CHAPTER 1
BELLE
“You’re wearing the red dress or I’m cutting you,” Katrina called from the kitchen.
I tugged on the hem of the miniature dress she gave me, blowing out a breath, and stared at the ridiculous amount of pale leg I was offering up. I hated that my first wonder was if Declan would allow me to wear something that revealing.
Glaring at myself, I shoved the image of the monster’s face aside. You’d think this shit we blandly call domestic abuse didn’t happen to someone like me, a nerd who was smart enough to get her PhD when she was twenty-five, a Psychology professor herself a year later?
Well, it did.
For years.
Why had I let it go on this long?
The monster I knew… Or so I’d told myself.
Katrina’s heels echoed from the kitchen and to my bedroom in eight steps. Yeah, I counted when I was unpacking.
I’d gone from a huge house in California to a tiny Forest Grove apartment slightly bigger than my former living room. The apartment felt even smaller once I’d unpacked, and Katrina asked me at least five times since she’d set foot in it why I’d chosen such a place.
I chose it because it was the only one available when I moved to Oregon in such a hurry without a chance to secure a place to live first.
But I didn’t care.
It was unlike anything I’d known since I got married. Plus, the place had giant bay windows framing every room and a forest view. It was beautiful, and I’d never felt happier in the past ten years of my life.
“Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t wear this,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, her boobs perking up even more in that perfect green dress.
“Because you,” I gestured at her reflection in the mirror, “are wearing that. I mean, look at your boobs. Your legs are perfectly tanned, but mine… You can pull something like this, but I…” I chuckled and moved away from the mirror, plopping down on the edge of the bed, hoping she’d buy my lie.
She sighed as she sat next to me. “So it has nothing to do with that dick asshole fucker who put you in hospital between life and death—”
“Katrina, please,” I interrupted her, barely meeting her huge, green eyes that looked evengreenerwith the dress on.
She cocked a brow, staring me down. “Please what?”
I didn’t want any recollection of that image today. It was my first birthday without Declan after ten miserable ones, and she drove all the way from Washington to help me celebrate, not to revive one of the worst experiences of my life.
But I didn’t want to be a dick to her either. She was my only friend left, the only one who stuck around when everybody else thoughtIwas the one driving them away. And I’m very thankful she got me this gig here in Oregon. I wouldn’t have dreamt of teaching again after…
A troubled sigh escaped my chest. “You must understand he’s all I’ve known for ten years. He’s messed up with my head. It’s going to take a while before I’m…finally liberated.”
Her face softened, and she gave me a hug. “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry you had to go through this. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.” She pulled away and smiled at me. “You can start living the life you deserve. And when is a better time to start than your birthday?”
“Can’t think of one.”
Her smile turned into a laugh. “That’s my girl.” She shot up and dashed to the window. “We’re drinking and dancing and showing skin.”
“I still don’t know how much skin I want to show. I’d like to…you know…stay single for a while.”
“Not on your birthday. Ever heard of hot, meaningless sex? One night stands?”
My jaw hung low. “Yeah, I…don’t do those.”
“Tonight, you will. The women at the club will be flaunting their asses, so showing some legs and boobs is mandatory. Besides,” she said, pointing to the street below, “it’s too late to change. The limo’s here.”
Swearing in my head, I got into my favorite red pumps I was only allowed to wear at home, for Declan. They made me look as if I was showing more leg, and I barely recognized myself. I looked like a woman who owned her shit. Daring, confident and hot.
