Deep down she knows it as she yawns and her bleary eyes open. Sadness inks the dark pools that are her eyes, an apology without words.
She’s aware she’s fucked up big time.
Her silence further illustrates she understands I’m pissed. That I don’t want to hear from her right now.
But as time passes and I finish running the sponge over her, she makes an attempt. Voice quiet, words a murmur, she says, “Cael… I love you.”
“You should worry more about what you’ve done than the love you say you have for me. Get up. Your bath is over.”
She’s frowning as she rises and waits for me to wrap a towel around her shoulders. I lead her into the bedroom for the pajamas Ms. Poitier laid out for her.
“Cael…” she says once she spots the garments on the bed and realizes I’m headed for the door. “Will I be coming to your room tonight?”
“You’ll be staying here where I’m leaving you. If I wanted you in my room, Nevaeh, you would be there.”
“But—“
“Stop talking and learn to obey!” I snarl despite my prior cool demeanor. Heat prickles to life in my glare, and I bare my teeth at her. “You had your chance at freedom—at being mywife—and you fucking threw it away.”
I storm from the room and let my superhuman strength out on the door. It slams shut and practically rattles the surrounding foundation. It certainly must’ve made Nevaeh jump. She doesn’t like when I’m brutish around her.
But everything Nevaeh thinks and likes or dislikes is out the window. None of it matters anymore.
I have to reprogram my brain to stop caring how she feels. I have to remember she’ll be my prisoner if she won’t be my wife, and for her betrayal, it’s deserved.
The next night we attempt a civilized dinner. Umberto sits Nevaeh at the long dinner table we’ve dined at dozens of times before. In more recent days we’d forgone the space between us. Nevaeh sat in the chair directly on my right, and we leaned in so close our knees often touched. We ate off each other’s plates, and Nevaeh kissed crème off my lips.
It couldn’t be more different now.
She’s on the far end. I’m seven seats down on the opposite side. The cutlery and silverware clink and clang as Umberto serves us various platters of food. I fill my plate up easily while Nevaeh barely has any food on hers.
Her expression’s small and downturned. Her eyes dimmed to match.
She gives off sad puppy vibes. She’s beautiful in a maroon dinner dress that looks perfect against her mahogany skin.
Yet I couldn’t give less of a damn. I don’t even bother lecturing her to eat. If she wants to throw a silent tantrum and starve herself, then she’s permitted to do so.
I’m done treating mia bella ballerina special.
My indifference lasts for the first half hour of the meal. It begins to fade the longer Nevaeh keeps up her sad puppy act. Soon indifference becomes irritation as I grit my teeth and think about how she’s trying so hard. She wants my forgiveness so badly, yet she ran away from me. She broke her vows.
How can she possibly expect forgiveness? The mere idea makes me rumble on the inside. Hot anger takes over me, and I become so disgusted, I can’t be in her presence.
Evenseeingher is a reminder of what she’s done. Her big betrayal.
“Clear this,” I snap at Umberto. I stride for the door, clenching and unclenching my fists. “Have Ms. Poitier bring her back up to her room.”
“Are you headed out, sir?” he asks.
“Yes. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Nevaeh cries out my name, but she goes ignored. I don’t even spare her a look over my shoulder, further cementing how little I care.
…how low my view of her has fallen.
I drive into the city. By the time I’m reaching the seedy downtown area it’s long after dark. It’s the after hours, where the criminals crawl through the city and have their fun.
On a night like tonight the air itself feels like it’s frozen into icy mist. I pull up outside the Orchid Lounge and survey the area. My father’s town car is up against the curb outside the exotic club. In his mid-fifties, he more often than not falls asleep over his cigar and drink after dinner.
