I get off the bed, take a quick shower, and put on a t-shirt and yoga pants. I look like shit, and I don’t think my looks are going to get any better than they are today. They might get worse, but here’s hoping they don’t.
I make my way downstairs and hear Ehlga in the kitchen talking to one of the other maids.
I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone yet, so I grab my hooded jacket from the coat rack and head outside in the rain.
Knowing Ehlga, she’ll try to feed me with pastries or some sort of casserole because she doesn’t know what to do with me.
I presume she’s spoken to Desmier because I can’t imagine him not talking to her. Every time she sees me, she has that look of pity in her eyes. It’s obvious she’s aware Desmier and I aren’t on the best terms. Or any terms.
For the last few days, she’s tried to be there for me in whatever way she could, but today I just can’t be around people.
And with that decided, I’m not even going to brave going to that party tonight. Desmier has to come home and see me at some point.
I just wish it will be soon.
Flurries of rain cover my face, making it difficult to see, so I walk around to the garage.
A silly idea comes over me and I find myself heading inside through the side door. I don’t usually come in here. Most times, I’m dropped off at the front door. It’s only when I’ve been driving around with Desmier that I’ve ever been inside.
Inside are six of his eight vehicles. The black Porsche and the Ferrari are missing. I expected the motorcycle to be gone, but it’s tucked away in the corner with the helmet and one of his leather jackets hooked over the handle.
I walk over to it and run my fingers over the helmet, remembering that day mere weeks ago when he first came to pick me up from campus. He did that a few times after, then it was the wedding.
Things were actually perfect, and I was happy. I was so happy as we sailed across the Caribbean Seas as if that was our life and all we had to think about.
No one would ever have known there were still so many secrets between us.
Or that my little mistake would remind him he’s supposed to hate me.
I don’t even want to think of Dad now. Or Viktor.
Both disgust me. God knows what else there is I don’t know. I’m sure there’s plenty, and I can just imagine what I don’t know must be so much worse than the information I’ve been allowed to have so far.
I lift Desmier’s jacket, bring it to my nose, and inhale his scent. That masculine scent of power, possession, and safety.
“I don’t think Desmier would like you in here touching his things,” comes a voice I really don’t want to hear.
I turn around and see Gytha coming through the door. She stops a few paces away with her hands on her hips and a pout marring her model-like features.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” I pray she leaves me alone and goes away. I don’t have the strength for her today. I never had it before.
“I’ve known him much longer than you have, so I know he doesn’t like his things being touched by anyone other than him.”
She’s such a fucking bitch. Why,whyis she always around when I’m either at my lowest or I’m contemplating something important? Today I’m both.
“Gytha, I’m his wife. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
My tone and choice of words piss her off and she moves closer, like she’s going to hit me.
She stops in my personal space, and because she’s much taller than me, I instantly feel morevulnerable.
“You think just because he gave you his name it means anything? It means shit, especially to the likes of you.”
“What the hell do you mean by ‘the likes of me’?”
“You need to remember why you’re here. It’s not to play house or act like the little family you think you are.”
“Maybe so, but what about you? You follow him around like a desperate dog. Do you think he wants you?” I might have sounded more confident without the quiver and hurt in my voice, or that feeble undertone.