Chapter 8 #2
Angelica Wright sounds like the kind of woman who should be admired. Too bad she married a cruel, cheating asshole who used all her resources and drained the life out of her.
Chewing on the food, I look at him again and notice that he just picks at the vegetables and doesn’t even touch the fish.
My curiosity can’t be helped, so I ask, “You don’t like seafood?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.”
So they cooked all this just for me?
“Let me know if Matilda gives you a hard time. She might be overbearing at times.”
Not sure if it’s a trap or a test, I reply, “She means well.” My father taught me that you can’t trust a thing a man says, so maybe he’s acting all nice now to make me lose my guard and find my weak spots to strike should the need arise.
Though this marriage is a very straightforward business deal, one never knows, so I'd better stay guarded.
Or that’s my excuse not to fall for his charms.
“There is a reason people say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
“I always found it interesting that such a proverb exists as if warning people from doing good deeds.” My thoughts on this topic aren’t something anyone would want to hear, so a nervous laugh spills from my lips.
“I thought proverbs were supposed to guide people back in the day on how to live properly. To encourage the greater good and sacrifices for society to get to eternal heaven in the afterlife.”
I tense inwardly when he lifts a brow, ready for his scolding or snarky remark that usually follows my opinions at home, but I blink in surprise when he says, “Greater good doesn’t exist. It’s an illusion designed for us to make countless sacrifices that won’t mean shit to anyone, and I guess whoever came up with this proverb knew it. ”
All my hesitation forgotten, I frown and lean forward. “Sometimes people do things without expecting anything in return. Not everyone is selfish.”
He clicks his tongue. “That’s where you’re wrong. We are all selfish in some aspects of our lives. And, besides…all our actions are dictated mostly by fear, desire to please, or to chase the happiness that evades us. This makes it easy to manipulate certain people into doing what you want.”
“That’s a very warped way of thinking.” I dig my fork into the salmon again and hum at the taste when the spices hit my tongue. My cheeks heat when his face darkens, and I quickly swallow and drink some water. “It sounds like we have no free will.”
“To an extent, we don’t. Our traumas, instincts, and emotions rule us, and we rarely, if ever, listen to common sense.
And when we do, it usually happens after life shows us how foolish we’ve been.
” He claps his hands together, and classic jazz music echoes through the dining room.
It casts a rather magical yet gloomy spell around us, and I gasp when most of the lights go off.
The single chandelier in the room becomes the only source of light, creating an even more intimate atmosphere.
Except it’s ruined the minute he speaks up.
“I know it’s a hard concept to grasp for you, which is unfortunate. ”
I bristle at his condescending tone. Clearly, the asshole from earlier is back. “Contrary to what you believe, I’m not stupid.”
Although for such an accomplished man, I might as well be. Not that it changes anything.
He can go to hell with this way of thinking. I’ve had enough of this bullshit at home.
“Never said you were. You are naive and empathic. A more dangerous combination than stupidity.”
“And why is that?”
“All three can be exploited, but naivety and empathy push us to do things we do not wish to do. Because either we believe in the greater good or feel sorry for those who should never be pitied.” He waits a beat and delivers his next verbal blow.
“Your family treated you like shit their whole lives, yet the minute they needed help, they told you to jump. And all you did was ask how high instead of telling them to fuck off.” Anger drips from his every word, and I wonder if it’s on my behalf.
Or is it disgust?
Shoving more food into my mouth because I want to be done with this dinner as soon as possible, I ponder what to say.
Mentioning my grandmother to him wouldn’t be smart.
I’d be handing him yet another weapon against me.
I can’t visit her much anyway, and she doesn’t recognize me, which leads to hard episodes afterward.
That’s why it was so important for me to provide her with the best care possible.
At least in this hospital, they take care of her, and she’s comfortable.
“Strength is not always about confrontation or telling someone off. Sometimes we have to do what we don’t want in order to secure a future we crave.
” My ambiguous reply is met with silence.
“I imagine that’s a hard concept to grasp for you.
We aren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouths, in a castle surrounded by people who cater to our every whim.
” The delicious dinner now tastes like grass in my mouth, I still eat it because starvation is not in my plans.
My eyes jump to him when I hear his chair scraping against the marble as he gets up, going to the minibar where he picks up a whiskey bottle and flicks the top off, pouring himself a generous amount.
Once done, he drops several ice cubes in his glass and shakes it a little as he focuses his attention back to me, leaning his shoulder against the wall and studying me.
It causes heat to travel through my body.
“If I always had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, we wouldn’t be married.
” He takes a sip from his glass. “So, you see, Wife, the parents can screw up even the most privileged lives.”
And just like that, he pushes me into a metaphorical cold pool, reminding me he’s no different from all these men I’ve encountered over the years.
Why did I expect this to be anything else?
Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I get up and plaster the smile on my face that I perfected to a T with my father. “I’m done. Please give my thanks to Leon. I’d like to go upstairs and get some rest. It was an eventful day.”
Spinning around, I go back to the living room and catch a glimpse of the fountain statue again, its beauty exceptional in the moonlight. Halting my movements, I stare at it, still wondering who it could be from the myth.
“Orion.”
I jump at the nearness of his voice, warmth enveloping my back.
I turn, and my chest bumps into Orion’s, his whiskey breath fanning my lips as his masculine scent twitches my nose, all while tickling sensations zip all over me.
He must read the confusion on my face as he points at the statue. “The hero portrayed there is Orion.”
As in an outstanding hunter in ancient Greek mythology, infamous for his beauty and towering height, who some people considered a giant?
While heroes in mythologies rarely caught my interest, I read several variations of the Orion myth because they mostly featured Artemis.
In one particular myth, they used to be close friends who bonded over hunting, while in another, he tried to rape her, so she punished him for it and killed him. There was also one in which he was bitten by a scorpion, a punishment for vowing to kill all animals.
They all sounded uninteresting to me, and I just assumed he wasn’t a character I wanted to read much about.
Until one day, I stumbled across the version that broke my heart and made me ache for the things I never knew, wondering how life could be cruel even to the immortals.
According to some myths, they had romantic feelings for each other despite Artemis vowing to remain a virgin goddess and never marry.
This didn’t please her twin brother, Apollo, who created a scheme where he challenged Artemis’s hunting skills and pointed at the barely visible target in the water.
She took the challenge head-on and sent her arrow flying, not knowing it was actually Orion’s head, thus killing him.
Heartbroken, she created a constellation named after him, so she could always look at him, while still keeping to her word and never letting a man or god touch her.
I never put much thought into my husband’s name until now, realizing how it connects to mine.
“Your mother liked the myth about Orion and Artemis?” I take a step back, needing to put some space between us.
“You mentioned the fact that she was fascinated that someone you love so much could kill you.”
“She loved myths. Her life had been too tragic to believe in fairy tales, and she associated herself with Orion to a degree, and maybe that’s why she named me after him. In the end, her love killed her. Just like it killed Orion.”
He steps forward, and I push back, stumbling a little. I gasp when his arm wraps around my waist, bringing me closer to him, and my splayed palms end up on his chest. The ring glistens under the moonlight, reminding me that this virile, handsome man is my husband. “Careful, Diana.”
“I have to go,” I whisper, our lips a hair’s breadth apart while my fingers curl on his chest. An unfamiliar fire spreads through my veins, and my mind screams for me to run.
Run from the man who will no doubt hurt me.
Because the chaos and emotions he awakens within me threaten the carefully built internal walls I have erected over the years to protect me from the inevitable.
Falling for a man who would destroy me, and that’s something my torn-to-shreds soul cannot allow.
I won’t ever give a man such power over me, and my mother taught me this valuable lesson from a very young age.