I hazard a glance in Caleb’s direction, but he’s studying the wine in his glass. What am I supposed to say here?
I do want to do it. I need it. He and Ramone have me on lockdown every hour of the day. To draw a few breaths free of them? I won’t have a better excuse than Caleb’s boss practically ordering him to “let” me do it.
“Sure.” I spread an easy smile around the table. “I’d love to help.”
“Great,” Michael Cross says, offering me a friendly smile. “Then it’s settled.” His eyes are a little stonier when they pass to Caleb. “That’s okay with you, right, Caleb?”
“Of course.” Caleb links his fingers with mine on the table, turning our hands so his albatross of a ring catches the light perfectly. “Iris will represent our family well.”
“Oh, I just noticed your ring,” Sylvia says, her eyes widening at the rock weighing down my finger. “I didn’t realize … well … congratulations.”
Her eyes rest covetously on the engagement ring during a chorus of well wishes from everyone at the table,
You can have him!
I want to scream it so that Sylvia and every woman in a thirty-mile radius knows I don’t want Caleb and he’s on the market. If you like being slapped around, blackmailed, entrapped, and held prisoner, he’s your man.
Because he’s certainly not mine.
Keeping up appearances is important to him. At Caleb’s side, I’m a chandelier, lit and sparkling with artificial light. Tonight, he needs me to shine. Fortunately, Cross has taken away Caleb’s choice in the matter.
How’s that feel, Caleb? Having your choices taken away?
A few hours later, he taunts me with his silence in the car on the way home. If he started in on me as soon as we were alone, that would make sense. But no, he likes to keep me on my toes, so I’m a little mouse unsure of when the snake will strike.
It’s not until I’m in the bathroom preparing for bed that he broaches the subject again. He approaches me from behind. In the mirror, his broad shoulders and naked chest come into view, the sculpted planes and muscled belly no temptation to me. I lift my eyes to meet his in the reflection, the serenity of my expression belied by my pounding heart. He’s left me alone lately, probably because he knew the dinner was coming. And now, next week there’s the community center. My face in the mirror is unmarked, and it will stay that way.
That’s not true of my arms, banded with dark circles where his fingers have gripped, or of my back, bruised from his shoe. He’s marked me in so many secret ways, I’m afraid that even when I escape, I’ll never be rid of him.
But I will escape.
It’s not enough to run, to get away from Caleb. Even if I run, his lies will hunt me down, and in the end, he’ll have access to Sarai. For me, that’s not winning. That’s not freedom. And when Caleb says he’ll kill me if I leave him, he means it. There’s murder in his eyes, a yet-to-be-pulled trigger. I have to be smarter than that. Smarter than him. He trapped me, and I have to lay a trap for him. The timing has to be perfect. I may only get one shot.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret next week,” he says softly.
I wipe away my makeup, eyes set on my reflection in the mirror. I don’t acknowledge him—a tiny rebellion. The only one I’m allowed.
“Did you hear me?” He grabs my arm in exactly the place that is already marked, drawing a wince and a sharp breath from me.
“I heard you.” I look at him in the mirror and nod. “What would I do, Caleb? Run? I tried that, remember?”
“Just don’t forget next week when you’re at the community center.” His hand wanders down my arm, slips around my waist, and creeps up to cup my breast. “I have so much on you, you’ll be lucky to see Sarai on weekends.”
“I’m well aware, Caleb.” I tense under his hand, bitterness flavoring the words in my mouth. “Of what’s at stake.”
Ms. Darling called last week to make sure Sarai was still “safe.” She said we were fine for now and shouldn’t need any more home visits, but I need to find that journal and turn the tables on Caleb. He used the things most important to me against me—my family and my daughter. He knows I would die before I allowed him to have even joint custody of Sarai, having seen what he’s capable of. He’s schemed to be so many steps ahead of me before I realized I was even in the game.
“I can’t believe Cross had the nerve to bring up West,” Caleb says harshly, his fingers tightening on me. “That motherfucker stole Rookie of the Year from me.”
He squeezes my nipple, and I draw a deep breath, breathing through the pain.
“West always wants what’s mine,” Caleb goes on, his eyes on me in the mirror, his mind on August. “He can’t have you, though.
I nod jerkily, counting to ten to distract myself from the needles of agony piercing my breast. And then his hand is gone.
I lean weakly against the bathroom counter, hoping he walks away. I pray he leaves me alone, but like so many nights when I’ve prayed over the last few months, no one is listening.
He pushes the hem of my nightgown over my hips until cool air hits my thighs and butt. He shoves my panties down. They hit the floor, encircling my ankles like cuffs. He presses my back, forcing my chest to the bathroom counter. My cheek slams into the cold quartz.