20. Chapter Twenty #2
“Do I?” Raul hauls me closer to him, even more roughly, and I wince. “You’re going to tell me how to treat my wife? Though I suppose it turns out she’s still the common whore—”
Stephen rips Raul off me, and he drags him, hand around his throat, against the wall of my parents’ mansion. His action is so sudden and so strong that terror seizes me for a moment. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him lose control.
“Stephen, don’t,” I cry. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Your wife?” Stephen’s tone is more intimidating than I’ve ever heard it. “A real man would never speak to his wife like you just did. A real man would never put his hands on his wife like you just did.”
“You think you’re the real man here?” Raul grits out. “I’ll have you charged with assault for this.”
Stephen’s hand seems to tighten, and Raul gasps.
“If you lay another hand on your wife in anger ever again,” Stephen says, voice pitched so low I almost can’t hear, “assault will be the least of your worries when it comes to me. I know this entire island in ways you’d wish I didn’t.”
“Let him go,” I say, and it’s only then that I realize I’m crying, one hand massaging my bicep that aches from where Raul grabbed me. “Just let him go.”
Stephen tenses and stares down Raul for another beat before stepping back. Raul comes off the wall, shoving Stephen, but he might as well be trying to push a brick wall. Stephen smirks and stays where he is.
“Raul,” my father calls from the doorway to the ballroom. “Come get a drink with me. Some investors want to chat.”
“This isn’t fucking over,” Raul says, glaring at Stephen and then turning his wrath on me. “You know the consequences of betraying me, and I’ll take everything that’s rightfully mine.”
My shoulders shake on a sob, and I try to stifle it, hold it in.
Landon. My company. I cover my face, trying to keep myself together.
God, I can’t be crying in the backyard of my parents’ mansion at a fucking wine auction.
Now is not the time. He’s drunk. Didn’t clearly see what he thinks he saw. But if I can’t convince him…
“He doesn’t mean it,” I cry. “He doesn’t mean it.”
“Ava,” Stephen says, trying to draw me into his embrace.
I step away, wiping my tears, trying to gather what’s left of my senses.
No matter what, I can’t give the wrong impression to more people tonight.
Raul is so drunk, and his memory is bad when he’s been drinking.
Other people will remind him of that if I can hold myself together.
“I’m sorry about that. That shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t apologize for him,” Stephen says, his tone brimming with anger again. “Does he behave like that normally? Do I need to do something about this?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No. Never. He’s never. He wouldn’t.”
“He just did.”
“It’s the stress of the strike and everything happening with The Nile. He just… He drank too much. This isn’t… This isn’t normal.”
“He’s never laid a hand on you in anger before?”
“He’s never had a reason to.”
“There’s never a reason.”
“What he said, he didn’t mean it.” I shake my head.
“I don’t care if he meant it,” Stephen says. “He can come after me all he wants as long as he doesn’t lay one fucking hand on you.”
“I can fix this,” I say, running my hands along the sides of my dress.
Stephen’s forehead pinches, and he opens his mouth to say more just as his phone buzzes audibly. His frown deepens, and when he takes it out of his pocket, he grimaces.
“Sorry. I have to take this.” He steps away and puts his back toward me before answering.
I run my fingers underneath my eyes, drawing them back to check for makeup before doing it again.
If I’m going into the ballroom to pretend everything is fine, then I need to look the part.
Scanning the bank of windows, I try to remember the door that’s closest to the bathroom, that gives me the least chance of running into anyone else, having questions asked.
“I have to go,” Stephen says, returning to my side. “Are you actually okay?” He scans me from head to toe, but it’s clear he’s preoccupied now, that something else has the bulk of his attention.
“He was really drunk,” I say. “He probably won’t even remember the fight in the morning.” The breeze off the ocean catches my hair, tossing it across my cheek.
Stephen’s hand lifts as though to brush it back, and then we both seem to realize at the same time that he can’t, and we rock back from each other.
His phone buzzes in the hand that’s still at his side, and he checks the display. With a deep sigh, he turns on his heel and heads toward the parking lot, where his car must be.
“You know,” my mother’s voice drifts toward me as she steps into the light on the patio, “I’m grateful I raised girls with some common sense.
Girls who married men who improved their station in life or at least matched it.
Not sure I’d call a hockey player an improvement, but at least he isn’t still poor. ”
“Mom,” I say with a sigh, turning to face her.
“Raul was quite wound up when he came back into the ballroom. He’s very drunk, so at least there’s that.”
“He misunderstood,” I say.
“Did he? I had Datu check the security footage, and I’m not sure Raul is the one who misunderstood.”
“Stephen thought he was protecting me,” I say. “You can just erase that, right? Say the protesters messed with the cameras. I don’t want Stephen getting into trouble because Raul was too rough with me.”
“Ava, we don’t need another scandal in this family. I don’t want you dragging the Tucker name through the mud over an old teenage crush.”
“Then erase the footage,” I say, tipping my chin up. “It’ll be Raul’s drunk word against my sober recollections if he tries to go after Stephen.”
“I can trust that you know how to satisfy your husband so it doesn’t come to that, I hope. Renew his faith in his place as the man of the household? Make him believe that you’d never do what he’s starting to suspect you’ll do?”
Revulsion climbs up my throat, but I know the game I’m expected to play, the role I have to fulfill.
“I would never risk the life I have with Raul for a meaningless affair.” The words come out without hesitation because they’re true.
I have never and I would never risk my company and my child for something or someone inconsequential.
It’s just that despite what I used to tell myself, Stephen’s never been either of those things.