“Okay.” I rise, wiping my eyes. As I head to my bedroom, I look over my shoulder. “Wilkes?” He looks at me. “It’s Mikaela, remember?” His mouth twitches but as always, he never smiles. Since we left the castle, I’ve asked him to call me Cinder or Mikaela. He called me Mikaela once, then resorted to ma’am the next day.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in a restaurant overlooking a lovely garden when the conversation at the table behind me catches my ear.
“Listen to me, bitch. If you let your sister back into our lives, I’ll carve that other cheek of yours. I’m your husband, and I know what’s fucking best for us, not that bitch. You’re my whore. I tell you when you stop fucking my friends. Do you fucking understand?”
“Yes, Master,” came the shaky reply.
That simple word shoots through me with a fireball of emotion I thought I left behind in that green room. My head swivels around to look at them.
The woman sits with her back to me while the man, good-looking in an expensive suit, looks up from his coffee. “What the fuck are you looking at,” he snarls.
Stupidly, Kabir’s face skates into my vision before my eyes fall to the way the man grips the woman’s wrist, his fingers biting into her skin so hard, I can see her hand shaking.
Not sure what comes over me, my eyes holding his, I rise and move to stand at this table. His jaw clenches, anger making him ugly.
“What the fuck—” the man begins, then he’s eyes bug out when I feel Wilkes come up behind me. The man’s jaw snaps shut.
Ignoring him, I shift my gaze shifts to the woman opposite him. Her head bowed, her blond hair falling on either side of her cheeks, hides her face. “Are you okay?” I ask.
She goes to lift her head, and the man hisses out, “look at her, and you’re dead, Lacey.”
Anger rages inside me. Slowly, I turn to look at him. Without thinking, I pick up the fork lying on his half-eaten breakfast plate. All I feel is my hand rising before it slams down hard, piercing the back of his hand. I feel the resistance and force my strength into the plunge, letting the knife sink further until blood pinks the edges.
His howl resonates through the restaurant, drowning out the shocked gasps. I don’t have to look to know Wilkes’ deathly stare keeps everyone in their seats and the staff rooted to their spots where they stand.
“You’re a dead man if you come anywhere near her,” I grit out, releasing my hold on the fork. It stays upright.
I grin, shifting my gaze back to the woman now looking at me. Her one eye is almost as wide as the side plate in front of her, the other attempting to widen, the scar above it prevents it from doing so. A deep ridge in her right cheek looks raw and unattended. Her chest heaves, and anxiety colors her face in shades of terror.
“Breathe,” I say, taking one of her hands and placing it on my chest. “You’re safe.” I smile.
I don’t know how long I stand there until she finally calms down, and I release her hand. Her husband’s whimpers surround us, his blood tainting the white tablecloth.
“Would you like to come with me?” I ask her. Her eyes ping-pong between me and her husband. “You’ll never see him again, and you’ll never have to fear living,” I say. She nods, tears now rolling down her cheeks. “I promise,” I encourage her with a gentle hand on her arm.
She rises, and her husband opens his mouth to speak. I narrow my eyes at him, and maybe it’s my scowl or my determination, but for the first time since walking up to him, fear shadow’s the handsome face he’d probably used to charm this woman.
“She can be your wife, sister, mother, best friend, worst enemy, or your dream come true. It all depends on how you treat a woman but never underestimate her strength. I’d look both ways before you cross the next one,” I warn.
That day, I took Lacey back to my hotel room and made up my mind. As Wilkes said, I wanted to try something different. I decided to give women back the power they didn’t know they possessed or were too afraid to embrace.
Cinder’s Palace was born.
Whether fate intended it or not, I’d never know. Still, with Wilkes and Lacey’s help, I found a miniature version of Winthrop Castle and using the money Xavier gave me, I opened the doors to a haven for abused women. After hearing about what I’d done, several wealthy women contacted me, offering donations. With the money I still had, it kept Cinder’s Palace prospering.
“I’m fine,” I said, rising from the comfortable couch I’d slouched onto an hour ago.
She didn’t look convinced. “You’re not fooling me, you know.” She rolled her eyes when I scrunched my nose. “The new arrival is ready for you. She’s in a bad way. Pregnant.”
That had me clenching my fists and gritting my teeth to stay grounded. Children were God’s gift to parents. They deserved love and happiness, not rage and degradation. Silently, I righted my tiara, followed Lacey to the room we used for their introductions, and stepped in front of the woman seated on the pink couch.
