23

Five minutes alone.

That was all Michael had given me, but it felt as profound a gift as when he’d handed me a Cartier box with a diamond tennis bracelet in it. Letting out a soft sigh, I went straight to the ladies’ room. There was no way to know if I was under surveillance, but it seemed wise to assume the answer was yes.

From the marble hallway, I stepped into what looked like a lounge, with opulently upholstered furniture and a makeup counter that ran the length of the wall, a huge mirror, and lighting appropriate for professional touch-ups. I’d done photo shoots in rooms that weren’t as well appointed. In places like this, sometimes it was even hard for me to remember that my family’s entire house had been about twice the size of this space, cut up into cramped little rooms with flypaper on the windows and cracks in the wood that let the winter wind slice through.

A couple of women were sitting in the anteroom, and I nodded in passing. Best to be polite—you never knew when a resting bitch face would backfire and turn into a petty feud you never wanted.

The bathroom itself was a wonderland with a uniformed maid offering hot towels to dry your hands. She also had a full array of toiletries, almost anything you could desire, along with feminine hygiene products and pain and upset stomach medicine. I smiled at her as I stepped into the large frosted-glass stall. These were supposed to be elegant, but I hated them. You could always see the other person’s shadow, watch them moving, and I was provincial enough to be bothered.

Though I had zero desire to return to the party, if I hid for too long, I’d pay later, so I finished up and washed my hands, careful not to splash my dress.

I fully expected to find Michael still bending Joanna Van Houten’s ear, but when I stepped back into the ballroom, she was once again holding court for a small circle of elite partygoers. For a lovely moment, I thought maybe Michael had abandoned me. In that case, I could call Vin to take me home and I wouldn’t have to face whatever heinous surprise Michael had in mind for afterward.

A passing waiter handed me a glass of wine, and I took it on reflex, drinking half of it before my husband could stop me. It was a small rebellion, one of the few I would allow myself.

From across the room, I finally spotted Michael, and at first I couldn’t believe my eyes. The girl he was chatting up couldn’t have been more than nineteen, slim as a sylph, with a cascade of dark curls and melting brown eyes. You could say the man had a type, because she had that same waif look that I’d worked so well early in my career. As I watched, the girl sparkled at him and tossed her hair. He brushed a curl off her shoulder, just as he used to with me, back when he was grooming me to be the perfect wife.

Did this mean I was about to be discarded? No, there was no way he’d do that without recouping his investment. What Michael had claimed, he didn’t part with casually, and he wouldn’t dispose of me until he got whatever he wanted from Joanna Van Houten. His ambition gave me a little breathing room, but I couldn’t count on being safe forever. When he was done with me, our relationship wouldn’t end in divorce. From what I’d seen, he didn’t believe in that. No, he gave his wives a much more permanent dismissal.

Just consider Dee and Leslie.

For a few seconds longer, I watched him flirt with the girl, then pasted on a bright expression. I couldn’t let it seem like this was bothering me or shaking my confidence. If he took a mistress, that would give me more freedom, a break from his mind games. My expression was warm when I joined them.

“Sorry I made you wait,” I said cheerfully.

Michael gave me a dark look, as if I should have lurked a bit and let him finish … whatever this was. Still, he did glance around to make sure no men were paying me overt attention. It reminded me that I was still one of his possessions, not a person with free will.

He didn’t make introductions. “I’ll call you later,” he said.

The girl giggled and flashed me a pitying glance. It ricocheted off my fuck you force field as she melted away into the crowd.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, surprising me.

“Don’t you need to circulate more?”

Michael shook his head. “I’ve spoken to the key figures in my next deal and you helped me with Joanna Van Houten. I got her number, by the way. You need to call her. Not tomorrow, that’s too soon. The day after, I think.”

I bit my lip to keep from protesting. Do this, do that, I’m not your bitch.

Except I was, and he even had my pedigree papers.

“All right,” I murmured.

He preferred that submissive tone, as if all my own thoughts had melted and drained out my ears.

“Good girl.”

Horror washed over me in a slow, inexorable wave. The next time he said that, I might jump out a window, no matter what floor we were on. How long could I live like this? Sometimes I felt as if my whole body was fissuring and one good quake would break me. When I’d stepped into the funhouse, I didn’t know how bad it would be. I thought I was prepared. I was wrong.

“This way, princess.” His affection weighed on me like asbestos, poisonous and smothering.

Michael steered me through the crowd, down the red carpet, to the valet stand. The young man ran up with Michael’s keys, likely recognizing an impatient asshole when he saw one. In response, he flipped the kid a fifty-dollar bill and laughed when it hit the pavement and almost blew away so the boy had to scramble for it.

The embarrassed valet opened my door, and as Michael got in the Lincoln I whispered, “I’m sorry.” Our eyes met for a second and he gave me a wry half-smile.

I slid into the car. “Where are we going now?”

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s a surprise.”

That did not reassure me.

The ride passed in silence, back into the city proper. It was late enough that traffic didn’t have everything on lockdown, though it was still heavy to me since I’d grown up in an area where four cars constituted a jam-up, and later, in Europe, I’d biked everywhere.

Finally, he parked on a street where we shopped, close to the condo where it was all posh boutiques and precious upscale cafes. Women with tiny purse dogs loved this area, and they always got driven, even if they were only going three blocks.

Since I’d asked once, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of doing it again. I merely stared, waiting for an explanation. None of the shops were even open, if he was planning to buy me something as a reward. It was possible he’d bribed someone to stay later, however, as he loved power plays like that.

“Close your eyes.” That was a command, not a request.

Yet I swallowed an instinctive refusal and a twist of fear. Michael wasn’t Vin; I couldn’t trust him. He might lead me out into the street to die. Hell, that might even be my surprise, now that he’d found a girl to replace me.

Till death do us part, right, you bastard?

Fear-sweat pooled under my arms, beneath my breasts, as I reluctantly obeyed him. I heard the slam of his car door and then he opened mine, pulling me out with a quickness that told me he enjoyed having me helpless. The night air blew up my dress, and I stumbled when he tugged me toward him. His cologne washed over me, sickly sweet, too much almond and vanilla.

Isn’t there a poison that smells like almonds? Fitting.

“This way.”

No endearments, now that we were alone. He claimed this was a fresh start, but in his mind, I wasn’t pure and worthy anymore. Nothing could wash away what Bobby Ray had done in that trailer, not even death.

Impossible to judge how far we walked, but I was terrified the whole time—that he’d shove me or push me in front of a car. I was trembling when we stopped, and he said, “You can look.”

At first I didn’t know what I was seeing; then I read the sign. Durst Gallery. I glanced at Michael, who was smiling with all his teeth but not his eyes.

“What’s this?”

“Your reward. If we’re not having a baby right away, you need to keep busy, and this will be helpful even if you don’t immediately turn a profit.”

I’ll be cleaning your dirty money, I realized.

Galleries were great for that, as the value of art was subjective and driven by how much a collector wanted a piece. I didn’t realize I’d spoken until Michael smiled and patted my head. The contact started gentle and then his fingers pressed into my skull.

“I knew you were a clever girl. You’re not perfect, but you will be useful.”