She stopped, her chest heaving with terror. Where the hell was that bastard and his guards? She did it again. Her elbow jolted and her shoulder screamed.
She paused.
Angry footsteps pounded on the floor above.
Laine gulped and positioned the hand holding the bottle neck behind her back. The icy-cold glass was a sharp contrast to her sweaty palm. The stomping reached the basement steps.
Laine pressed her lower back so hard against the radiator her tailbone ached. The door flung open.
Cameron’s bloodshot eyes glared at her. All the buttons on his navy dress shirt were undone. A white muscle shirt flashed underneath. Indignation twisted his face. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
She blinked, feigning innocence. “I have to use the bathroom.”
His mouth curled. “Go on the floor.” He pivoted.
“Cameron, wait,” she pleaded.
He paused, his fingers on the handle.
“I-I don’t want Emmy to see that ... if she comes down again, I mean. This is bad enough,” she said, lifting her chained wrist. Her eyes filled with tears. Real ones. Because the idea that tomorrow might be the last time she saw her baby girl destroyed her. “Please.”
His lips compressed. Slowly, he strode across the floor. The spilled bag of garbage filled her peripheral vision, and heat crept up her neck.
Cameron didn’t take his eyes off her, though. Stopping about two feet away, he studied her. His gaze slid over her face and down her body, then inched its way back up. He lifted his hand to her cheek.
She flinched when his knuckles grazed the spot he’d struck. “I loved you. Both of you.” The gentleness of his tone and touch made new worry skitter down her back.
The foul taste of fear filled her mouth. She tightened her hand on the bottle, but he wasn’t close enough yet. “We loved you too,” she croaked.
He shrugged. “It’s too bad. I’ll find another wife to raise her well. She’ll grow up with proper values—I never liked how you parented her. Always fussing over feelings.” He scoffed.
Laine pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. “Fuck you” was on the tip of her tongue, but she’d save that for when the life drained from his face.
“May I please use the bathroom?” She lifted her wrist but kept it close to her body so he’d have to lean in.
His mouth firmed. Obviously he wasn’t happy he couldn’t bait her. He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of two small keys. She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip as he paused less than an inch from the lock.
“I just want to know,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “How long were you screwing him, hmm?”
Laine’s head jerked back. “What are you talking about?”
His fingers bit into her wrist, making her grimace. “Don’t give me that,” he snarled. “I’m not stupid. I know who Roarke is. You tried to see him in London—were probably seeing him all along.”
Her mouth fell open. “Cameron, I was always faithful to you. I wanted to marry you, for god’s sake. We had plans that you broke. A family I knew nothing about.Another wife. All I wanted was you.”
“But that’s not all you had.” He sneered.
Her cheeks flamed. Insults fired inside her mouth, but she kept her lips clamped. She adjusted her grip on the bottle. He was close enough now, but if he freed her first, she’d have more time to escape. “May I use the washroom now?”
He exhaled a breath of frustration through his nose. “I should let you piss yourself,” he mumbled. Despite his sharp comment, he stuck the key into the lock and turned.
The chain clattered to the floor, and he sank his fingers into her bicep. “Move. I want to go back to sleep.”
Her brain worked rapidly as the seconds slowed. Terror spun her senses into a cyclone. Her skin turned to frost beneath his grip, and the blood drained from her head faster than water from a fire hose.
Now was her only chance.
Cameron hauled her away from the radiator, and the jerking motion snapped her into action. She drew back her arm and then leapt forward, driving the broken bottle toward him.
