Chapter 3
SOREN
“Soren!”
I groaned internally at the sound of Jude calling my name. I’d fallen asleep with a book in my hand last night and forgot to set an alarm, up too late reading about a life I wish was my own.
Okay, maybe I didn’t truly wish to live the life of the main character of a Stephen King novel, but escapism was escapism.
“Coming!” I replied, getting out of bed, pulling a robe over my nightgown, and stepping into my slippers. Jude didn’t like to be kept waiting.
I came down the stairs to the kitchen where Jude was seated at the table, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper.
Fuck.
I didn’t realize just how badly I’d slept in this morning. Seeing Jude have his coffee and breakfast already in front of him was a bad enough sign that I was very late.
Usually, it was me who cooked breakfast for Jude and got him the newspaper. But I refused to believe he had gotten it together himself.
“Good morning, Mrs. Peirano,” a stout older woman said from the sink, already cleaning the dishes from breakfast.
“Soren, this is Martha,” Jude said, not taking his eyes away from the paper. “She’ll be staying with us and taking care of things for a while. I require your presence at an upcoming business meeting.”
I didn’t know whether to feel excited about the fact that I’d get to leave the house or worried.
Jude rarely let me leave the house anymore unless I was under the watchful eye of him or one of his watchdogs.
I only went out on the town a couple of nights a week, if that.
It had dwindled down to once every couple months, if I was lucky.
None of the girls I went out with wanted to feel watched all night.
Plus, Jude didn’t like it when I drank anyway.
“Nice to meet you, Martha,” I said, making my way to where Jude was seated at the table.
“Good morning, love,” I said to Jude, pecking him on the cheek.
I pulled a chair out and took a seat next to him, waiting for the shoe to drop and my punishment for not being awake in time to greet the new maid and prepare his food.
He always preferred me to be punctual, else I became an embarrassment to him and made him late.
I took this time to take in my husband’s features.
He was someone men looked at and wanted to be friends with, and who the ladies looked at and wanted to fuck.
His hair was a warm blonde color, and his smile could light up a room.
It was in the depths of his ocean-blue eyes that gave away the coldness within him.
Jude’s eyes snapped to mine, and I quickly looked away, realizing I’d been caught staring.. Making eye contact with a man like him was a mistake, a sign of disrespect.
Strike two for the day.
“We’ll be going away this weekend to your mother’s house,” Jude said, giving his attention back to the paper. He was acting nonchalant, but I knew not to see it as a sign of hope.
I bit my tongue and swallowed my response of “she’s not my mother” before I blurted it out and caught strike three. Every time he mentioned Lilah and said she was my mother, which he did to spite me, bile rose in my throat. I could hardly stand her as it was.
Lilah would never be half the woman my mother was.
Even though I’d never known my mother, from what I’d gathered from my father’s stories and the pictures he would show me, she was an amazing, one of a kind soul.
She’d been caught up in the violence of being a crime lord’s wife and been taken from us shortly after I was born.
My father had never been able to recover from that loss.
Sometimes I wonder if he died of a broken heart.
I knew in my soul that he didn’t marry Lilah because he loved her.
Even if he truly did, she didn’t deserve it.
There was no way anyone could love a woman as vile and manipulative as her.
“Okay, my love,” I replied, twisting a piece of my hair between my fingers. I could see the split ends getting worse, but for some reason I couldn’t cut it. It was a comfort to me, and I had an irrational fear of cutting even an inch of my hair.
“We’ll be leaving tonight once I return home,” he continued. “Make sure our bags are packed so we can leave soon after.”
“Of course, love,” I replied obediently.
Jude insisted on being called “love”. He’d shit bricks if I ever called him by his government name. In the beginning, I adored calling him by something sweet. Now the pet names felt like poison on my tongue. They held no love or meaning anymore.
Jude neatly folded the newspaper and laid it down on the table, sipping the last of his coffee from the mug in front of him.
“Thank you, Martha,” Jude said, giving her a big smile that I knew to be fake. I watched as Martha returned it, not at all able to see through his mask quite yet. For her own benefit, I hoped she learned sooner than later to see through his facade.
“Goodbye, Soren. I’ll text you when I’m close to home tonight so you can bring the bags out and we can leave,” Jude said, planting a kiss on the top of my head.
I didn’t let out a breath until he was out the door, and I knew for now I’d evaded his wrath. Of all the things I refused to believe, Jude softening up was the biggest of them all. He would never spare me any kindness ever again.
It was likely he was saving my punishment for later tonight when we were alone. He kept up the nice husband and happy marriage charade up in front of people, but behind closed doors he was a much darker man.
After he became a monster, and showed the true darkness of his soul, he would always remain a monster in my mind, and I would always be his unwilling victim.
It made me think about the first time he showed the darkest parts of himself over something so simple.
We were at dinner one night at one of the fanciest restaurants in Providence not long after the deal between Jude and Lilah had been finalized and we were celebrating in a sense.
Jude was celebrating the woman he’d bought, and I was celebrating being free for the first time since my father died, and that some old man hadn’t won. Although I teased him like he was since he was a couple years older than I was.
I had confided this to Jude like a fool and how I was so happy for this new stepping stone of my life. How I hoped we could be happy together and tell this crazy story to our grandchildren one day of how we’d met.
I felt like we talked for hours from the appetizer until the dessert, when his first red flag showed, and I made the mistake of brushing it off.
Our waiter was a younger man, similar to my age from what I could tell, and had been shamelessly flirting with me since he introduced himself.
I brushed it off and smiled politely and at first Jude did his best to ignore him, but each time the waiter came to the table, I could tell his patience was becoming thinner and thinner.
“Can I get you something for dessert, gorgeous?” He asked, and before I had the chance to respond, Jude slammed his hand on the table, practically silencing the entire restaurant.
“Flirt with my wife again, and I’ll cut your tongue out,” Jude hissed in a low tone, and a shrill of terror ran down my spine at his words and the seriousness of his tone. From the fire in his eyes, I knew he was serious about his threat and would hurt this man and not blink an eye.
I should have listened to my gut during that first instance and walked away while I could.
Because the next morning, that same waiter showed up on the news, missing and presumed dead.
For fuck’s sake.
It was wintertime in Providence, and freezing balls outside while I waited for Jude to pull up.
He’d texted me ten minutes ago that he was five minutes away, but here I was, still waiting.
I knew if I even took a step back towards the house, he’d roll up and see me changing course, and it’d be my strike four for the day.
I’d carefully packed our bags, making sure everything was in there that he may need. I’d been packing for him long enough that I don’t think there was anything that I could forget.
When you’re married and have known someone for so long, it’s normal to know their tells, their little flaws, and the way they like things.
But I didn’t memorize everything about Jude out of love.
I did it out of survival.
I could write an entire book on all the things Jude had smacked me around for.
Forgetting about his toothbrush.
Turning the thermostat up in the dead of winter.
Making eye contact with one of our drivers.
I’m pretty sure that same driver was floating in one of the rivers since I never saw him again after that day. There’s no such thing as just plain getting fired in this world. It’s either kill or be killed.
I didn’t want to know how many people had died at the hands of my husband because of me.
I never knew there was such rage within a person before. I never thought this would be my life. And you never do either. You never think “hey, I’m going to be forced into a marriage with an abusive, narcissistic asshole!”
This was not the life I imagined for myself. Not in a million damn years.
Insanely bright headlights from a black Audi blinded me, signaling the arrival of my dear husband. I grabbed our bags, ready to put them in the car, when he turned off the engine and got out.
“Change of plans. Randy is going to drive us to the airstrip and we’re going to take the jet,” Jude barked, loosening his tie as he walked towards the front door to wait alongside me.
Bad day at the office?
As if he could sense he was being summoned, Randy pulled up the black Rolls Royce and smoothly got out of the driver’s seat to open the door for us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Peirano,” Randy greeted with a nod.
“Thank you, Randy,” Jude replied, getting into the backseat, with me close behind. After Randy shut the door and loaded up the bags, we were off to the airstrip.