Chapter 45
Cori
“Daxton!” I slam the door that connects to the garage with enough force to bring down the entire house, but there’s no sign of my husband. Not even that mongrel comes running to sniff me.
I slam my purse on the counter and run up the back staircase. The asshole is not upstairs. I check his office and my sewing room, and he’s not there. I slam the sewing room door shut, but something dawns, and I burst back into the room.
“Oh, no, no, no!” All of my fabrics are gone, along with the Bernina, but worse than that, my grandmother’s sewing machine is gone, too.
“You went too far now, you jerk!” I slam the door shut and dial his number again.
It goes right to voicemail, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he blocked me.
“Answer me, you jackass.” I dial again, and I get a recorded message that says the number is not available.
“I’m going to find you, and I’m going to kill you. ”
The words are in vain, and I spend the next hour driving through Shadow Cove looking for one of my husband’s cars. I’m so desperate that I call his mother.
“Hey, sweetheart. This is a nice surprise.” I take a breath of relief at her tone. Whatever Daxton is doing, he hasn’t turned his mother against me, and I’m relieved. At least for now. There’s no telling what that snake will do next.
“Hey, Momma Had. Um, have you seen Dax? He’s not picking up his phone, and I want to talk to him about Corine’s Creations. He promised he’d help me.” I make sure to sound pouty enough to concern his mother.
“I talked to him a few hours ago.”
“Did he say anything about going out of town?”
“Oh, sweetheart, he doesn’t tell me anything about that.
” There’s something about the tone of her voice that makes me think she’s not being truthful, but I keep those thoughts to myself.
I need to find this asshole now and ask him why he thinks he can humiliate me the way he did today.
I don’t have time to question his mother.
“Okay. If you hear from him before I do, tell him to call me. But let’s do lunch soon. What’s your schedule looking like on Friday?”
We make plans to see each other, and I end the call. After driving around again, I still can’t find the idiot. I’d call Eden, but she actually trusts her husband and doesn’t question him. Eden’s car is parked at her job, but I don’t stop by to ask her.
I have no choice but to go back home and wait. My stomach growls, so I go back, make myself lunch, and prepare for the confrontation of my life.
While I wait, my mind wanders to a place I never thought it would.
What if he has changed his mind about being married to me, and this is his way of ending the relationship?
If that’s the case, I should be relieved.
My mother had the surgery. It’s been a success, and she’s on her way to recovery.
Even if Daxton doesn’t pay for the additional treatment, the surgery is already complete.
I should be happy to be done with him and this sham of a marriage, but I’m not.
There is no way he’s going to be the one who leaves me.
If anyone is going to leave this marriage, it’s not going to be Daxton Hunt, master manipulator. It’s going to be me, and he’s going to be devastated. So, why do I feel sick at the thought of him walking away?
Not only did I eat lunch alone, but dinner was a solitary affair as well. He’s trapped me in this house with no access to money. He’s not only cut off the credit cards he gave me, but also the couple I had before this marriage.
I tried to leave the house to search for him again, but my car had been disabled and would not start.
I had no choice but to come back inside and wait.
The man is better at playing the waiting game than I am.
In the many hours I’ve been stuck in this prison, I’ve imagined ripping his face off at least two dozen times.
My calls to him continue to go nowhere. I can’t even leave a message. The hours drag on, and it’s almost ten o’clock when I hear his heavy footsteps. That mutt is with him. I can hear her paws against the tiled floor.
He turns on the light in the kitchen, but does not react when he sees me sitting at the counter. He doesn’t address me at all, but he opens the fridge and quickly slams it when he notices that it’s empty.
“All the food is in the trash in the garage. You want to go get it? Maybe you and your mutt can share it.” His eyes narrow at me. He takes a slow step forward, and I hop off the chair, waiting to do battle. He walks past me, his shoulder just brushing against mine.
I follow him upstairs, and that mongrel walks behind me.
“What the fuck?” I ask. He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor. I block his path to the bathroom, but he puts his hands on my hips, walks me to the bed and drops me like I’m a bag of trash.
I lie there and wait, and seconds later, he storms into the room like I knew his dumb ass would.
“Where’s my body wash?” He yanks the closet open, and when he doesn’t find anything, he looks through my drawers, pulling out all my clothes in the process.
“Where’s my fucking money?” I snap. He lets out a big, fake belly laugh.
“You ain’t got none, broke ass.” He walks his sexy, naked body closer and points to my face. “I married a brokie, and your broke ass is broke.”
“Are those your big, fancy college words?”
“Yeah. Let me hear yours.” His eyes narrow at me. I stomp back to the bed and throw a pillow at him. He moves, and I miss.
“I married a thief because you left two dollars in my bank account. How the hell did you even get in there? I didn’t give you access.”
“I don’t need permission to do shit.” He gestures at me.
“You should know that by now, wife.” He says 'wife' with so much disdain that I almost take a step back. Almost, but I’m not about to cower to him or any other man. “Just like I didn’t need permission to take you. So, yeah. I took your little coins.”
“Little? I had—”
“Yeah, little. All that money in there was mine. You think I didn’t know you were moving money around?
Taking it from my account and putting it into yours?
” He gets closer and pokes his finger on my chest. I try to knock his hand away, but can’t.
“And speaking of thieves, you were going to take another hundred grand from me to buy that worthless cousin of yours a car. I wouldn’t give her a dollar store pack of pens, never mind a luxury SUV. ”
I take a step back at his words. I figured he was upset about my paying the mortgage, but I had no idea he knew about the car.
“Not all of it was yours. I had thousands in there that I managed to save, but how do you know about the car?”
“I read your texts.” My eyes widen at his admission.
“Yeah, I figured out your code. And the car is the least of it, isn’t it?
” He gets closer. I move back until I hit the wall, but he doesn’t give me space.
He crowds me so much, I fear he will push his naked body into mine.
“You thought you could play with my emotions.” He lowers his voice, but I swear I hear a tinge of hurt, and for a moment, I feel a sense of shame take over me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I try to slide past him, but he presses his body into mine, trapping me. “I don’t play games like that.”
“Look at me in the eyes when you lie to me.” I jut out my chin and refuse to make eye contact. “I knew you were a liar, but you’ve sunk to a new low.”
The fucking audacity of this man to do all this shit and play victim. Part of me wants to call him out and tell him I know every dirty thing he’s done, but I want to see how far he takes this before I pull the rug out from under him.
“I’ve sunk to a new low?” I point at myself and laugh. “Me? Yeah, okay. I’ve never bought a wife, so you can take your fake sanctimonious ass out my fucking face. I don’t buy your hurt.”
“Hurt?” He arches a brow. “Well, aren’t we full of ourselves? You can’t hurt me, sweetheart. You can’t best me either. You don’t have what it takes. Now, where’s my fucking body wash?”
“Then, why are you so angry, huh? For someone who can’t be hurt by me, you sure seem butthurt. And as for your pretentious ass body wash, I poured it all down the drain. It’s gone. It went before that expensive cologne you wear, and if you don’t give me back my money, I’ll—”
“You ain’t gonna do shit!” he thunders. “Not one God damn thing. I’m going to figure out a way to take that house from that cousin of yours. Even if I can’t, I’ll keep her in litigation so long that she’ll go broke and will have to sell the damn house. I’ll buy it and set it on fire!”
“Don’t talk about my cousin!” He wraps his hand around my wrist before my palm could make contact with his cheek. He squeezes it and shoves it down, so I push his chest. He doesn’t budge. “I hate you so much.”
“Oh, I know. It’s obvious, but lucky for me, I was in no danger of falling in love with a manipulator like you.”
“Yeah, I’m the manipulator. You manipulated, lied, and blackmailed me into marrying you, and you dare to be shocked that I would fight back.” I poke his chest, and the bastard flexes and grins. “And now you’re trying to abuse me, just like I knew you would.”
“For the last fucking time, it was a bribe, not blackmail. And ain’t nobody trying to abuse your lying-ass. You love throwing that word around. Keep it up.” He lowers his voice, and he looks me up and down. “And I will.”
“You’re already doing it. Financial abuse is abuse.” I give him the same look he just gave me. “And try something else. You’ll go to sleep and never wake up. I promise you that.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Financial abuse? Says the woman who just paid off a mortgage and drives a six-figure car. Do you want me to tell you how much you've spent on brunches and spa treatments lately? Do you know how much you spent on your little trip to New York for your rabid cousin? You’ve been transferring money from my account to yours like it’s an Olympic sport.
” He runs the back of his hand on my cheek. “Still the skin of a snake.”
“Get your damn hand off me.” He drops his hand and takes a step away as if he can’t stand to be close to me.
“But go ahead. Tell everyone I financially abuse you. I have receipts, sweetheart.”
I grab a pillow and hit him in the middle of his retreating back. “I want a divorce!”
“We said til death, so unless you plan on killing us both, I’d shut the hell up! I wifed you when nobody else wanted the job.”
“You did what?” I ask, aghast at his statement.
“I. Wifed. You.” He points at me. “Are you deaf?” He slams the bathroom door behind him, and when I try to go in to continue the argument, the door is locked.
“Asshole!”
I haven’t seen him since he stormed out of the bathroom and out of the bedroom. I’m not sure if I felt relief or disappointment. My stomach growls, and I’m regretting throwing away every scrap of food in the house.
It’s a real problem since I have no money or car. At least that’s what he thinks, but I took the car keys to one of his fancy sports cars, and I plan on returning it with scratches and a noticeable dent. I also took all the cash out of his wallet and stole one of his credit cards.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice makes me freeze, but I don’t give him the courtesy of a response. I listen as he talks to his dog and puts food in his dish, so I make a note to get rid of the dog food too.
“I want my grandmother’s sewing machine back, along with all the material that I had before this unholy union from hell. I want my money back, too.”
“No.” He opens the cupboard and slams it so hard that the dog whimpers in fear.
“You have no right to take those things.”
“I decide what I have a right to take. And I can’t give back that ugly-ass sewing machine. I destroyed it along with everything else. Your materials, sketches, and all that shit in that sewing room are gone. Poof.” He snaps his fingers. “Just disappeared.”
I blink a few times while I absorb his words. He gives me a smug look and walks to Finch. He leans down, rubs behind her ears, and talks soothingly to her.
I grab a mug and throw it at his head with all my strength. He moves. I miss. The mug shatters and falls to the floor. Finch runs out of the room.
The man I married stands to his full height and narrows his eyes at me.
I’ve never seen him so angry and so full of hate, and for the first time since I laid eyes on him, I fear him.
Instead of slowly backing away, I sprint out of the kitchen, but he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me off the ground with one arm.
He runs to the living room and dumps me on the couch.
I back away, but I hit the arm and have nowhere else to go.
He holds both my wrists with one hand and takes off my new diamond bracelet.
He tosses it to the floor like it’s garbage.
He then slides his other hand around to the back of my jeans.
He reaches into the back pocket and pulls out the cash and the credit card.
He drops my wrist as if it’s on fire and puts the stolen goods in his wallet. He walks away without a word, but I let out a scream, run, and jump on his back. He takes a few steps back but manages to remain standing while I try to take him in a headlock.
He walks back to the couch as if I’m nothing more than a nuisance. He takes my arm, moves it away from his neck, and drops me on the couch for the second time this morning. He whistles, and seconds later, he walks out of the house with his mutt.
When I run back to the kitchen, I realize that he took my purse, which has my identification, phone, and the key to his car that I stole.
I let out another loud scream, but I’m determined to find another car key. I do. He keeps them all in his office, but when I attempt to open the garage door, it’s locked.
He’s trapped me in this house without food or a way out, but if he thinks he’s won, he’s in for a rude awakening.