by Ashley Munoz
Curiosity dug into my veins, though, hungry for the miniscule details he hadn’t shared yet.
Then there was the previous night. Gemma had gotten an email from Bryan’s lawyer with a few testimonials about my drug abuse—my nonexistent drug abuse. Apparently, there were videos, which caused Gemma to go into freak-out mode, texting me every five minutes to ensure there wasn’t anything I was keeping from her.
Then out of nowhere Bryan had texted me about Christmas. It was so odd and out of place that I had stared at it for an hour after Jace went home. He’d made sure he talked with Tom about the guy who’d been seen in my building earlier that day before he left. I had wanted him to stay with me but refused to ask him.
The text almost felt like code in some way…but why would he text me as though we weren’t currently going through a divorce? I would have almost wondered if he’d sent it to the wrong number, but I had mentioned the Netherlands. I had picked out this beautiful place to spend a magical Christmas, but that had been almost two years ago. It confused me. I knew he was trying to throw me off my game, which he’d done successfully, because I had no idea what to expect from him.
I had just walked past the dumpster area near the side of my building when a hand grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me into the alley.
My stomach flipped as fear shot through me. I didn’t have time to move before a hard body crushed me against the brick wall and a large hand covered my mouth.
“Did you honestly think you’d get away with it?” Bryan rasped hot, anger into my ear.
I blinked and tried to grasp what was happening. Bryan stood over me, wearing an Armani suit. His imperfect hair covered half his forehead and was wild, as though he’d been running his fingers through it manically. His knee was pressed between my legs, his hand firmly closed over my mouth. I took in air through my nose and tried not to panic.
“Now, I’m going to lower my hand and let you breathe, but I need you to promise you aren’t going to do something stupid like scream,” he muttered calmly, like he was helping me out of some barbed wire and just needed my cooperation in order to get me free. “You promise?” he asked, his blue gaze pinning me to the wall as much as his body.
I nodded my agreement and relished the air once his hand was gone. I wasn’t going to scream, because I was playing the long game with this fucker. I’d known he was going to freak out over my interview, but the leaked photos were probably what had sent him over the edge. As if I had any control over those.
“I want to talk over dinner tonight. There seems to be a lot of misconceptions about what actually happened in our home, and I think we owe it to one another to clear things up.” He brushed his hands down the length of my arm. I resisted the urge to pull it away and shove him out of my space.
“I agree that we do need to talk, but I’m only interested in talking to you with my lawyer present,” I replied boldly, trying to keep my head held high. He was a dragon, maw open, ready to devour me—except he wouldn’t end me quickly. No, he’d lock me away, keep me there to do his bidding, punching and hurting me when he needed a release.
He slapped the brick above my head and let out a sound of frustration. “Dammit, Faith, this isn’t a joke. I need to talk to you without an audience. Do you think you’ll get anything from me? You think you’ll get a dime? Tennessee isn’t a community property state, which means you get shit, because you came into this marriage with shit.” He fumed, moving his face closer to mine.
My heart raced, desperate for safety and a place to hide. I didn’t give anything away, just kept my chin held high and my gaze locked on his.
“If you think I’m going to let you ruin me, let you fuck some country boy while you carry my last name and give you half of what I own, you’re fucking delusional.” He searched my face, and shit, I must have looked surprised when he mentioned Jace, because he smiled and leaned in closer. “Didn’t think I knew about your small-town boyfriend?” He laughed and ran his fingers through my hair, toying with the ends. “I know everything about your little lover. I know he’s in over his head with his auto shop, and I know the tuition fees he owes for his sister are overdue. I know he’ll be bankrupt in a few years if he doesn’t get some steady revenue, which will force him to sell his house.”
He leaned in, pressed his lips just under mine, and smiled again.
“You can make me forget him, Faith. Make me take his name off this ugly little list that’s in my head. Because if you don’t, who knows what kind of calamity could befall that sweet little family.”
He straightened, causing me to lurch forward.
“Dinner tonight, six o’clock. I’ll be out front waiting.”
“What the hell am I going to do?” I groaned into my arms, which were folded on top of Gemma’s desk.
“For starters, you’re going to move your ass. You’re messing up all my case files.” Gemma poked at my arm with her chopstick, and I slumped into my chair, leaning away from her desk.
“If I don’t go with him, he’s going to ruin Jace—and Jessie, for that matter. He threatened their entire family.” I leaned against my fist, laying my concerns out there for my best friend to fix. She gazed at her box of chow mein, ignoring me. I liked to think she was just contemplating a solution, but I knew her too well—she was trying to calculate calories. “Gemma, now is not the time to worry about your ass!” I slammed my hand down on her desk.
“Bitch, you know how I feel about my ass—how dare you!” She leaned forward to snag her phone to input the calorie intake.
Once she was done, she finally met my crazed glare and cleared her throat. She stared at me with her hands steepled like a badass lawyer and then smiled at me. Her lipstick was still flawlessly in place on her lips, a deep purple, making her white teeth look even more glorious.
“Oh my god, stop with the evil smile.” I huffed an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes.
“Don’t you dare steal my evil smile from me. You know how much I live for knowing more than other people.” She laughed, lowering her hands and adjusting her back into her ergonomically correct chair.
My chair was a piece of shit, zero lumbar support whatsoever—kind of like how my best friend was currently acting.
“Like it’s hard to know more than me, Gem.” I rolled my eyes again. I was smart in my own way, but I wasn’t lawyer smart.
“Look, he’s panicked, which is good.” She checked her phone, disengaging from my panic.
“Okay.” I held up my palm for her to continue.
“Okay—nothing. He’s panicked. It’s good.” She said each word slowly so I’d understand.
“For fuck’s sake, Gem—tell me why that’s good.”
She let out another evil laugh, and my eyes twitched with how badly I wanted to reach across the desk and tackle her. “Okay, sorry. It’s just so much fun. Look, you embarrassed him by talking about your divorce publicly, and then with the photos being leaked, it’ll compromise business deals, stockholders, shares—I mean the list goes on and on. He wants to strong-arm you into admitting you’re on heavy drugs, you need rehab, and the photos were fake. He wants the world to think you’re still madly in love with him.” She leaned forward to snag a piece of paper. “But!” She put up a finger. “We have leverage.” She flipped a few pages over and slid them my way.
I read over the proposal she’d already written up for if and when Bryan fought us on the divorce.
“Shit,” I whispered as I read over her ideas. She was purely diabolical.
“There’s more where that came from, baby.” She winked. “So, you can go to dinner tonight, show up, and slam this down in front of him, get him to back off. Or you can wait him out, stand him up, and see what happens. It’s up to you.” Gemma checked her nails like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Her confidence put out all the fires burning in my chest.
“Okay, so this is the plan?” I shuffled the papers so they were in order.
“This is the plan.” She n
odded and I sat back, brought my fingers up to a steeple, and returned her smile.
I tried to call Jace, but his phone went to voicemail. My meeting with Gemma had taken up more of the day than I’d realized, so I was running on nearly no time to get my game plan together. My nerves were raw, my brain in overdrive as I wrestled with the fight-or-flight instincts that were firing off like little flare guns in my head.
They were telling me to stay safe, stay the hell away from Bryan, and not go to dinner with him. It was like dining with the devil himself, my poor soul begging me to see the light and repent.
But I had to do this. I couldn’t risk Bryan messing with Jace’s job, his new home, or Jessie’s school. I wouldn’t allow it.
So, as I fumbled with my sling-back heels and black dress, I voice-texted Jace.
Me: Rain check on tonight?
He responded fairly fast.
Jace: What’s up?
I hesitated, wanting to tell him, but not with a text where he could misconstrue the situation.
Me: Nothing, just have to meet about some legal stuff. I’ll call you later tonight
Jace: I could come with you. I don’t mind hanging out while you go over stuff
The text nearly made my heart explode. The idea of having Jace next to me made me feel immediately at ease, but the words Bryan had uttered earlier about their life and business came rushing back.
Me: It’s okay. It’s something I need to do alone.
I added a heart emoji to hopefully get the message across that it wasn’t what he thought, that I wanted him there, but I also wanted to protect him and Jessie. Bryan was a devious monster, cunning and quick on the draw. His money made him a very serious threat, one I wouldn’t take lightly where Jace or his sister were concerned.
Seeing that Jace hadn’t started typing anything new through the text thread, I exited the app and called Tom. He was ready for me downstairs, under orders to take me to meet Bryan. At least I didn’t have to ride there with my husband. At least I had a few minutes of reprieve before I had to see him again.
The drive to the restaurant in Collierville was quick. It still made my skin crawl that Bryan was in the city I lived in, but at the same time, I didn’t want to travel anywhere he could get me alone or away from my new life.
The low lighting of the restaurant took a second to adjust to as I walked forward, back rigid, stomach tense. I moved around a few sequestered tables with nicely dressed couples seated at each one. The music was quiet in the background, and the piano serenade seemed so poetic as I walked toward my abuser. At the back of the room was a small table hidden by tall plants and statues, perfect for a private conversation. Fuck.
I held my chin up, putting on the front that this didn’t affect me in any way.
Once the server assisted me with scooting in my chair, took my drink order, and left, Bryan showed his colors.
“I said six.” He scanned the menu.
I didn’t touch mine. I knew he’d order for me anyway, as he’d done since we got married. It had started when I didn’t know what to order at the five-star restaurants he’d take us to. I was thankful for it, but he never tried to educate me, never offered to help. I knew he liked the control.
I sipped the water in front of me and channeled my inner Gemma, trying to pull that evil smile out of my arsenal. It was in there somewhere; I’d practiced it enough before this meeting. I cleared my throat. “I had things to do.”
It was 6:15—the idiot was honestly whining about fifteen minutes? Gemma had said it’d put him off his game. It’d be throwing a juicy piece of meat in front of that monster living inside him.
He slowly set his menu down, and our server came over like a little lap dog. Bryan ordered the braised lamb for both of us, which seemed fitting as I currently felt like I was being led to the slaughter.
Once the server flitted away, taking our heavy leather menus with him, Bryan landed his clouded gaze on me. His eyes were irritated, slightly red, like he’d been drinking. He was a high-functioning drunk, but there was a limit to his façade of sobriety.
“Are you ready to talk about this bullshit divorce?” he asked, sipping his scotch. I eyed the movement, darkness tugging at the edges of my memories, threatening to take me back to those nights. The smell of liquor on his tongue as he forced angry kisses on me…the horrible burn as he tossed his glass of amber anger in my eyes…the feel of his fingers against my neck as he forced me to the ground… I blinked and pushed back the bile that threatened to surface.
“I told you—I am more than happy to discuss it with our lawyers. What is it exactly that you had to discuss with me in private?” I leaned back, desperate to get as much space from him as possible.
“This is fucking bullshit, Faith.” He raged, spit flying from his lips, but no one would see.
We were hidden. He could hurt me, and no one would know.
“Here’s what you’re going to do.” He leaned forward, his metallic red tie gleaming under the lights. The lighting was getting more pronounced in the room as daylight waned outside. “You’re going to admit you’re an addict. You’re going to admit you’re checking yourself into rehab, and we’re going to have a very public makeup. Hugs, kisses—we’re going to act like the fucking couple we are.” He jabbed his pointer finger into the table, driving each point home. Desperation was leaking through every single pore in his face. He had bags under his eyes, the blue color of them was less vibrant, and his hair looked greasy.
He was off his game, probably drinking more than normal, which meant he was easier to mess with. I smiled at him, watching him from under my lashes, like I was about to flirt.
Instead, I reached into my purse and pulled out the paper I’d gotten from Gemma earlier. I slid it in front of him and leaned back.
“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sign the divorce papers. You’re going to leave Jace and his family alone and never look into them again. You’re not going to fight me on the divorce or drag it out. We’ll handle it quietly, quickly, and be done,” I said, my tone light and easy, like he wasn’t scaring the shit out of me.
His angry gaze left the paper and landed on me. Hurt, fear—it all swirled in those irises I had once loved, but like most of our marriage, anger overshadowed those other emotions. It was always more potent.
“You’re going to go to the cops and press charges against me?” He said it like I’d been the one beating him.
I leveled him with a serious glare. “Yes. Those are my terms. As you can see, they already have the report from when I went to the hospital. I merely have to let them know I want to press charges.” Gaining steam and feeling powerful, I leaned forward and pressed my finger into the table. “Then I’m going to war with your investors. I’ll be on every talk show from fucking New York to California as the spokeswoman for female empowerment. You’ll lose millions. Think of how many people won’t do business with you once they learn you’re an abusive dick.”
I leaned back again just as our meals arrived.
I retrieved the paper from in front of him. He seemed to be thinking over my words, or he was just in shock. Either way, it made me feel powerful.
When the server left, I stood and looked down at my husband. “I think we’re done here. I look forward to seeing your signature on those documents as soon as they’re delivered to you.” I went to turn away, but he grabbed my wrist.
His fingers dug in deep, and pain shot up my arm as he tugged me back toward him. I landed in his lap, and he didn’t waste any time. He tipped me back and kissed me—hard.
I pushed against him, and tears sprang to life in my desperate eyes once he finally let me up. I went to slap him across the face, but just before I did it, I realized there were two people standing along the wall of the restaurant with cameras aimed at us.
“Go ahead, hit me. I’ve already paid them to edit it to make it seem as though you lost it.” He smiled wide. “You forget, sweetheart—this country was built on hush money,
ugly truths, and dirty secrets. I own more people than you think. Take your story to the cops…see what happens.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear and leaned in to kiss my swollen lips. Tears trailed down my face as fear settled into my chest.
Bryan had just earned a TKO. I was lying flat on the metaphorical mat with nothing left.
Twenty-Seven
“Jace, please open up,” I pathetically pleaded with the paper-thin door on his fifth wheel. I’d knocked at least ten times and was positive his sister or father was going to overhear from the mobile home any second and come to check on who was making the noise.
It was past eleven at night. After the dinner with Bryan, I’d driven all the way to my favorite lookout point and parked. I had crawled onto the hood of my car and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, on its way to start a new morning in a different part of the world. I sat and watched the stars as they came out one by one. It wasn’t until I began to shiver uncontrollably that I realized I needed to head back, but the idea of going home wasn’t something I could stomach.
Bryan knew where I lived, and was probably watching me. What I’d felt was a new start for me now felt like an hourglass. I was on display for him to watch as the sand poured down on top of me, smothering me and leaving me free of choices.
So, I had driven to the only place I’d feel safe. It alarmed me that it was Jace I’d thought of, that it was Jace who, deep down in my bones, was the person I knew would keep me protected against whatever scheme Bryan had cooked up.
Finally, on my eleventh sturdy knock, the door was flung open. Jace stood there in his boxer briefs, a scowl on his handsome face and a death grip on the door.
“What the fuck do you want, Faith?” he growled, his gruff tone chipping at me. Angry Jace was back. I knew I’d bailed on dinner, but that didn’t explain why he was being so mean.
“Can I come in?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper, terrified he’d shut me out.
Jace looked over his shoulder for a second before letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m not exactly alone.”