“I am,” I managed to say.
He stepped forward, and I stepped to the side, anticipating the need to move quickly.
“Why are you doing this, Melissa? What could you possibly want that you don’t have here?”
My eyes widened. “Is that a joke?”
“Not at all. You live like a queen.”
I shook my head not knowing where to begin answering his question. As if he even deserved an answer. “We really don’t know each other at all, do we?”
“Apparently not,” he said, entering my room. I followed trying to get around him to my dresser drawer, but he stayed between me and my one small protection.
“If we did,” he continued, “you’d know how much I detest divorce.”
I flashed at his attempt to take some moral high ground. “I don’t believe in husbands raping their wives.”
He rolled his eyes, waving a hand. “I didn’t rape you.”
“You tried,” I snapped.
“It was a misunderstanding. And anyway, some women like it rough.”
The rage I’d held inside for over three months roared in my chest, choking me with its ferocity. I cleared my throat, shaking my head, trying to stay calm. “Are you saying some women like being beaten?”
He leveled his brown eyes on mine. “You threw the first punch.”
Shudders kept moving through my body. We’d never discussed that night since it happened, and my resistance to talking about it had left me unprepared for how it would affect me if I did. I wasn’t sure I could do this alone.
“You tried to rape me,” I said, my voice small, my throat painfully tight. “I was only defending myself.”
“Regardless,” he continued, as if enjoying my discomfort. “You started it. I finished it. And I bet you never hit me again.”
I turned to face my open door, ready to run and not caring if I took anything with me. I wanted to leave this place for good. Tonight.
As if reading my mind, Sloan quickly moved from my dresser to catch my upper arm, jerking me against his body. “You’re my wife,” he hissed in my ear. “You belong to me. No matter what you think you’re going to do, that fact will always remain.”
Tears spilled onto my cheeks. I couldn’t catch my breath, and a hiccup jerked my shoulders. “Please let me go,” I whimpered.
His grip remained tight on my arm. “I’ll never let you go. And even when you’re gone, I’ll know every step you take. You are never out of my reach.”
My heart hammered, and I tried to keep my shoulders straight. I refused to cower to him. Still, my body instinctively shrank from his touch. I hadn’t wanted to believe he might hurt me again. But now I knew he would.
He loosened his hold and shoved me back before stalking out of my room, slamming the door behind him. I dashed to it, quickly turning the lock, knowing it wouldn’t keep him out if he wanted back in.
I ran to my closet and pulled out a suitcase, throwing every outfit I could get my hands on into it as sobs gasped from my throat, fear strangling my voice. The check might be in the mail, but I wasn’t waiting anymore.
I slept with my door locked and the pepper spray clutched in my hand all night. I didn’t want to take my car—I didn’t want to take anything that might be considered community property. Late in the night, once I’d calmed down, I called Elaine and asked if she could come and get me now. I didn’t want to tell her why or scare her, but she knew something was wrong. She said she’d be on the road first thing in the morning. I only had to survive six more hours before we’d be gone. Six hours of acting like nothing was coming. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.
All night my mind kept running to Derek as I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. One thing Sloan had said troubled me—that even when I was gone he knew ever
y step I took, that I was never out of his reach. When Hal was waiting for me at the airport, I’d mistakenly assumed Sloan had figured out where I went. I thought he’d weaseled the information from my mom or found a stray email on my Macbook. Now I knew the truth. He hadn’t figured it out. Clearly, he was having me watched.
The perfect person who could help me with this was Derek. If Sloan had hired a private investigator to track me, Derek would know exactly how to handle the situation. It was possible he might even know the person or be able to find him or her easily. The only problem was I didn’t want to involve Derek in my disgusting backstory. With everything in me, I didn’t want him to know what Sloan had done. Partly because I was afraid if he knew, he wouldn’t want me anymore. He’d think I was too damaged, or maybe he’d believe Sloan. He’d think I started it and what happened was my fault. I shuddered at the thought.
But if Sloan was having me watched, and I tried to see Derek, it would all come out anyway. I cringed at the prospect. My story was so humiliating and awful. I wouldn’t blame Derek if he wanted to walk, knowing I had a psycho ex-husband lurking around. The pain of these thoughts kept me troubled all night.
By morning, I’d formulated a plan. What if there was a way I could find out who was working with Sloan on my own? What if I could talk to the person, reason with him or her, or even pay the person off somehow? Maybe I could solve my problem without Derek ever having to know…