Noah’s probably right, but I’m not going to ask Luce. She’s been traumatized enough. So let Karl try. I wasn’t kidding about destroying him if he doesn’t stay away. Actually, I’m going to go ahead and do that anyway, since it’s the least he deserves. He should have every bone in his body pulverized.
When I recall how Luce blamed herself, I wish I could grab that asshole now and throw him from the roof of a skyscraper. I don’t think Karl actually hit her before. She wouldn’t have been in shock for so long if it was a common occurrence. But that doesn’t mean he treated her with dignity and respect, either.
I read somewhere that victims sometimes blame themselves because they want to believe the world is logical and they need to cling to the belief that bad situations can be avoided if they themselves do better. But I loathed the way she took that whole weight on to her shoulders. Her tears ripped at my heart.
It was all I could do to maintain control—she needs me to be her rock, not some raving maniac.
–Me: Thanks. That won’t be necessary. I’ll do it my way. She’s my wife.
–Nicholas: I thought you’re still upset about her forcing you to marry her? You want us to quit buying up the Peery Diamonds shares?
I scowl.
–Me: That’s a separate issue.
–Nicholas: Got it.
Despite his response, I wonder if he really does get it. He isn’t the most relationship-savvy guy. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be pining over some girl to the point that he’s getting advice fromNoahon what to do.
–Emmett: Need help avenging your wife?
–Huxley: I can come up with something creative.
–Me: Thanks, but I’ve got this one. Believe me.
–Noah: FYI, he gambles a lot. And loses. He owes a ton of money to one of the casinos he frequents, and unless I’m mistaken, the place is connected to the mob. If he doesn’t cough up the cash, it won’t end well for him.
That’s a lot of information he’s gathered about Karl.
–Emmett: How do you know so much already?
–Noah: Research. God created social media for a reason.
–Griffin: God most definitely did NOT create social media.
–Noah: You could win the Nobel Prize if you spent more time on social media for research, Griff. Anyway, what I’m saying is that even if you do nothing, he might disappear all on his own.
–Me: They collect their debts, and I’ll collect mine.
Luce comes out of the bathroom. She’s in a night T-shirt that ends a few inches above her knees. Her hair’s a little damp, but the makeup’s gone, and she doesn’t look as blotchy as before, although her eyes are still bloodshot.
I put my phone away. Is she the type to lick her wounds alone? I don’t want to leave her side. “Do you need anything?”
She hesitates. Then she finally nods, wrapping her hand over her other elbow awkwardly. “Can you just hold me tonight?”
“Of course,” I say, the tension easing. “Let me change. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
The next morning, I open my eyes then blink a little. The bedroom smells like flowers and lavender…like Luce. I turn my head and watch her sleep. She must have been exhausted. She hasn’t stirred even once.
Probably needs the sleep to recover from the trauma. Fucking Karl.
I stay in bed for a while, listening to her breathing. It’s even and slow, and she clings to me like she knows she’ll be safe. The fact that she trusts me to protect her sends an indescribable sense of tenderness through me.
When my stomach starts to growl, I get up carefully and pad down to the kitchen. Matthias is off, so it’s just me and Luce for the day. I start some coffee and head to the pantry to grab English muffins. The area has been cleaned and tidied up. Most likely Nicholas’s doing. My brothers are great, but they aren’t the neatest, except for him. And Amy definitely wouldn’t have done it—cleaning isn’t her thing.
I toast the muffins, pull out some jam and butter and check my phone for messages. There are multiple texts from my brothers.
