“I’m ready,” I told him with a smile, the same fake smile I’d wear all night, before I lifted my own elaborate, abstract silver mask to my face. For the four previous Halloweens, I’d been a mischievous cat, a sly fox, a brightly-colored bird, an angel.
But it was time to face the truth. I was no longer sly or mischievous or bright or free. Tonight’s mask was a beautiful nothing.
He headed for the door, but stopped to turn back and say, “Remember, tonight is for you.”
Then he was gone, and I could breathe.
He told me all the time how he did everything for me. Looking around our penthouse, it certainly seemed true. When I looked up through the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights sparkled in the distance. From where I sat at my vanity in our enormous bedroom, I could look out over one of the city’s finest views. Behind me was a walk-in closet big enough to house a small family, and it was filled with Louboutins and every other fine thing. It turns out, happiness really doesn’t come with red bottoms.
I didn’t look at the camera mounted high on the ceiling, the one that watched me while I was at my vanity. There were a dozen cameras scattered throughout the house. There was no angle that he missed.
On the big screen television mounted on the wall across from our bed, he liked to replay the videos sometimes of us having sex. Or sometimes, he replayed the ones of him beating me, when he thought I was losing my sense of submission but hadn’t yet really provoked him.
The two of us would sit in bed together, and he’d caress my back or my leg, his neatly trimmed fingernails grazing my skin, as the tape played. My stomach tightened until I felt as if I’d throw up. As he sipped his cocktail, I’d swallow the rise of bile in the back of my throat. The ice rattling in his crystal glass would do nothing to cover the sounds from the television. He was usually silent in those videos; there was only the dull thud of the blows and my panting, my begging. Please, please, you’re going to kill me…
One night, he really would kill me. When I watched those videos, deep hopelessness settled into my bones.
I’d been his wife for four Halloweens, and five escape attempts, and every time he found me. Every time, he’d been more merciless than the last. I’d have a private doctor and team of nurses to supervise my recovery from the last time, which had taken months.
I knew I wouldn’t survive another failed escape.
There was nothing left to do but be good, as he said. There had been a lot of good days too, after all. Early in our marriage, he’d seemed so amused by all the things I’d never experienced, after growing up poor and in and out of foster care. He’d been eager to give me the world. We’d learned to dance the tango in Argentina together and he’d taught me to ice skate in Rockefeller Center. We fell asleep on our private beach in Tahiti after snorkeling, and when we woke up with lopsided sunburns, we’d laughed at each other.
Even now, there were good times, but I couldn’t make myself love him anymore. I was afraid I didn’t even convince him anymore. But whether he could see past my facade or not, it didn’t matter, as long as I kept playing the role of the perfect wife.
Starting with tonight.
He didn’t appreciate it when I was late. He might be watching me even now, as I stared into space like the robot I’d become the past few years. The thought sent a chill rolling up my spine, and I forced myself into action, pinning my hair up quickly.
I slipped on my heels and walked out of the penthouse. In the hallway, two burly security guards watched the door. I wasn’t allowed to talk to them, and since I was pretty sure the security guard who had helped me with escape attempt three had been murdered, I didn’t even try.
They came with me as I took the elevator to the party, which was housed in the private reception area on the rooftop. I passed the coat check where a young woman in a dark vest was cheerfully taking coats, which were lightly dusted with rain. I startled a little when I saw the rain. Yes, somewhere in the back of my mind I’d known it was raining, but I’d somehow forgotten. Without the smell of rain in the air, or the feel of the drops on my flesh, it was like nothing outside of the stale air of our penthouse existed.
It didn’t help that I hadn’t left the building in weeks.
The rooftop was darker than usual, atmospherically lit with black and purple candles and décor of black trees strung with little sparkling lights. The DJ was spinning music that seemed to thump underfoot. Most of the rooftop’s cover had been raised, but the pool area was still open, rain streaking the concrete around the pool.
Young women danced by the pool, their bodies swaying and arms above their heads as if they were lost to the music. One of them held her mask above her head, her face turned up toward the moonlight. She looked so light-hearted that I stared at her for a second, and then someone touched my arm. I turned with a smile already fixed on my face. All night long, I made small talk with an endless series of his friends and their wives or girlfriends.
Then I turned a corner and saw him, with a woman pinned against the wall. Her lips were parted, her skirt hiked around her waist. When she saw me, she pushed away from him, her eyes widening. He turned and saw me.
I backed away. I went back to the party, smiling until my cheeks ached, pretending that there was nothing wrong.
“No baby yet?” Lara asked me brightly, cupping her hand over my flat stomach.
“No,” I said with a laugh. Never a baby, I hoped. As much as I longed for a child who would love me and that I could love, truly and deeply, I could never have a baby with him. I couldn’t protect that baby. Life would be a thousand times harder if I had someone besides myself to protect. “We’re trying though. How’s it going with you guys?”
She flashed me a secretive smile, raising a finger to cover her perfectly painted hot pink lips, the only thing that showed beneath the edges of her peacock mask.
“Oh, Lara! I’m so happy for you!” I gasped, meaning it. Her husband seemed to genuinely adore her, even though he was involved in the same kind of rough business that my husband was.
She grinned wider as we hugged, then said, “Thank you. I’m so happy.”
From the corner of my eye, I sensed him storming toward me, and my stomach hardened. Her face changed as if she’d seen my smile falter.
“Excuse us, please,” he said to Lara, grabbing my elbow. His fingers pressed bruises into my skin as he hustled me toward the building.
We only made it as far as the coat check. “Go away,” he muttered at the girl, pushing me into the enormous closet behind the counter. He swung the door shut behind us, and the two of us were alone in the room that was lined with fur coats and expensive jackets.
I stared at him, his eyes blazing with rage, and tried to figure out what he wanted me to say. When he took a step toward me, his eyes narrowing, I dropped my gaze to the expensive tile underfoot and waited, knowing I couldn’t stop what was about to happen.
“Do you think you have any friends?” His voice came out soft and furious. “Do you think any of those people out there care about you?”
I chose my next words with care. “No one matters to me except you…”
“Bullshit,” he snapped, stepping close to me, grabbed my hair. His fingers sank into the chignon I’d coiled, and he jerked my head back. His lips were close to my ear when he muttered, “You don’t get to look at me like I’m the whore. If you can’t get pregnant like Lara, then I have to go elsewhere, don’t I?”
My lips parted but no sound came out. He had to realize how ridiculous he was, getting angry at me when he was the one who had just fucked some girl up against the wall in the midst of a party full of our friends.
But he was right, no one would take my side. And no matter what I said now, he would continue to blame me. Arguing with him would only make it worse.
So much worse.
“Don’t I?” He growled again, jerking my head back and forth violently. I felt some strands of my hair tear out around his fingers.
“Yes,” I wh
ispered. Anything to make him stop. “Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry.”
I’d say anything he wanted to hear. I was a survivor now. Each day was just about continuing to breathe in and out until it was over.
“No one cares about you,” he repeated. “You can go out there wearing my bruises and they’ll know who you belong to…and you won’t forget it either.”
My stomach sank. Even now, even tonight, he would hurt me. Even though I hadn’t argued… there truly was no stopping him. No matter what I did, my life with him would never be anything more than pain.
“Please,” I begged, knowing that even if I screamed, people would hear from the party, but no one would come.
And I was right.
No one came.
Two
He left me lying there on the floor.
Watching the overhead light revolve through bleary eyes, my memory pulled me back in time to the girl I’d been, laying on my back at the playground, in the same position I was in now. The sun had turned my eyelids red, and I smiled at the wash of warmth over my body. My life as a kid had so many moments of darkness and pain, but I’d felt happy and free when I lay wiggling my toes in the grass, my face turned up toward the sun. I’d thought then that I would remember that moment.
That girl was still inside me, fighting for life and freedom and her dreams. He’d almost convinced me that she was dead. But she wasn’t. If I could feel her inside of me even now, broken and bleeding, then I wasn’t a lost cause yet. I was still someone worth fighting for.
I needed to escape this place before I completely lost her. Even if he found me again. Even if he killed me this time. At least I could feel the rain. At least I could lie in the grass and be that girl again, if only for a day.
Soon he’d send his men to watch over me. I only had a few minutes, if that. I could imagine him winding through the masked partygoers, on his way to give his men their orders before he found another woman to fuck. I pictured him without his Halloween mask. He was monstrous with or without it.
And then I realized that I was picturing him that way because he’d lost his mask. It was a dark blotch across the floor, half-hidden under the coats. I got to my hands and knees with a groan, feeling a painful pulling in my abdomen, and groped for the mask.
With a plan now, I stumbled to my feet. I threw on someone else’s coat, moving quickly despite the deep radiating pain through my body. I put on someone else’s silky scarf, making sure the bruises where he had choked me were hidden.
Then I slipped his mask on with shaking hands. It was so plain and simple, so much like so many other masks tonight. It should be easier to blend into the crowd. I yanked the pins out of my hair and slipped them into the coat pocket; no one ever saw me with my hair down.
Then I joined a crowd leaving the party, falling in behind the laughing party goers. I hung back from them just enough that they didn’t turn on me, but close enough that it looked like I was part of their group. My stomach roiled as two of his men walked past us, but neither of them stopped me.
We rode down in the elevator. I didn’t know any of them, thankfully; they might have recognized me in the closed space.
When the elevator doors pinged open, the lobby stretched ahead of me, glossy and bright. I walked quickly across, still staying with them. The second we went through the doors and I was out in the fresh air, I darted the other way. One of the men’s cell phones rang behind me, and as much as I tried to stay calm, my steps quickened. Joseph might already have realized I was missing and called out the dogs. Or maybe I was being paranoid.
I headed down a long, dark street, taking whatever turns I could, trying to put some space between me and the building. It didn’t matter if I were in an alleyway or on a broad city street. He could take me from anywhere, I knew that. My heart hammered in my chest.
I reached the metro station, but once I’d run down the concrete stairs and reached the tracks, I realized it had stopped running. Now I was panicked, trying to get back out of that empty cement space. Despite the towering ceilings, it felt too enclosed, too claustrophobic.
I ran up the stairs on the other side, my ankles wobbling in my high heels. When I looked back, I saw a man in the suit reach the bottom of the flight of stairs on the other side. His attention hadn’t come up yet to where I was. I crept away as silently as I could, a prickle running up my spine, and emerged onto an unfamiliar street.
There was a party at the museum across the way, even though it was after hours. Maybe I could hide in there, blend in, and get some time to think. I was so terrified that I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I managed to attach myself to another group of partygoers and found myself in the enormous eerie museum. Beyond the lobby, revel-goers celebrated between dinosaur skeletons.
I got into an elevator by myself and pressed a random button. I needed someplace quiet, someplace I could think.
Just as the elevator doors began to close, someone stuck their arm in.
I flattened myself against the wall behind me, too scared to even hiss in pain as my bruises met the wall through my thick wool coat.
The elevator doors opened.
The man who had just paused the doors adjusted his lapel with one hand as he stepped in. “Sorry to hold you up,” he said with a smile.
He was dressed in a suit perfectly tailored to his tall, muscular frame, with immaculately white cuffs. His dark hair was gelled back from a sharply handsome face, composed of hard angles of cheekbones and a defined jawline, softened only by lush, sensuous lips.
He glanced over me as he settled in, straightening his lapels. “Oh, you already pressed my button. What are you dressed as?”
“A wolf.” My voice came out steady, surprising me since my heart was still fluttering desperately in my chest. The vibe he gave off was warm and comfortable, despite his inhuman beauty. Too late, I remembered to fake normal. “What are you?”
“A vampire.” He flashed me a grin, revealing wickedly pointed canines. “I’m really just trying to annoy my brother. Micah’s hosting, and he loves a big, elaborate party. Lazy disguises offend his sensibilities.”
The elevator doors chimed open. He heaved a sigh as the party scene in front of us was laid out; we were on the floor of the ancients, and the floor was dimly lit, but music was playing. A handful of partygoers drifted among the statues.
“First time at one of Micah’s parties?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said softly.
“I’ve been at every one, since the beginning, but the shine wore off about a hundred years ago,” he said with a laugh. He held out the crook of his arm. “Come entertain me?”
A hundred years ago? For a guy who didn’t want to do an elaborate costume, he certainly liked to play the part. I bet he even had a whole backstory for his “vampire.”
Staying close to this man, pretending to be his date—it would help hide me if any of those men found me. Then maybe I could find a way to my next step. Once the metro was crowded in the morning, it would be easier to blend in.
The way he was smiling at me felt genuine and nice, even though it wasn’t my nature to trust anyone anymore. But my instincts said to stay close to him. Part of me screamed to walk away before he could be killed too, for being so nice and trusting and coming anywhere near me, but some selfish part won over. I’d just use him as cover and then be gone before anything bad could happen.
“Okay,” I said, managing to smile. I slipped my hand over his arm, which felt hard and corded through his fine suit. Stepping this close to him, a pleasant scent washed over me, cloves and cinnamon. He smelled like Christmas morning, and my nostrils flared, breathing him in more deeply. I wondered why he smelled so good.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Alexandra,” I said, because it was the first name that came to mind.
He pressed one hand to his broad chest. “Liam.”
He steered me into the party. Champagne was flowing, there was food spread on tables around us. Faces
turned toward us, but they were all a blur to me now. This was a mistake. This was too much like the place I’d just left, and panic was crowding my chest, leaving no room for my breath.
“Are you all right?” His voice was full of concern.
I tried to say yes, but couldn’t, so I just nodded.
He steered me into a side hallway that was more brightly lit. “Do you have panic attacks?” he asked gently.
“No,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” His voice was low and sexy but also soothing. “Well, the Egyptian wing is crowded, but I always think the Sumerian exhibit is more interesting anyway.”
We stopped at an exhibit of bowls and plates. I didn’t see anything interesting about them, but it’s hard to care about history when the present is a nightmare.
“Did you know that the Sumerians loved beer?” he asked. “My kind of people. I wonder if these plates sat on a table at a dull party, three thousand years ago.”
Something about the sound of his voice was so soothing that my heart stopped pounding quite so hard. I could hear myself think over the panicked rush of blood through my ears.
“Oh, so this party is dull, hm? And here you found me to entertain you. I must not be doing my job.” The teasing words came more easily to my lips than I would have imagined, then I was horrified at myself. I sounded so silly.
He rewarded me with a grin that crinkled the corners of his blue eyes. “Well, I think it’s a little early to assess how entertaining you are or not.”
“So far, you’re the one with the fun facts,” I said. “What else did the Sumerians enjoy at their boring parties?”
Wicked Souls: A Limited Edition Reverse Harem Romance Collection Page 15
