by Stella Gray
Hopefully some quiet time would give me the space I needed to sort it all out. Usually I loved the distraction of schoolwork and language, but tonight I just wanted to go home, put on my favorite pjs, and eat take-out on the couch.
But in the Uber on the way home, I couldn’t stop replaying that night in my mind. And every time I did, a surge of fear and panic came over me.
By the time I opened the door to the condo, I felt like I’d been holding my breath all day. All I wanted was to relax, give myself a chance to recover and recuperate. But it was a hope that died immediately when I walked into the living room and found Stefan sitting on the couch.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, too surprised at his presence to realize how rude the words sounded until they were out of my mouth. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
He glanced up from his phone and the moleskin notebook lying open on his lap.
“I believe this is still my condo,” he said drily. Then he went back to whatever work he was doing.
Why had I thought I’d be safe at home? And why the hell was he even here? Knowing him, though, he had probably just stopped in for a quick break and a change of clothes. He’d probably head right back out in a few minutes and go meet one of his women on the side, if his behavior at the fundraiser was anything to go by.
I couldn’t believe I was actually hoping that was the case—that my husband was about to go out and cheat on me some more—but after what Gavin had told me today, I was nervous about spending an evening with Stefan. I was actually afraid of him and what he was capable of.
Maybe confronting him was the best course of action. Maybe he’d actually give me some answers. Except he never gave me answers, did he? My husband was a certifiable expert in hiding things, lying by omission, and refusing to engage with me honestly and respectfully.
On top of that, I was all too aware that we were here alone. Stefan was bigger than me, a lot bigger, and it would be all too easy for him to harm me if I said the wrong thing and pissed him off. My mind conjured up images of his green eyes flashing angrily, the low growl of his voice when I made him angry, the way he’d gotten rough with me in the past. Shoving me against walls, ramming his tongue down my throat. His hands fisting in my hair as he groaned into my mouth. The thought of it made my lower belly go hot and tight.
God damn, I’d just gone there. Ridiculous that being stuck at home with my husband could make me this anxious and this turned on at the same time. I didn’t want to think about it. I wouldn’t think about it.
In my room I set down my school bag and armload of books, taking a minute to scroll through the various menus on my take-out app and see if anything looked good. I kept an ear out for the sound of Stefan leaving, expecting to hear it at any moment.
Instead, I heard a knock at my door.
I debated ignoring it, but I wasn’t sure he’d just go away. And it was nice that he’d bothered to knock, considering that there wasn’t a lock on my door—I appreciated that he was at least trying to show some courtesy toward me.
“Yes?” I said, swinging the door open and leaning against the frame.
Stefan stood there, his jacket off, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his top button undone and his tie gone. My pulse shouldn’t have skipped at the sight of him, but it did. He looked incredibly handsome like this. Almost as handsome as he looked when he was completely put together.
“Gretna left us dinner,” Stefan said.
I stared at him. Dinner? Us? We were eating together?
“It’s Indian,” he added. “I just turned on the oven to reheat it.”
Without my permission, my mouth watered. I loved spicy curries, crispy hot samosas, and pillowy mounds of jasmine rice. It was the exact comfort food I’d been thinking of ordering to soothe myself tonight. Even now, I could smell the scent of it wafting into my bedroom.
The last thing I wanted to do was have dinner with my husband tonight, but I was too starving to make up an excuse and stay hidden in my room while he ate without me. So I followed him into the dining room. He had already set out the plates and utensils and when I sat down he went into the kitchen to bring the hot dishes out to the table.
I eyed everything—and Stefan—suspiciously. What was going on? Why wasn’t he at work? And since when did he come home early enough to eat one of Gretna’s meals with me?
He sat down across from me. For a moment, neither of us did anything but eye each other warily.
“Naan?” he asked. I nodded, and Stefan passed me the bread.
As I poured us each a glass of ice water from a crystal carafe, he carefully spooned rice, lentils, aloo gobi, and tikka masala onto my plate before serving himself. It was eerily quiet.
But the heavenly scent of exotic spices gave me a small sense of comfort, and with my first perfect bite of the soft, fragrant rice, I could feel my shoulders start to relax. Gretna usually leaned toward Italian and French cooking, but there was no denying that she was a master at Indian cuisine as well. As Stefan and I ate, however, I could feel the tension stretching out between us, the weight of all the unspoken words we hadn’t said since Saturday.
I thought about what Gavin had told me about Stefan showing up at the club. About how he had been possessive and intense. The accusation that Stefan had put something in my drink, or that he’d ordered his emissary to do it. Suddenly, despite the delicious food, my mouth went dry. I took a long drink of water, trying to soothe my now-tight throat.
Had Stefan drugged me? What would he say if I looked him square in the eyes and asked if he’d been at the club the other night? If he’d stooped so low as to have me roofied in order to control me or punish me?
Glancing up at him, however, reminded me again how much bigger and stronger he was than me. With his shirt sleeves rolled up, I could see the taut muscles of his hands and arms. The bulge of his biceps were visible through his shirt, which stretched tight over his expansive chest.
He could easily dominate me.
The thought made me nervous and excited all over again. I had no self-control.
“How is it?” Stefan asked, gesturing at my plate.
“Good,” I said, looking down to avoid his eyes. What was wrong with me? My husband was possibly a very dangerous man, but my body was reacting to him as if this was a seduction.
I didn’t like thinking about it. Didn’t like thinking about the power he had over me. The spell he had cast.
My appetite suddenly gone, I pushed my lentils around on my plate.
“How’s school going?” he asked. “You get that Chicago landscape report turned in?”
I was so shocked, I almost dropped my fork at the question. It wasn’t just that he was making an attempt to talk to me at all, or even that it was about school—something he knew I’d have no problem babbling on and on about—but that he remembered my big report and cared enough to see how it had gone. Or at least, he was pretending to care.
“I did,” I said. “My group got an A.”
“Hmm,” he said. “You did well. Not that I’m surprised.”
A rush of pride radiated through me, and I felt angry at my body for betraying me yet again. It was infuriating that he could so easily pretend that everything was fine—when he was fully aware of the danger I’d been in on Friday night. And what gave him the right to sit here and ask me about my school work? The last time we’d had any kind of normal conversation was before everything had gone to shit, before I’d realized what Stefan and Konstantin and the whole KZ Modeling enterprise was really up to. Were we going to pretend none of it had happened?
Was this his way of trying to get us back to some semblance of normalcy, or was he just lulling me into a sense of safety and complacency so he could hurt me again? I didn’t trust him.
“Your other classes are going okay?” he asked. “Midterm exams are coming up, right?”
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, staring down at my plate.
“Those late-night study sessions paying off?”
I cleared my throat. Was this a jab at my friendship with Gavin, or the amount of time I spent with my other school friends?
“Yep,” I said, keeping my response short and curt. I continued pushing my uneaten food around my plate, unable to remember the last time I’d been so uncomfortable around someone.
“I’ll bet Professor Dhawan is going to miss having you in class,” he said.
I just nodded this time. My eyes had drifted upward of their own accord, following Stefan’s strong arms to his capable hands and beautiful mouth.
There was something so sexy and magnetic about him that I was even turned on watching him eat, unable to tear my eyes away. He seemed to savor his food with a focused pleasure that reminded me of the intensity he’d brought to the bedroom.
My body still craved his. Wanted him desperately. Wanted him now.
It was sick and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself, the way I responded to his presence.
The room was still full of tension, but it had shifted. It wasn’t just frustration or anger or fear. There was something more potent there. Repressed and highly charged sexual tension. It was so strong, I tightened my grip around my silverware as if I could squeeze it out of me.
Stefan’s eyes followed the gesture, but his expression didn’t change. If he was worried that I might do something with my knife, he didn’t show it, but I doubted he ever worried when it came to me. Not when he was so fully aware of the power that he had over me.
I gave up on trying to eat and pushed my chair away from the table.
Whatever he was doing right now—with the food and the small talk and the feigning interest about my classes—it had to be an act. He wasn’t really interested in hearing about my schoolwork. He wanted something from me. I just didn’t know what.
He looked up at me and our eyes locked. My heart leapt in my chest. Those eyes of his. So green. So intense. I was equally aroused and frightened.
I quickly broke our gaze. “I need to go study.”
“Such a hard worker,” Stefan said. “Always got your nose in a book. Sometimes it’s good to give yourself a night off, though. You know what I mean?”
He smiled.
“Yeah…” I said.
Narrowing my eyes, I picked up my plate. Was he fucking with me? Was this his way of trying to get me to admit something about Friday night, or about Gavin? Or was he trying to figure out if I knew that he’d caught me when I was out at the club—and had dragged me home when I was passed out? I felt like I was losing my mind. Like he was gaslighting me on purpose.
Bringing my dishes to the kitchen sink, I decided that I was done with this farce. If Stefan planned to stay in tonight, so he could corner me into awkward, stilted conversations and scheme against me all the while, then I would have to leave. There was no way I could stand to be in the same house with him anymore. Not like this. I needed space to think. To breathe.
My lingering confusion about Friday night made me too uneasy and nervous to stay home while Stefan was here. Not that my body seemed to care about my concerns. I still wanted him. Wanted to finish unbuttoning his shirt, sliding down to my knees as I tugged down his pants. I missed the feel of his strong, sure hands on my bare skin. The feel of his body against mine.
I tried to push those feelings away.
I’d take myself out tonight. Find my own fun.
Heading into my bedroom, I went immediately for my closet. As I examined potential outfits, I pulled out my phone, intending to text Lila and Audrey and Diane to see if they wanted to go out with me, blow off a little steam.
Then I remembered that they’d all but abandoned me when I’d been drugged and incapacitated, that they’d delighted in the possibility that I’d gone home from the club with a stranger and cheated on my husband. Were they really the kind of people I wanted to spend a Monday night out with? Were they really the kind of people I wanted to spend any time with?
I knew I was blowing things out of proportion in my current state, but at this point, the only person I felt I could really trust was Gavin. I knew that he’d be happy to meet me anytime and anywhere, and would keep an even better eye on me after what I’d been through at 312. What was it he’d said, just this afternoon? That he was there for me. That I’d always have somewhere safe to go with him. I felt better just thinking about his warm brown eyes.
With a decisive tug, I yanked a tight, blush pink dress off a hanger and threw it on the bed. It was a gorgeous Herve Leger bodycon bandage dress that had a sultry vintage lounge singer flair. It hit at the knee, but showed off lots of cleavage and cupped my every curve.
I had to lose my bra and panties and do a ridiculous wiggle-type dance just to get into it, but it was worth it. Tonight, I was going all out. I’d let down my hair, bust out the lipstick, and let myself have fun. There was no way I’d be able to walk into a club dressed like this and not have every eye turn toward me. I’d dance and flirt and forget all about Stefan.
And I’d definitely forget about the impact his sexy stare had had on me.
I brushed out my hair and gave it a shot of hairspray underneath to add volume, slipped on my stilettos, and gave my makeup a quick refresh. Then, standing in front of the closet mirror, I inspected my outfit one last time from head to toe. I wasn’t one to brag, but between the bombshell hair, the second skin of a dress, and my nude lip/smoky eye combo, I looked hot.
With the lack of panties and the length of the skirt, I’d be revealing far too much if I dared even bend over, but it didn’t matter. I had no plans to sit at all. I planned to spend the whole night on the dance floor, forgetting everything that had happened over the last few days. I’d lose myself in the crush of the crowd, in the pounding bass of music, in the adoring gaze of men who would clamor to buy me drinks. But this time, I’d stay sober. I’d stay in control.
I felt great. For the first time since Friday night, I felt like myself again. But better. Like a sexier, stronger version of myself.
I was ready to go out. Ready to have fun.
Grabbing my black Chanel bag and my phone, I headed out of my room, my thumb already scrolling for Gavin’s number. I’d show him that I was someone worth waiting for.
But as my heels click-clacked on the marble tile of the foyer, I heard footsteps behind me.
Spinning around, I found Stefan standing inches away. My heart leapt to my throat as I let out a soft gasp.
His voice low and dangerous, he said, “Where, exactly, do you think you’re going?”
Tori
Chapter 12
Stefan shoved me up against the wall, grabbing my wrist, and my purse hit the floor. With his other hand, he snatched my phone from my grip and tossed it on the entryway table beside him. He looked furious, the tension rolling off him, his green eyes flashing. I tried to pull away but he held fast, his gaze intense and hungry as it roamed my body.
“Let me go,” I said, my heart slamming in my chest.
“I asked you where the hell you think you’re going, dressed like that,” he repeated, tugging my wrist for emphasis.
Goosebumps broke out all along my skin. It had been so long since he had touched me, since I had felt his skin against mine. Despite the underlying threat in his words, I wanted to melt into his touch. Dozens of warring emotions filled me.
“None of your business,” I shot back.
I had to get away. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself around him, not when he was looking at me like that, like he wanted to eat me, not when I couldn’t deny that I wanted him just as bad. I needed to get out of the condo. I needed space. I needed to escape.
But he held on to me, his grip nearly bruising the soft skin of my forearm. I should have hated it, but I didn’t. In fact, the tension that had built up between us throughout dinner threatened to overflow. To overpower me. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Let go,” I ordered, more firmly this time.
He didn’t. My protest died on my lips as he advanced on me, moving closer.
It was pure torture, being this close to Stefan. Having his hands on me.
“I’m going out,” I told him, sounding more sure of myself than I actually felt. “Didn’t you just tell me that I should give myself a night off?”
“A night off from studying,” he said, his voice hard. “Not a night on the town.”
I lifted my chin, feeling rebellious and powerful. Something about the dress I was wearing—how sexy it made me feel—gave me the strength to stand up to him.
“I’m an adult. I’m going out. You can’t stop me,” I said, staring him straight in the eye.
I’d never really stood up to him like this before. The only other time had been when I’d moved into the guest room. It was a decision I still occasionally regretted, especially when I woke in the middle of the night, missing the feel of his body against mine, missing the arms that used to reach for me in the dark, the feel of his weight against me, his cock hard against my thigh or stiffening against the curve of my ass. He was like a fever dream that I couldn’t quite shake.
But now I needed the fever to break. I needed to take a stand.
“I don’t accept that,” he said. “I need to know where you’re going, and with whom.”
My jaw fell open. There was no way I was going to comply with that. “I am leaving now,” I said, pitching my voice low and steely, “and you are going to let go of me.”
I said it like I meant it, even though I really didn’t want him to.