Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection

by Dakota Willink

  “And you said not until you were married,” Natalia mused, her eyes narrowing as she recalled the distant memories. “He brought you a gift that night. A scarf or something, right?”

  “Maybe. I don’t really remember because he was always buying me something. If it wasn’t a daisy, it was a trinket of some kind. Gifts had always been important to him, although they would rarely be things I actually wanted or needed—they'd be something expensive he'd want me to wear. It was almost like he wanted to mold me into this idea he had in his head about what a girlfriend should look like. It bothered me, but I told myself I should be more appreciative of his sweet gestures.”

  “If you saw all those red flags, why did you say yes when he proposed?”

  “I don’t know. I think I was in love with the idea of what could be, I guess. Or maybe I was just tired of being alone. I don’t know…” I trailed off as I recalled the memories that seemed to take place a lifetime ago. “After we got married and moved into our house, I immersed myself in his life. He took care of everything and I let him. He provided for me in ways I’d only imagined to be possible. He saw to that. In hindsight, every step in our relationship was made to draw me in, creating a world I’d never want to leave.”

  “But now you want to leave?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s not that simple, Nat. Ethan clearly needs help—our marriage needs help. I have to think this through. Leaving him was never even on my radar until a few hours ago. I have to be realistic. I have no money, no job, and no education. As it stands right now, I don’t even have access to money. I’m not on any of the bank accounts. He just gives me a monthly allowance to pay for groceries and other household expenses.”

  Natalia’s eyes widened in surprise. I knew why she was shocked. I was always fiscally responsible, even when I was up to my ears in credit card debt. I was never frivolous and always had money saved just in case of an emergency. The fact I didn’t have a cent to my name shocked even me.

  “Jesus Christ, Gia. He gives you an allowance?”

  Dr. Murray came back into the room and interrupted any defense I may have had.

  “Okay, Gianna. You are free to go. I’ve written you a script for a mild pain reliever. That should help you get through the cramping while your body goes through this process.”

  She handed me a stack of discharge papers and the script. I glanced down at them and noticed a few colorful brochures sticking out from in between the pages. Curious, I reached up and slid them out. The first was for a support group for women who’ve experienced a miscarriage. Another was for a new form of birth control. When I saw the third brochure, it caused me to stagger under the cumulative weight of the past few hours.

  It was for a battered women’s shelter in the city.

  I glanced back up at the doctor. She was smiling at me with kind and sympathetic eyes. I knew what she was thinking. She thought I was one of those women.

  Was I?

  If I stayed with Ethan, I would be. The right choice would be to leave. I knew this with every bone in my body. Actually verbalizing all the warning signs Ethan displayed over the years should have said enough, but I couldn’t leave him. Not yet—and it had nothing to do with money.

  The fairytale life held me back.

  Despite the emotional and physical pain, I still believed I could have that with Ethan. It’s what he had promised me after all, and I didn’t think we were beyond repair. However, today had been a wakeup call. At the very least, until I could figure out the next chapter, I needed to take precautions to make sure a child didn’t complicate my situation further.

  Blinking back more threatening tears, I hastily shoved the brochures back down between the papers. Before the doctor left, I called out to her.

  “Dr. Murray? Would it be possible to get another prescription?”

  “For what?”

  “I need birth control.”

  5

  One Year Later

  Men and women were so profoundly different from each other. The old adage that men are from Mars and women are from Venus was true. Men were tough, resilient, and smart. They were the providers, responsible for working to pay the bills and fixing the plumbing. Whereas women were soft and delicate, and should manage the household, raise the kids, cook, and do the cleaning. But most importantly, it was her duty to please her husband.

  That’s what Ethan believed and he found a way to make me believe it too—at least for a time he did. I had lost myself for a while but I knew better than to believe that load of nonsense now. Even though the wool Ethan had pulled over my eyes was long gone, I was smart enough to know I needed to survive. It’s what I’d been doing for just over a year. I didn’t live each day. I survived each day.

  Ethan would be home from work in an hour. The latest from John Legend played quietly from the stereo mounted under a kitchen wall cabinet. That and the butcher knife slicing along the wooden cutting board were the only sounds that could be heard in the sprawling ranch. As I tossed pieces of carrots and celery into the pot of soup I’d started for dinner, I basked in the last bit of quiet solitude I may have for the day.

  I didn’t know what his temperament would be like when he got home. If he came home in a foul mood, he’d probably leave shortly after returning so he could go fuck Cynthia. I stopped caring about that long ago because his leaving to go to her usually meant my ribs got a break from his vile temper. If he came home in a good mood, that was almost worse because there was the high probability that he’d want to fuck me instead. Just the thought of it caused acid to rise in the base of my throat.

  Ethan had always been a determined person. He always got what he wanted. It didn’t matter what it was. He wanted me. I had given myself willingly. He wanted to be the chief of police. He schmoozed his way into the position. He wanted the house. He found a way to afford it, even though the means to pay the astronomical mortgage was still an unsolved mystery to me. He wanted a mistress. I stopped arguing with him about her.

  But now… now he wanted a baby.

  The bastard even kept track of my cycle so he knew exactly when to stick it to me. Having a child had been his focus ever since he found out I had a miscarriage. But his controlling nature didn’t end there. Ethan also had a tap on the phone lines—an actual tap, like the kind only seen in movies and cop shows on primetime. For years, he had listened to every single phone conversation I ever had. He slipped and told me about the tap during a fit of rage, fury that was sparked after he heard me tell Nat that I wanted to leave him.

  My fractured wrist took months to heal after that.

  Since then, I’d been cautious and never said too much over the phone. If I wanted girl talk, Natalia and I met for lunch at a restaurant Ethan approved of. We used code words to hide the true meaning of things in the off chance someone was listening. I knew these things weren’t supposed to happen in real life, but they were happening in mine. I had no privacy. No time I could call my own. His spying made me feel violated in ways I couldn’t even describe. There were days when I felt like even my thoughts didn’t belong to me.

  By some miracle, I’d managed to hide the fact I was taking birth control. I never told him about the pills prescribed to me by the doctor one year prior—the ones I kept safely hidden under a floorboard I’d pried loose on my side of the bed. I had no intention of having a child with him. Whatever delusions I had about fixing our broken marriage had long died. I loathed Ethan with every fiber of my being.

  My true feelings were another thing I managed to keep hidden. I could have been an Academy Award winner for my performances. I played the part of the perfect wife from sunup until sundown. It meant I didn’t have to feel the sting of his belt or the blunt force of his boot—but it also meant he wouldn’t suspect when I planned to leave him. I just needed a little more time to get the cash I needed to escape. Using the increasing cost of groceries as an excuse to get more money, I’d been slowly stashing away portions of my so-called allowance. It was t
he only way I could do it. Buying fresh from local produce stands and small, family owned bakeries meant there were often no receipts for the purchases. Ethan never even questioned it.

  I heard the familiar click of the deadbolt on the front door. I silenced the radio and glanced at the clock.

  Shit. He was home early.

  That wasn’t a good sign. Home early equated to a good day at work. That meant only one thing for me. As if they had a mind of their own, my thighs squeezed together, my body instinctively wanting to protect the part of me I didn’t want to give.

  Shoving the worry aside, I quickly looked around the kitchen for anything that might be out of place. There was a dish towel balled up on the counter. I quickly shoved it in a drawer so Ethan wouldn’t be upset that I hadn’t hung it back up after use. I glanced at the daisies, the flowers I’d come to loathe, in the vase on center of the island. They would need freshwater tomorrow but were okay for now. Any cloudiness to the water would upset Ethan because he thought it meant I wasn’t grateful for his gift. On the other side of the kitchen, the bread box was open. I cursed myself for forgetting to close it after I made myself lunch earlier that afternoon. I crossed the kitchen in three long strides and slid the door closed just as he entered.

  “You’re home early,” I said as casually as I could, despite the fact my heart was racing. “Did you catch all the bad guys?”

  “Yeah, actually. We raided a meth house today. There are eight less scumbags on the street now.” He bypassed me and went straight for the safe hidden behind a large picture in the living room. After he spun the dial, he deposited his department issued gun and a large duffle bag inside, then locked it again. I frowned, curious about what was in the bag. I’d seen him come home with it on a few other occasions as well. Whatever the contents were, he always kept them locked tight in the safe I didn’t know the combination to.

  “Fewer drug dealers is always a good thing,” I said lightly, still trying to gauge his mood.

  “It is.” He stepped up to me and placed a light kiss to my forehead. Pulling out skills even Meryl Streep would be jealous of, I leaned in and accepted his embrace. “Dinner smells good, Gia. I’m just going to wash up. I’ll be back out in a few.”

  He pulled away, gave a little tap to my ass, then disappeared into the bedroom. When I heard the shower turn on in the master bath, I inwardly groaned in misery. Sex was almost guaranteed to be on the menu tonight. I was nothing more than an object to him. He took everything while I got nothing. I had faked more orgasms than I could count over the past year—not that I cared much about that anymore. It was easier to ‘behave’ than deny him his needs. Tonight would be no different.

  Fifteen minutes later, he returned wearing jeans but no shirt. Tiny beads of water dripped from his hair and onto his broad, muscular shoulders. Once upon a time, the sight of him wet from a shower would have turned me on. But there was no thrill or excitement to see him naked or bare chested anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time. Now I just found him repulsive but still managed to put on a fake smile as he approached. However, my smile faltered when I saw the look on his face. I knew that look.

  He was angry—very angry.

  “What the fuck is this, Gia?” The tone of his voice caused shivers to race down my spine all the way to the tips of my toes.

  Raising his hand, he held his palm open to reveal a pink plastic case. The round lid was unlatched, revealing the circular arrangement of birth control pills. I felt all the blood drain from my face. My mind raced, trying to recall my steps from earlier that morning. I had no idea how he found them. I was careful, always ensuring the floorboard was back in place. There was no way he could have found them by accident. But, no matter how he was able to find them, he did. Now he was waiting for an answer.

  I managed to keep my voice steady as I cocked up one brow in mock confusion.

  “I have no idea,” I said with a shrug. Denying they were mine was the only thing I could think to do.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “No. Honestly, Ethan. I don’t know what that is.”

  He took a step closer. I stepped back. My shoulders squared and survival mode kicked in. I’d been here too many times before. Reaching behind me toward the counter, I tried as hard as I could to inconspicuously shove the butcher knife I’d been using to cut vegetables out of sight.

  No weapons.

  If he got his hands on an object that could hurt me, he would. I may have recovered from a beating with a metal spatula but I didn’t want to chance a knife.

  But I was too late.

  Tossing the pills onto the counter, he grabbed hold of my arm and reached behind me for the knife. It all happened so fast, I had no time to react. I stayed perfectly still, petrified to move a muscle. His hand slid up from my arm to wrap around my neck and he pulled me close, squeezing until I could barely breathe. Bringing his lips to my ear, he pressed the flat side of the knife against my cheek.

  “I told you I wanted a baby, Gia. You’ve been deceiving me all this time. I should have known,” he whispered, his voice eerily calm. Goosebumps raced over my body and my heart began to thud loudly in my ears. I knew what this false calm meant. When he spoke this way, it was nothing short of terrifying.

  He grabbed hold of my hair and jerked my head back with a sharp tug. I sucked in a huge breath, not sure how long I had before his hand returned to crush my windpipe. That was his favorite method of punishment—cut off my air supply until I was begging.

  “Ethan, please. Let’s talk about this,” I whimpered.

  His next words made my pounding heart still and blood turn cold.

  “You’ve defied me for the last time, Gia. Things are going to getting much worse for you now. You will get pregnant. If it means I have to tie you down to the bed and fuck you bloody raw for days, I will. I’ll get what is owed to me. One way or another, I’ll get it.”

  I’d seen many sides to Ethan, but this maniacal look on his face was something entirely new. I had never before seen him this angry—this enraged. And for the first time, I felt genuinely afraid for my life. Fear slithered over skin until an all-consuming calamity of terror began pounding in my skull.

  “Ethan,” I tried to plead again, my voice barely a whisper.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “Having a baby was supposed to be the beginning of our future. You sabotaged that. Don’t you love me, Gia?”

  “Of course I love you,” I lied.

  “Then prove it! Take off your clothes. I won’t ask you again.”

  With shaking fingers, I began to unfasten the buttons of my silk blouse. Once the blouse fell open, Ethan took the knife and slipped it under the silky edge near my shoulder. Using the blade to push the material from my body, the blouse fell to the floor. Not bothering to wait for me to take my jeans off, he impatiently unzipped them himself and shoved them roughly down my legs. Too afraid to do anything other than comply, I stepped out of them.

  Tears spilled down my cheeks, but he was completely immune. He pushed my panties down my thighs next, then unfastened the clasp of my bra. He didn’t skip a beat, even when I whimpered from the violation that came from being so exposed. I could see the vein in his neck throbbing as he appraised my naked body. Even though he had seen me bare more times than I could count, his hungry, feral stare felt different this time.

  “Turn around and bend over the counter,” he said gruffly. I hesitated, not wanting to lose sight of him for a single minute. I would have rather he’d told me to drop to my knees and suck him off than turn my back on him.

  “Ethan, please. Don’t do this.”

  He smiled then, the curve of his lips a gleeful sneer as he traced the blade of the knife over my collar bone. I gasped as he slipped it down ever so slowly to my right breast. My nipple pebbled under the cold metal and his grin widened with delight. My stomach turned and I had to fight a wave of nausea.

  After brief
ly tracing the tip of the knife over my nipple, he continued down. To my horror, he slid the blade against the most intimate part of my body. I didn’t consider myself a religious person, yet I found myself praying to anything or anyone who would listen.

  Please…save me from this monster.

  “I’m not going to tell you to turn around again,” he warned. I choked on a sob and did as he wanted. Terrified that any sudden movement would inadvertently mutilate me, I slowly turned around and bent at the waist until my torso was pressed against the cool marble of the kitchen counter. I heard the clinging of his belt buckle, then the thud of his pants as they hit the floor. He grabbed a fistful of my hair once more and turned my head to the side. His free hand brought the knife down on the counter, his fingers still wrapped around the hilt. He placed it directly in my line of sight so I didn’t forget it was there. “I hold all the cards, Gia. It’s about time you remembered that. I’ve warned you to behave far too many times. I don’t like to hurt you, but you don’t know how to just fucking listen to me. Or maybe that’s why you don’t listen. Do you like it when I hurt you?”

  “No,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off the razor-sharp edge of the blade only mere inches from my face.

  “No what?” He yanked hard on my hair, pulling my head back before slamming it down against the counter. A sob rattled in my chest as I tried to bite back my tears.

  “N—no! I—I don’t like it when you hurt me!” I stammered.

  “Hmmm… I have a hard time believing that. I think you like pain. Have you ever been fucked in the ass, Gia?” He pushed forward and I felt his erection press hard against the place no man had ever been. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t get pregnant this way. He didn’t give a flying shit about that. It was all about control and this was a power play. I tasted my own fear sliding down my throat. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t dare. Instead, I began to beg.