’t know who Boston thinks he is, apart from my husband, but I don’t take orders from him, even if he threatens to lock my sister away. I’ve been waiting all day for a phone call with Carrie. I feel like so much has happened since I last spoke to her.
It’s getting late, and I know he’ll be showing up here soon because I’m not at his house like I was requested to be.
For one, I don’t know where he lives. And for two, I have no idea if there’s enough room at his house for all my things.
If not, what am I supposed to do with all of my shoes?
I’m not packing those beauties up. They are meant to be displayed, not stored.
Finally, my phone rings, and I pick it up immediately.
“Carrie,” I whisper.
“Hey, Maven,” she says in a soft voice.
“How are you? What’s happening?” I sit down on my bed as I wait for her to speak.
“Good. I’m good. It’s been helpful.”
“So you can come home soon, right?” I ask.
“Not yet….”
My shoulders sag in disappointment. “We’ve never not seen each other for this long.” I lie back on the bed.
“I know. But, Maven, I can’t continue to do it. To hurt you, the one person I love.” I can hear her crying, and I close my eyes.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, Carrie. You just surprised me is all.”
“You’ll be fine without any business for that long?” she asks.
“Yes, you know I will.” She always got after me for saving so much money. She’d go on and on about how one day it would get me in trouble, but now I’m glad I did.
“Why aren’t you ready?” a voice booms from the doorway, making me sit up on the bed, my heart racing.
“Who’s that?” Carrie asks.
“Sorry, Carrie, I have to go. I’m at a doctor’s appointment, and, well, the doc is about to shove something up my ass and make me very uncomfortable,” I lie, then add in a whisper, “I love you.”
I keep my eyes on Boston. His dark brows pinch together as I hear her say it back before I hang up. He’s dressed in a really nice suit, and he’s even wearing a tie.
Fancy.
“Stop breaking into my apartment,” I grumble
“Your apartment is now mine. I bought it,” he says.
“What? You can’t…” I say, shocked and slightly impressed.
Not that I’ll let him know that last part.
“I can. I bought the land and building. You’ll be notified once the paperwork is final. Now, get up and get dressed. You’ll make us late.” He waves a hand.
“No,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. His gaze drops to my chest before slowly raising back up to my eyes. I love the way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t notice.
“Now, Dynamite! And you will be on your best behavior, because these men won’t take kindly to your antics.”
“I don’t care,” I bark. “Fuck those men, and fuck you.” He takes a step toward me, but then pauses as something catches his eye.
He prowls across the room, crouches, and picks up something that’s sticking out from beneath the bed.
It’s the mask I took from Bailey’s house. Shit, I forgot I put it there.
“Where did you get this?” he questions, menace in his tone.
“Fuck you,” I repeat.
He shakes his head and then walks out with the mask.
I hear the front door open and close, then I lie back down.
Maybe that did the job of getting him to leave for good.
Closing my eyes, I think of Carrie. I hope the treatment facility is working for her and that it will do the job.
Suddenly, I feel something cold and hard snap around my wrist, then I’m yanked up my bed.
My eyes fly open, and I see Boston behind me, climbing onto the mattress.
I try to wriggle free but he has my arm in a tight grip.
“What are you doing?” I cry. He doesn’t answer, just maneuvers me around until he has me in a position to snap the cuffs around the other wrist. I dig my feet into the mattress, but it does me no good against his brute strength as he handcuffs me to my headboard.
He gets to his feet and looks down at me.
“Remove them. Now,” I growl.
“No,” he says, then scans around the room. If I had a gun and free hands right now, I would shoot him. Maybe with his own gun. “What do you plan to wear to the event?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I grit out.
He leaves the bedroom, then returns a few moments later with a knife in his hand. He looms over me, and I manage to kick him in the stomach. He grunts, then readjusts himself so he can hold my legs down.
“Hope you weren’t fond of these clothes,” he says with a smirk, then he slices down the middle of the old shirt I’m wearing.
I gasp as he tears it open, revealing my breasts.
He pauses at the sight, but recovers quickly, before he drags the knife down my stomach and starts to cut my favorite comfy shorts.
I don’t thrash my hips for the simple fact that he has me pinned down, and the knife would probably stab me anyway.
When he’s satisfied, he straightens and then takes the knife from the room.
A few seconds later, he comes back and goes to my closet. “What do you want to wear?” he asks casually, as if he didn’t just handcuff me to my bed and cut my clothing off.
Does he not know I’m a trained assassin?
“What the fuck, Boston?”
“You refused to get dressed, so I’m here to assist. Now, tell me what you want to wear before I pick something for you.”
I raise my chin in defiance, which does nothing to deter him. He doesn’t waste time before he plucks a silver dress from a hanger and brings it to where I’m seething on the bed.
“Uncuff me.”
“You’ll get dressed?” he asks.
“Yes, you insufferable fool. I’ll get dressed.”
I watch him as he uncuffs me. When I’m free, I sit up, and he hands me the dress. I stomp to the bathroom, and he follows as I slide it on.
I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste, but he scrunches up his nose. “What now?” I groan.
“Peppermint,” he says, then takes the toothpaste from me and puts it in his pocket.
“Motherfucker! That was my toothpaste!” I scream. “Are you allergic?”
“No, just sensitive. Now, finish getting ready. We’re already late.”
When I enter the living room, I find him on his phone.
I have my little purse and matching bright silver heels.
He eyes me in appreciation, his gaze sliding over me, and I know he likes what he sees.
He goes to take a step toward me, then seems to think better of it, and I see the fight in his eyes before he turns without saying a word and heads to the door.
He opens the car door for me, and that’s about as far as he goes at being a gentleman, because he doesn’t even talk to me on the car ride over. Though, I notice the way his hands tightly grip the steering wheel. And the way his gaze flicks to my hand, to the wedding rings, a few times.
“What should I expect?” I ask as the car slows down.
“Be respectful and nice.”
“I’m always nice,” I say with a smile.
“Yeah, okay.”
He opens the car door and gets out as soon as we’re parked. I sit and wait for him to get mine, because I’m surely not. When it opens, he offers me his hand, and I slide mine in his. We make our way to two very large doors and walk inside.
I see people mingling, surprised it’s such a small gathering. I assumed it was some big party or gala we were attending. He keeps hold of my hand, and a few people turn our way with curious gazes, but it’s the person in front of us that has me pausing.
Soren Nixon.
“Boston, you brought a date,” he says, looking at me.
“I did,” he replies. Then his hand releases mine and moves to my lower back. “My wife, actually. You remember Maven.” He pauses, looking at me, as if he’s drinking me in, and I almost forget to breathe before he says, “My wife.”
My heartbeat takes off in surprise at those words leaving his mouth, as if he likes the way they sound. I can’t deny that I do. I hate that they elicit any emotion in me. Glancing away so he can’t read my thoughts, I look to Soren, who is wide-eyed. He glances at me, then back at Boston.
“Your wife? Boston, wow! That’s amazing,” the woman next to Soren says.
“Yes, amazing,” Soren agrees, eyes narrowed at Boston. “Unexpected as well. I wasn’t aware you were even seeing anyone.”
I stay silent as the woman next to him smiles at me.
“I’m Cressida, by the way.”
“Hi.” I nod to her.
“You have amazing hair. Is it hard to maintain?” she asks.
Boston’s hand drops from my back, and he walks off with Soren, leaving me standing with a woman I don’t fucking know.
I suck with people.
“Yes, it is.” I glance around, looking for the nearest bathroom.
“I’ll be back.” I turn and leave her there.
A part of me wants to run away, while the other knows that would be stupid.
So I walk calmly to the bathroom, pull out a lip gloss, and apply it.
I force a smile at my reflection before I go out to find Boston.
I spot him standing with a group of men. Men don’t intimidate me, so I walk straight over. They stop talking as soon as they see me. Boston steps back and puts his arm around my waist.
“Married,” one says.
“Lucky, right?” I say, and I know I’m laying it on thick as I lean up and kiss my husband on the cheek. I give them a little wave before I say to Boston, “Just going to get a drink.” I feel him watching me as I saunter away. And this time, I don’t move to another part of the room, I actually leave.
Take that, asshole.