CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Victoria
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, not wanting Joey to see the text from my stalker. My eyes drifted to the scenery passing by as he drove us back toward the manor. Numbness settled into my veins as I watched Southside pass us by. I was vaguely aware of Joey's voice as he called someone to clean up the body we'd left behind in the alley, but it wasn't enough to pull me from my reverie.
My mind whirred with the possibility that Benson was behind everything. My attempted kidnapping outside the boutique, the creepy texts that seemed to grow more possessive and impatient, the destruction of my office, and the twisted gift left behind. It didn't add up to the information Joey had beaten out of the man in the basement of the guy's house. That man had claimed someone named Rinaldo had been behind the gala fire and the attempt to nab me there. While the name had been familiar, I couldn't quite place why, and it didn't stop my mind from latching on to the possibility that the events were unrelated.
The more I thought about the texts I'd received, the more likely it became that Benson was behind them. He'd always been possessive and controlling. It was why I'd left him two months before my mother's death. She couldn't bear to see how he'd torn me down over our three-year relationship and convinced me that it would only get worse if I stayed. I couldn't help but wonder if my alcohol-fueled lapse in judgment that night at Temptat!on when I let myself forget all the awful shit he'd done and danced with him had anything to do with his renewed interest in possessing me.
A memory tickled at the edges of my conscience, triggered by how Benson insisted I belonged to him before Joey intervened. We'd been together for two years at that point. Two years of me being on his arm at every major social event. Two years of plastering a fake smile on my face as he spoke for and over me, but never to me. We were at yet another event hosted by his father, and I made the mistake of correcting something Benson had said about me not working once we were married. When we returned to his apartment that night, all hell broke loose.
"You made me look like a fool, Victoria." He hissed, his face mottled with rage. "This nonsense about continuing to work for the center has to stop."
"Fuck you, Benson. You know I'm not giving that up. It's important to me and my mom. For you to think you could just snap your fingers and I'd become your Stepford wife is ridiculous."
He was on me in a flash. His fingers gripped my chin tight enough to bruise as he backed me up against a wall.
"You're going to be my wife. You realize how lucky that makes you?" spittle flew from his mouth, splattering on my face. "You should be over the fucking moon that I'm willing to marry you, Victoria. Nobody, and I mean nobody, else could ever want you. There isn't a man in his right mind that would want a pretentious, overweight, female like you."
"Benson, you're hurting me," I cried out, my hands grasping his wrists, trying to pull his hand from my face.
He only squeezed harder, his eyes narrowing in barely contained rage as he brought his face so close to mine our noses nearly touched. "You're only worth is what I give you, Victoria. You are mine, and you should be thrilled with that. Instead, you chose to make a fool of me, telling my father's business partner that you intend to work after we're married when you should be at home, keeping me happy."
"Let go of me," I interrupted.
"No. Not until you understand your fucking place." He hissed, his other hand clamping down on one of my wrists and wrenching my hand away from the one clutching my face. "You're fucking worthless. I've told you over and over that you need to go on a diet, you ignore me. I've told you that you need to keep your mouth shut when we attend public events. You fucking ignore me. Did you think there wouldn't be consequences? That I'd continue to take you out and let you make me look bad? I should have left your pathetic ass at home, where you belong."
He finally released me and pushed away from the wall, his chest heaving as his angry eyes kept me pinned in my place.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, letting my gaze fall to the floor.
"Are you? Or are you just sorry that you're being called out?" He spat. "Because from where I'm standing, it doesn't seem like you actually give a shit about being a worthy partner for the only man that will ever love you."
Tears welled in my eyes, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I stared at the floor. He was right. Of course, he was. I wasn't like Tiffany, who had men and women alike pining after her and wanting to bask in her presence. I'd been the girl who faded into the background all my life until Benson decided that our childhood friendship should be more.
As if sensing my shift, he closed the distance between us again.
"Hey," He murmured, pulling me to his chest and rubbing his hands along my back. "It's going to be alright. You know I can't stay mad at you."
"I know." I sniffled. "I didn't mean to make you angry."
He placed a finger below my chin and tilted my face so that I could look into his eyes. "There's not anything you can do that will make me leave you. I want you to understand that, Tory. I may get angry when you mess up, but one day you will get it right. You will be my wife someday, I promise you that."
It had taken ages for me to realize what Benson was doing wasn't right. When I finally walked away from him, it seemed like everything came crashing in. I'd felt like an idiot. What sort of person allows someone to tear them down so bad. My mother had insisted on me seeing a therapist for a time to sort through the feelings. It had helped, even though I'd stopped going the day she died. I'd regained enough of myself from it that when the guys came bursting into my life, insisting on controlling everything I did, I fought back. No man was ever going to reign over me like that again.
"Hey, you alright, Sweetheart?" Joey asked, his voice finally pulling me from my thoughts.
"That depends on what sort of trouble I'm in when we get back to the manor." I said with a chuckle that turned into a grimace at the pain of my split and swollen lip.
He offered a small smile, but the following sigh said my quip didn't land like I wanted it to. "You probably will get an earful from Rich, but he'll mean well. I'm sorry you had to deal with what happened back there… but I do wish you'd stop running from us."
I couldn't help the flash of anger that lit up in my chest at his statement. There might have been some part of me that knew he didn't mean it the way I took it, but I couldn't hear that part of my mind. Joey pulled the car into its spot and looked at me with his brows drawn together.
"Sweetheart–"
"Don't. I didn't ask for any of this. All I did was leave a conversation where I was being talked over. Do not sit there and act like I did anything wrong." I said as I got out of the car. I had to keep myself from yelling it at him, punctuating my sentence by slamming the door and storming toward the house.