But she kept going. “Do you understand?” she pressed her husband.
I stayed turned toward the window to hide my face—or at least half of it—or maybe I wanted to appear as if I weren’t following the conversation, but the car was too small a space to escape his presence. I couldn’t not hear every word.
Wasn’t this something they should’ve discussed before getting married? Or wasn’t this a deal-breaker for my sister?
“Let’s get some things straight,” he said calmly, “because I think you’ve forgotten exactly what your situation is, Arion.” He paused and then continued. “You get my name. You get an allowance. You get to preserve your social standing in this community, including your lunches and your shopping and your fucking charities.” His hard voice dug her grave deeper with every word. “Your mother and sister don’t wind up on the streets, and that is where my obligation to you ends. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and don’t ask me questions. It aggravates me.”
My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as my stomach tightly knotted.
He continued, “I will fuck women who aren’t you, but you can’t fuck men who aren’t me, because no one else can father my kids. Duh,” he added snidely. “I will come and go as I please, and I expect you to be dressed and ready on the rare occasion we need to play the couple in public. You may not be the happiest wife, Arion, but I’m told this is why God invented Saks and Xanax.”
No one said anything, and I tightened my fist around my skirt, suffocating with their lack of guts to fight back. But as much as I hated his honesty, I appreciated it. There would be no illusions or false hopes in their marriage. Damon never lied.
Except when he did.
“And if you want to live through this,” he warned, “I would adjust as quickly as possible, since the only way you’re getting out of this marriage is in the event of your death.”
“Or yours,” I mumbled.
Everyone was silent for a moment, and the hair on my arms rose, but I still smiled inside. I imagined he was probably glaring at me with those same black eyes I remembered; not quite hidden under that same smooth, thick hair I was pretty sure no one else but me had ever touched, but I didn’t care. This was going to be bad no matter what. I wouldn’t do him or his family any favors by walking on eggshells.
“We understand, Damon,” my mother finally said.
The car slowed, and I heard the gate to our estate creak open, and then the car sped forward again taking us home. I remained huddled at the end of the seat, against the window and feeling my body pull as we circled the drive and stopped up in front of our home.
Maybe I should be grateful that we still had the house. My father—the mayor of Thunder Bay—was gone, our businesses, assets, and real estate seized, and nearly every dollar to our names taken. My mother was thankful that Ari and I could at least sleep in our beds and not lose the place where we’d grown up.
But she was delusional. None of this was ours anymore. The house and everything in it was in Damon’s father’s name. We truly had nothing.
You would think that’d be heartbreaking, but there was a freedom in knowing that I no longer had anything to lose. He’d never fought someone who had no fear.
The door opened, and I heard bodies shift as they rose.
“I’m not coming in,” Damon said.
There was a moment of silence and then my sister’s brief protest. “But…”
But she didn’t finish. I didn’t know if she just decided it wasn’t worth the effort, if my mother gestured for her to shut up, or if she remembered his instruction not to ask questions, but she passed me and climbed out of the car, the soft scent of her Gucci perfume following behind her. The train of her dress brushed over my flats.
My mother passed next, always preceding me, so she could guide me to the front door.
But as soon as I scooted forward, I was grabbed by the collar, hauled forward into a hard body, and the car door was slammed shut right before I heard the lock click.
I sucked in a breath, an electric current coursing under my skin as his warm breath fell on my lips.
“Winter?” my mom called from outside. “Damon, what’s going on?”
I heard one of them jiggle the handle, trying to get the door open again.
“Hey.” My sister’s voice followed and a knock on the window.
I made to move my arms to push him away, but dropped them back to my side almost immediately. He wanted me to fight him, and I wasn’t ready to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.
“Wise choice,” he whispered. “Save your strength, Winter Ashby. You will need it.”
His breath caressed my mouth, tickling the corners, as his chest rose and fell faster than before.
He wasn’t calm anymore.