Torment

by Dahlia Kent

  On Friday, I had just finished hemming the dress and preparing to leave for the day when my phone rang. I went to it, expecting it was Robert calling to remind me about the party tonight. I didn’t recognize the number but I answered the call.

  “Did you receive my gifts?”

  Even through the phone, Nicholas’ voice whipped my heart into racing. His voice glided along my skin, and I hated the way a shiver of excitement went through me.

  I scowled, my grip tightening around the phone.

  “I did and I threw them in the trash.”

  He chuckled. “I expected as much.”

  “If you suspected I would throw away your gifts, why are you sending them?”

  “They serve a purpose.”

  “To annoy me? Because that’s working.”

  “To keep me in your mind.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Did that work?”

  Yes.

  “No. I barely remembered you existed, Mr. Vidal.”

  “I would prefer it if you call me Nick, Grace.”

  “I would prefer it if you leave me alone, Mr. Vidal.”

  He was silent for a moment and I knew I should hang up, yet I held the phone pressed to my ear, waiting for his response.

  “You’re so stubborn,” he said softly. “It’s annoying, but that’s what I like about you the most.” He paused. “I want you to have dinner with me tonight.”

  “My answer is still the same—no.”

  “Hm. Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t asking you a question.”

  A soft beep followed, then silence.

  Sixteen

  —

  Nicholas’ call and his insinuated dark promise I would have dinner with him whether I wanted to or not brought back my anxiety.

  Determined to thwart him if he made any attempts to kidnap me, I left at the same time as Sophia and headed home early.

  Robert was at home getting prepared for the party guests’ arrival in the next few hours. For the first time in our marriage, he was the one who’d organized everything, from the caterers to the decorations.

  He still hadn’t told me why he was throwing this party but I suspected it had something to do with the money he still owed his company.

  What was he planning to do? Invite his employers over and woo them with wine and shrimp rolls? Convince them to look the other way from the gaping one hundred and seventy grand hole he’d left in their bank account?

  By the time the guests started to arrive, I’d showered and dressed to play the part of the happy, devoted wife. It was only Robert’s friends and co-workers in attendance, and it was a disturbing reminder of how few allies I had in my life.

  Maybe I should have invited Sophia. Then I wouldn’t have to force my lips wide as I pretended to be interested in their conversations about their trips to Europe, and their concern about the rising crime in the city.

  I wanted to drop the smile and tell them the truth. That it didn’t matter where you went or where you lived.

  Safety was a lie.

  If the bad wanted to get you, it would.

  And often times it would use the people closest to you as a means to take you down.

  When there was a lull in the conversation, I excused myself to my bathroom for a breather. I didn’t want to be at the party anymore. I wanted all these people in my home gone so I could have some peace and quiet.

  I left and went in search of Robert to tell him that, but I didn’t see him among the guests milling about. Actually, I hadn’t seen him in a while.

  Did he leave his own damn party for me to entertain his guests alone?

  He wasn’t in our bedroom, so I made my way to his office. He made sure to put a little ribbon suspended from two posts with a note that said NO ENTRY, but I circumvented it and turned the door handle.

  It was locked.

  Muted voices on the other side of the door came to an abrupt stop.

  Frowning, I knocked on the door.

  “Robert?”

  I waited. When nobody opened the door, I knocked again, harder.

  Finally, I heard the click of the lock being disengaged. Robert opened the door just enough for me to see his face. He gave me a smile that looked false and stretched like mine felt as I spoke with his party guests.

  “Grace, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  I scowled. “Hiding from your guests?”

  He hesitated. “There’s some last minute work I forgot I had to do. I’ll be out in a moment. Would you mind keeping an eye on things?”

  “Yes, I mind.” I lowered my voice so only he could hear me. I wasn’t in the best mood, but I still wanted to be polite to the guests. “Robert, it’s time the party ended. I’m tired.”

  “Just hold on a little longer, Grace. We’re—I’m almost done.”

  I stared at him and at my silence he tried to shut the door. I slapped my hand on it and shoved it open wider. He swore and tried to push me back, but I squirmed past him to see what he was hiding.

  Three men sat around a small table. Playing cards and poker chips covered the table’s surface. The men all stared at me in silence as I regarded them in mounting outrage.

  Funnily enough, they looked guilty. As if they knew what they were doing was wrong and they were ashamed they’d been caught. Perhaps they were afraid I’d tell their oblivious wives.

  I couldn’t believe it. In his infinite stupidity, Robert had decided to gamble in our home. And after he’d promised me he would stop gambling too. How could he afford to gamble money we didn’t have? How could he be so selfish to sink us lower into the pit?

  How could he tell me I should forgive him yet blatantly violate my trust all over again?

  Fury coursed through me. I vibrated with rage that was mostly directed at myself. I should have known. I should have fucking known it was a lie.

  Don’t believe them when they say the things you want to hear.

  I’d been through this song and dance several times with my mother. Whenever the threat of losing me to Child Protective Services loomed, she’d talk a good talk about ‘getting clean’ and ‘doing better’. But her resolve would last for as long as a mayfly’s life span before she was back to her old, dirty ways.

  I faced Robert again but the anger stole my voice and all I could do was glare at him.

  “Grace, wait. I can explain,” Robert began but I couldn’t stand to hear his voice or look at him. I wanted him gone. I wanted him out! I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs for him to pack his shit and don’t let the fucking door hit him on the ass on his way out of my life.

  But I hated making a spectacle of myself. I refused to do it with his guests already looking on. So I spun and strode into our bedroom. He followed after me, pleading for me to listen.

  “It’s for us this time. I’m doing it for us!”

  I grabbed my car keys and my phone from my dresser, stuffed them in a small clutch, and shoved past him out of the bedroom. Several pairs of eyes followed my swift stride to the apartment front door with Robert calling after me.

  “Grace—”

  The apartment door slammed shut, cutting him off.

  The elevator doors slid shut and I realized I was crying. I took deep breaths and forced myself to calm down. Wiping away the tears with the back of my hand, I chided myself for being stupid enough to cry over a man who didn’t deserve it.

  One who doesn’t deserve you, as Nicholas had said.

  The thought of Nicholas reminded me of the last time we spoke. Renewed dread went through me but I consoled myself. Even if it was safer for me to remain at the party in case Nicholas tried anything, there was no way in hell I could have stuck around at home with the anger I felt.

  There was no use for paranoia. I would be fine. I’d be in my car while I cleared my mind. There was no way he or his goons would be able to grab me from a moving vehicle.

  The elevator’s downward glide continued uninterrupted until the ground floor. It cruised to a stop and pinged as the doors
slid open.

  “It’s going down,” I said on autopilot to the man in the suit stepping forward. I was about to tell him to wait for the other elevator but then I recognized his blond hair and the smirk on his lips.

  A jolt hit me in the chest. My limbs grew stiff as dread and dismay tightened my stomach.

  Andrew pressed his forearm against the edge of the elevator doors, blocking my escape with his broad frame.

  “How about we go for another drive instead, Mrs. Kennedy?”

  Seventeen

  —

  “I don’t want to go for a drive with you.”

  I glared at him but his smirk never wavered.

  “I can tell. But it’s not up to you or me.”

  “Because it’s up to the boss?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s a sad existence if you can’t make decisions for yourself.”

  He said nothing in response. Instead he moved to the side, indicating I go ahead of him. The elevator started to beep from being held open too long.

  Scowling, I contemplated staying put, but I stepped out.

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned in a low voice, which I suspected meant, don’t run or you’ll regret it. And as much as an indignant voice insisted I put up a fight against this second kidnapping—because that was what it was, even if I walked uninhibited—I resigned myself to the inevitable.

  How bad could it be? Tonight didn’t have to be anything more than dinner, even if I knew more was what Nicholas wanted.

  He hadn’t hid his intentions. He wanted to fuck me again. He was using the dinner as a means to an end. That didn’t mean I had to give in, even if a traitorous part of me wanted to.

  Andrew led me outside to a sleek black SUV parked across the street. He unlocked it then opened one of the rear doors and indicated I get in.

  “Not going to blindfold me first?”

  He remained silent, patiently waiting with the door held open. I climbed into the car. The door lock instantly engaged when he shut the door, and there were no visible knobs for me to pull to unlock it.

  Bastards planned for everything.

  A dark partition separated the driver’s seat from the backseat. Andrew’s large frame was a shadowy figure as he climbed into the car and started it.

  My phone rang. I took it out of my clutch and saw Robert’s name on the screen. I immediately rejected the call then shut off the phone entirely so I didn’t have to endure him pestering me.

  The clutch weighed on my lap as we drove and I idly played with the clasp. I still had my phone. I could call for help. Call the cops, maybe. Yet I settled back into my seat and stared out through the tinted windows at the passing scenery.

  In time, we slowed to a stop in front of a restaurant. Valentino read the sign in reddish-gold script above the entrance. Andrew helped me out of the car and guided me inside.

  The main floor blazed with warm, amber light. Customers occupied the wooden tables, their eyes sparkling with enjoyment. Jazzy music, the clink of dinnerware, chatter, and occasional loud laughter filled the room.

  The delicious scent of cooked meat, roasted vegetables and spices followed our ascension up a flight of stairs to the second floor. A tall man with gelled, grey hair, and wearing a crisp, white shirt tucked neatly into black pants approached us.

  “Welcome to Valentino. I am Alessio, your server for this evening.” He smiled. Then he indicated a pair of glass doors that led out onto a patio. “Mr. Vidal is expecting you this way.”

  “Go with him,” Andrew said, hanging back.

  I followed Alessio to the glass doors and out onto the patio. Several tables covered with white table cloths occupied the area. Short, semi-transparent red jars sat in the center of each table, a lit candle flickering golden light inside them. All of the tables were unoccupied except one.

  Nicholas stood at our approach. He was an impressive figure in a black suit over a white shirt. Maybe he had an aversion to ties because, as usual, he wore none. It didn’t detract from his appeal. Like all the other times before, the sight of him sent my body into chaos. Racing heart, shivery limbs, flutters in my stomach, and a traitorous heat and need between my legs.

  His slow and appreciative gaze roved over me from head to toe. Then he smiled. Of course he would like what he saw. I wore a black, long-sleeved cocktail dress I’d made myself. While the hem of the flared skirt hung just past my knees, the neckline was steep and generous.

  “Alessio, we’ll have the 1990 Cannubi Boschis for tonight.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Vidal.” Nodding once, Alessia left us alone.

  Nicholas moved to pull out a seat for me. I thanked him quietly as I took a seat.

  “You look beautiful, Grace.” He sat down across from me. “Did you dress up for me?”

  “No, my husband and I were hosting a party until your goon showed up and kidnapped me. Again.”

  He chuckled. “My goon? Andrew would be amused if you called him that to his face.”

  “I’m so happy I’m a source of humour for the both of you.”

  “He called me on the way over. He said he found you in the elevator, and that you looked like you had been crying.” His gaze was sharp on me. “Why were you crying?”

  “Andrew saw wrong. I wasn’t crying.”

  “Did something happen at the party?”

  I pursed my lips. “None of your business.”

  Alessio returned armed with a tray. After presenting the bottle of wine to Nicholas, he poured it into our glasses. He handed us the dinner menus and left us alone again.

  My fingers clenched around the wineglass’ stem, I stared into the dark red liquid. I felt Nicholas’ gaze on me and I fidgeted, unwilling to meet his gaze. I had this sense he saw past the front I presented. He saw the real me. The scared, lonely creature with a confidence worth less than a sip of this nearly 30-year-old bottle of wine.

  And I didn’t like it.

  He’d already seen me naked in flesh.

  Why did he have to see me naked in character too?

  But I dug deep for some false courage and raised my eyes to his.

  “What is your goal here, Mr. Vidal?”

  “To have dinner with you.”

  “But that’s not what you really want.”

  “What do I want?”

  “You made it clear the last time you visited my shop.” I took a sip of the wine, hoping the alcohol would soothe my nerves. Then I gestured at our surroundings on the quiet patio. “So why waste time with all of this? Since you so easily took me from my home, you could have taken me to your house and forced me to have sex with you. Then it would all be over.”

  He smiled and leaned forward. “I could do that. But I prefer you willing and begging me to fuck you.” He lowered his voice, his eyes filled with desire. “Sitting here looking at you, all I want to do is bend you over this table and make you take my cock so deep, the entire street will hear you scream.”

  Heat rose in my cheeks and my grip squeezed around my wineglass stem. With shameful ease, I imagined him doing what he wanted. His fingers digging into my hips, the skirt of my cocktail dress riding up on my back, his cock thrusting into me so hard the table shook beneath us.

  I squeezed my thighs together to stop the pulse of need there and drank a healthy sip of my wine.

  His smile deepened. “Is that what you want?”

  “No,” I said in a flat voice, lacking conviction.

  “You’re a terrible liar.” He drank some of his wine and leaned back in his seat. “Did you leave the party because Robert hurt you?”

  Shaken by the abruptness of the question and its implication he was concerned about me, I glared at him.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t like when someone harms what’s mine.”

  “I’m not yours. I’m not something to own or possess.”

  “You’re mine, not as a thing I own, but as a kindred spirit.”

  “What does that even mean?”


  “It means you’re just like me.”

  “I’m nothing like you.” I frowned. “I don’t take advantage of others for my own gain.”

  He took another sip of wine.

  “You’re just like me in that we will both do whatever it takes for self-preservation.”

  I breathed slow, quelling the nervous energy inside me. I didn’t like the way this conversation was headed. It skirted the edge of truths that should stay in the dark forever.

  Did he know?

  That was impossible.

  Nobody did except me.

  I shifted in my seat. “That’s human nature. That doesn’t mean we’re the same.”

  “Everyone who meets me for the first time is easily fooled by my nice suit and friendly smile,” he continued, that mysterious knowing gleam in his eye. “They always mistake me as their friend when they’re in need. They never suspect until it’s too late that my goal is to bleed every cent from their pockets. I’m not in this business to make friends, I’m in it to make money. But that day we first saw each other, you instantly saw past my pretense.”

  “I grew up around bad men, so I’m pretty good at recognizing one.”

  “Or you’re good at recognizing it because as much as you pretend otherwise, you’re bad too.”

  Eighteen

  —

  He hit a nerve and it made me uncomfortable.

  I got to my feet, unwilling to endure his accurate assessment.

  “I want to go home.”

  He stared at me in silence. I expected him to fight me on it. Instead, he nodded and stood. I turned around and marched toward the door leading onto the patio. It swung open before I got to it and Alessio stepped out.

  “Alessio, we are leaving. I’ll pay when I return.”

  Alessio nodded and stepped aside to let us pass. I took out my phone from my clutch and turned it on as I headed down the stairs. Nicholas’ presence behind me made me anxious and I couldn’t wait to be free from it.

  I hurried past the other customers having a pleasant time and out the restaurant’s front door. Cool night air caressed my naked arms and relieved the tension in my body.