He shakes his head. “You need rest, Honor, not preening.”
“It relaxes me.”
His lips twist to the side as his gaze narrows. I work to keep my heartbeat steady. “The doctor said I have to refrain from exercise and heavy lifting for a few weeks, but he encouraged me to resume other normal activities. Wasting away in this bed won’t allow me to be my best for you.”
Come on, Gideon. You don’t have the patience to dote on a sick wife.I had the flu a few months ago and was promptly moved into a guest bedroom and given a nurse to look after me. Gideon graced me with his presence twice a day—never entering the room as he got an update on my progress. That lasted three days, before I was punished for not healing fast enough. This current state had been inflicted on his wishes, however, and the ultimate prize at the end of it is likely to hold his beast at bay.
“Fine. I’ll book you an appointment with Anthony. I have meetings tomorrow, so we’ll drop you off on the way to the office, and I’ll have Mike stay with you.”
Shit. Mike is a focused bodyguard and misses little. I hoped it was going to be Montgomery. “Thank you.”
He nods and turns to leave, the door snicking closed behind him. The click of his expensive shoes disappears down the hallway. I let out a pained breath and stare at the ceiling. I tilt my head as a black dot moves. Another spider. Gideon hates them, and for that reason, I love them. They stand sentinel in rooms and bear witness to atrocities, whispered secrets, and the games played between lovers.
Minutes tick by. The door remains closed and my courage burns inside my heart.Come on, Honor, get up, prepare.
I pull the ice pack off my throbbing core and leave it on the pillow as I slide my legs off the bed. My head spins from the shock and lack of oxygen, no doubt. My teeth dig into my bottom lip until blood pools in my mouth as I stumble into the dressing room. I flick the light on and go for the top drawer in my half of the room. I remove a black silk nightgown and place it over my shoulder, in case Gideon catches me in here and I need an excuse. Next, I open the cupboard containing a multitude of designer purses. My hand grazes over them, and I select the tan leather bag that costs more than I used to make in ayear. A stylist updates my wardrobe monthly to ensure Gideon’s wife is dressed appropriately and on trend. But it’s not the brand, the price, or the style that draws me to this accessory. It’s the lining I’ve unpicked at the base. I lift the flap and gaze at the neat stack of bills.
The rich rarely carry physical cash, and when they do, they easily lose track of it. Their loss is my gain. I have painstakingly gathered this “loose change” over months.
I slide open the drawer the dress fitters use and gather a needle and cotton reel. My hand shakes as I try to thread it. I huff, my hands collapsing at my sides. “Get it together, Honor,” I admonish.
My teeth hurt as I grind them and retry. The thread feeds through the tiny metal opening, and I snap the cotton and tie a quick knot in the end. My hand steadies as I work to close the small hole in the lining. I remind myself that staying will result in my demise. Whether my mind or body breaks, Gideon won’t stop until he shatters me into irreparable pieces.
I gaze at my handiwork. You can’t tell. With a few items in here, he won’t notice the hundreds of dollars buried beneath the satin. My tongue runs over my teeth. I wish I was brave enough to enter Gideon’s office and retrieve my passport and driving license. I shake my head. What would be the point? He would use them to track me. No, I need to disappear into the bustling streets of New York like a ghost.
A spasm of pain tugs inside my core. My hand slaps against the wall as I groan, while the other clutches my stomach. “Fuck.” I can’t be found here. I have to get back to bed. Nothing can seem out of the ordinary.
I replace the sewing equipment in the drawer and slip the nightdress over my head. My gaze lands on the panel at the end of the dressing room. A small smile pulls at my lips. Never again. I’ll die before I’m taken inside the room of pain.He’llmake you wish you were dead if you get caught.There’s that insidious voice. The one that has seen me trapped inside this house for too long. My legs wobble as I stumble out of the dressing room and back into bed.
My heart thunders in my chest. This is the final night I will lie in bed next to Gideon. I have to leave, my heart can’t take any more. I need to protect my light, shield it from the darkness he brings. He once told me if I ever ran, he would never stop looking for me, and when—not if—he caught me, I wouldregret the day I defied Gideon Lowell.
Get ready to hunt, husband. I’m about to test your resolve.
CHAPTER 7
HONOR
Change is terrifying, but to remain is deadly.
Gideon hands me two pills, which I swallow with the sparkling water on the dining table. His gaze passes over me, assessing me, but he’s made me a master at shielding my real thoughts. All he will find is a dutiful wife, who wouldn’t dare to dream of a future without him. My pulse stays steady, and I force myself to relax.
He pockets the two medicine pots into his expensive black slacks. I have to get those pills. I won’t be able to seek medical help, and I don’t want to risk infection as my escape would be over so fast it would make my head spin. But timing is important, and if I asked now, he would only supply me with the one tablet I technically need. Better to wait until the last moment so he has less time to think it through.
“I’ll drop you off and return for you at lunchtime. We can eat at that little Italian bistro you love.”
Used to love.Before Gideon. My favorite is their secret recipe lasagne, but that rich explosion of flavor hasn’t gracedmy tongue in over eight months. Gideon’s change in behavior after we were married was subtle at first, a shift in perspective that you don’t even realize is happening. A few well-placed comments about weight and body image. Planting the fear that my husband would find me unattractive, slowly wearing away my independence. Like a creeping disease where you don’t know it is terminal, and by the time you do, it’s too late.
I swipe my tan purse from the sideboard as we leave the house. Gideon grabs an umbrella and opens it to shield us from the misty rain. The mirror image of our fateful meeting isn’t lost on me. While I once found it an endearing ‘how we met story,’ now it makes my chest hurt. It’s been a long time since I danced in the rain. I vow to the stormy clouds gathering above I will find my way back beneath them, welcoming them with open arms.
We duck into the town car. Mike climbs into the front with Montgomery, the vigilant bodyguard. He might be a problem, but I have a plan.
Gideon works on his iPad while I gaze out of the window, watching the familiar streets of New York pass by as we drive through the city that never sleeps. After today, it’s unlikely I will ever step foot in the place I fell in love with. It’s too dangerous, even with the millions of people here.
We pull up outside a building. The frosted glass declares this simply as Anthony’s. He is the best hairdresser in New York and has become a dear friend over the last year. Hairdressers are the perfect spies; they see beneath your beautiful to the darkness. They observe the dynamics of your nearest and dearest and accurately assess the relationship. Most of them say nothing. Anthony isn’t most.
The car door swings open, and Gideon expands the umbrella and takes my hand to guide me up the few steps and through the heavy-set wooden entrance.
Anthony looks up from the reception desk with a megawatt smile. As always, he has everyone cleared out for my appointment. No extra staff, no other customers. I hate the power Gideon has and how he uses it to manipulate others into doing exactly what he wants.
