He tests the skin on his cheek and takes another step toward me. I hold my ground and spread my arms to block his view of Rose. “You touch her again, and I’ll kill you.”
This time, he laughs at me. A loud sniffling guffaw and then he spins around the room like it’s all a joke. “You, tiny little Valentine, think you can kill me?”
His face becomes serious, and he pulls a black handgun from a holster under his arm. “How are you going to do that when you can’t even look at a gun?”
He’s right. Even now, I can’t stand the sight of it. I almost throw up my toast when he pushes the barrel against my lips and forces it against my teeth. With no choice, I stand there and take it, but I look him in the eye the entire time. If he wants to shoot me, he’s going to watch the millions of dollars he would have gotten through our marriage bleed out my brain.
Another heartbeat later, he turns away and goes back to his desk. I don’t have to say a word to Rose. We both flee from the room up to my bedroom. I lock the door and drag the heavy armoire in front of it.
Rose is huddled on the other side of the bed, her knees against her chest and her face in the carpet.
Tears are pouring down her cheeks, and mine, I realize as I gather her into my arms and rock her gently against my chest. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I was supposed to keep you safe, and he got to you anyway. I never thought he would touch you.”
She doesn’t respond, and all I can do is hold her until she falls asleep. Then I grab my pillow and blanket off the bed to make her more comfortable.
My brain is strangely empty when I go to my bedside table and pull out both the black card and my cell phone. I dial the number and hit send.
It rings several times, and then a female voice says, “Hello?”
I suck in a slow inhale and blow it out soft enough it’s not heard through the line. Then I say, “I’m calling to speak to Adrian, please.”
* * *