11

When I finally checked my messages on the phone I didn’t entirely trust, I had seven emails from Jenny. The last one simply read, if you don’t answer me, I’m coming to find you. Since we’d kept in touch no matter what else was going on, I didn’t doubt her.

Sorry, I’ve been so busy since the wedding. What’s new with you?

Jenny wrote back, a long, breezy email about the assholes in her computer science program. Those problems distracted me from my own, and I replied. We even Skyped, like in the old days, and I listened with half an ear for the door to open. Nothing but silence.

I ate alone, slept alone, and I even put on workout clothes to see if he’d kept his promise about talking to Vin. The bodyguard didn’t object, and we went running in the park. He stayed five feet behind me no matter what pace I set. I was tense by the time I got back to the condo and waited for some sign that I hadn’t been abandoned. That evening, I was braced for a stranger to deliver divorce papers.

On the third day, Michael finally came home. When he did, he brought flowers. Warily I took the white roses, trying to contain my urge to flinch away from the hand that then dropped onto my head. I shivered, controlling my reaction with significant effort.

“You’re upset,” he said. “I may have overreacted, but the idea of losing you … it drives me crazy. I only reacted that way because I love you so much.”

When he put a pretty pink diamond ring on my finger to conclude the apology, I let him draw me close and rested my head on his chest, vowing not to make him feel insecure again. I’d never considered myself irresistible, but Michael clearly thought other men couldn’t see me without wanting me.

Stroking my back, he went on. “Men are animals, Marlena. You’re too innocent to understand that, and that’s why I have to fight twice as hard to keep you that way.”

I swallowed hard. What would Michael say if I told him I already knew? One of my mother’s boyfriends had shown me when I was eleven, and then later, Bobby Ray Hudgens reinforced the lesson. Before, I’d never thought those violations made me dirty, but I had no doubt my husband would feel that way. He’d probably think I was some little Lolita, seducing men with a sway of my hips.

“Oh.” It was the only sound I could make.

My lack of response didn’t matter because he was in the mood to talk. “I’ve never told you this … because I’m not proud of it, but I was married before. She … left me. And it took a long time for me to get over that.”

Left you? Is that what you’re calling it? My heart hardened into titanium, untouchable, impenetrable. But I couldn’t let on how much I already knew—about his past, and I couldn’t think on it too deeply or he might read that awareness in my expression. I understood far too well to be drawn in by diamond rings and repentant smiles.

But I kept up the pretense. “There’s never been anyone else,” I said softly.

“I do know. It’s part of what makes you perfect. But sometimes I lose the thread, and I’m sorry for that.”

It amused me to test him, though, and to see how he’d respond. “I went running in the park yesterday. Vin took me. But there was nothing personal about it.”

Michael nodded. “He gave me a full report before I came in. Now that I’ve had some time, I know you weren’t leading him on. And what happened with Will Stone, well, he’s a lecher, but that’s not your fault.”

It was tough to get the words out, but I could only cower for so long. “Next time you’re upset, if you could dial it down … I was really scared.”

There, I said it.

“I’ll never hurt you,” Michael said. “You are my most precious possession, and it’s my greatest joy to protect you.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted an I’m sorry, I’ll do better, like he always forced out of me. And the fact was, he had hurt me. I had a circular bruise around my wrist from where he’d hauled me around and another on my hip due to my tumble over the ottoman, deep and blue, fading to green. I bit in the inside of my lip against an instinctive protest. I’m not your possession. I’m not.

“Okay,” I said.

For months, I walked on eggshells, me taking lessons and Michael traveling as much as he stayed home. I made sure not to do anything that would anger him when he was around. It got to the point that I sighed a little in relief as soon as he took his travel case and left for the airport. Nothing had been solved; I was still somewhat afraid of him and he still didn’t trust me.

How little became clear when I dropped my cell in the bathroom and it bounced into pieces. I swore, kneeling to collect them, but I didn’t think it be could repaired. Seconds later, Vin rushed into the room, drawing up short when he saw me in my robe, bits of broken phone in my hand. I stared, because there was no way in hell he could’ve heard such a small sound from outside the penthouse.

When he didn’t speak, I said, “Explain yourself. Now.”

“Mr. Durst texted me. He said I should check on you.”

“Why?” Deep down, I knew. I must have known, but I wanted him to say it.

“Because he lost your signal.”

“Which means there’s a tracking device on my phone, and he knows where I am at all times.”

I glanced around the bathroom, wondering how far this obsession went. Were there cameras in here so Michael could watch me piss from Germany? Sometimes I masturbated in the tub—long, luxurious orgasms—and a cold wave broke over me. That probably didn’t fit with his mental perception of my supposed purity.

Vin seemed to be reading my mind. “There’s no surveillance in the condo, as far as I know. It stops in the foyer.”

Relief all but drowned me … and how pathetic that I should be grateful for privacy in the fucking bathroom. I wasn’t sure I could trust Vin, but he had no reason to lie, either. As I thought about it, I decided it made sense: because, if Michael could check on me via some illicit video feed, he wouldn’t have sent Vin in, where I could tempt him with my irresistible wiles.

“Good to know,” I muttered. “You can go now, unless you’re staying for the show.”

I slid my robe off one shoulder, more an angry gesture than a seductive one. The bodyguard’s gaze never shifted from my face. “No thank you, madam. I need to report to Mr. Durst.”

“How can you work for someone like him? He’s basically holding me hostage and you don’t seem to care.”

Vin paused. He’d already stepped out of the bathroom into the hall. “I just work for the man. You’re the one who married him. If you’re unhappy, leave.”

“Would you even let me?”

At that, he turned. “If it’s your genuine desire to flee, I won’t stop you. But you should go before he gets back and hide yourself thoroughly. Mr. Durst is not a man who takes rejection well.”

I’d recently read an article about how women who married up were screwed by the rich men they were trying to leave. The men hired high-power lawyers and accused their soon-to-be-exes of all the sins they’d committed: abuse, infidelity, and more. When I took Michael on, it would require careful planning.

This isn’t the time.

I just had to suck it up and live with what he dished out. If Durst followed his usual playbook, then I could respond in kind—with measures I’d already taken. But it was important to go step by step, or everything might fall apart. I couldn’t let Durst get away, even if it meant suffering like this.

“He’d probably take it out on you, then,” I said. “If you let me go. So I won’t do anything that’ll explode in your face. Come to think of it, I’ll tell him personally that I can’t stand it anymore. I have to be brave, right?”

Vin startled visibly, his brows shooting up. “Don’t factor me into your calculations. I can take care of myself.”

He left without looking at me again, but things were different after that. Sometimes he spoke to me when we ran in the park and he brought me coffee from my favorite cafe once a week. No longer did he call me “madam” in that icy tone, either. Occasionally I made him smile, such a delicious break from his normal severity. Since we couldn’t run side by side, I talked him into getting Bluetooth earpieces so we could chat with no trail for Michael to follow. Vin didn’t argue over it, a sign that he felt closer to me. I never pushed him, never touched him, but I wanted his friendship. Needed it.

There might come a day where my life depended on it.