A Gift of Passion (Lover's Gift Book 1)

by Adom Sample

  I wasn’t going to waste time picking out something to wear, so I just threw on another pair of pajamas. I had to get the hell out of this house and away from him. I grabbed my things and cracked open the door to see where he was. The coast was clear. He was in the living room sitting on the couch with another bottle of vodka. My driver called and told me he was waiting outside. I snuck down the stairs slowly. I didn’t want Nathan to see me leave.

  As I crept down, one of my bags flew open, spilling my clothes all over the stairs. Damn it. Luckily, it didn’t make much noise. Nathan was still sitting on the couch taking gulps from the bottle. I gathered all my clothes and put them back into my bag. Once I’d finished, I headed down the stairs, but Nathan stood by the door, blocking me from leaving.

  “Get out of my way,” I demanded.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Look at my lip, Nathan. You did this!”

  He dropped to his knees and hugged my waist. “Don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I lost control, and I’m sorry. I’m just a little drunk. This will never happen again.”

  I threw his arms off me and stepped back for fear of what he might do next. That was when my phone rang. To my surprise, it was Dante.

  “Who is that?” Nathan hissed.

  “My business partner.” I canceled the call. I couldn’t answer the phone, as Nathan might have gone ballistic in his drunken state.

  “Nathan, please let me leave.”

  “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

  “I need to be away from you right now. You hit me. You’re a monster,” I said, trying to hold back tears.

  “You don’t know the meaning of the word monster.”

  “Move out of my way,” I bellowed again.

  “Have it your way then!” He opened the door and pushed me out of the house. I fell to the ground and landed on my ass. That bastard. His whole apology was an act. I got up and made my way to the car. Nathan slammed the door shut behind me.

  I never thought he would hit me, not in a million years. What were my clients going to say when they saw me with a busted lip and black eye? What was Maya going to say? I was shaking. I didn’t know what to do. I just had to go somewhere and think.

  My phone rang again, and it was Dante. I didn’t want to burden him with my problems and I wasn’t sure if I should answer it. But if I didn’t answer he might keep calling.

  “Hello?” I tried to hide the trauma in my voice.

  “Hello, Isabella? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “You sound like you’re crying. Is everything all right with you?”

  “Yes, everything is fine.”

  “I was just calling to see if you and Maya made it home safely. I trust my pilot took care of you both.”

  “Y-yes. He . . . he was great.” I didn’t know if he could sense something was wrong with me, but I dared not explain what I had just been through. This was my personal issue, and I didn’t want to involve someone I was doing business with.

  “So. H-how was your flight to London?” I tried to change the subject.

  “My flight was fine. I can tell by your stuttering that something is wrong. Did my pilot run into some turbulence on the way back?”

  “No, the flight was great.” I attempted to put cheer into my voice, but I failed.

  “You’re upset about what I said when we were in Korea, aren’t you? About me wanting you?” His voice was anxious.

  “No, Dante. That’s not it. It’s my husband.” I let the words slip from my tongue.

  “What about him?” Dante sounded pissed despite how much he tried to hide it.

  I sighed and shook my head. Dante was relentless in his questioning. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him. “What happened, Isabella? After our last conversation, I feel as if we can divulge anything to one another. Just get it off your chest. I’m here to listen.” I wanted to trust him. I needed someone to talk to.

  “He . . . h-he hit me,” I whispered into the phone. Dante grew silent for a good minute, despite my attempts at saying hello multiple times. I thought maybe we had lost the connection or that he had hung up, but I could still hear him breathing.

  “That fucking piece of shit! He’s done—” he said coldly.

  “Dante—”

  “I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have let you go back to that house. Go to a hotel and wait there until I get back,” he commanded.

  “You want me to stay in a hotel for two weeks?”

  “I’m on my way back right now. To hell with that damned software company.”

  “Dante, please. You can’t just cancel your business deals for my personal problems. You should—”

  “I’m on my way back, Isabella. Don’t try to talk me out of it. The only thing I care about right now is you,” he confessed. I held the phone close to my ear as tears rolled down my face.

  “Are you sure about this?” My voice trembled.

  “I’ve never been so damn sure about anything in my life. I’ll bring some bodyguards with me—to keep me from killing him.” The rage underneath his soft demeanor was apparent. This was the first time I had ever found Dante to be noticeably upset.

  He didn’t have to do this, but he insisted. There was no talking him out of it. I was going to feel incredibly guilty if he lost that software company because of my personal problems. Although, I couldn’t help but wonder why he would risk losing an investment just for me. I had only known him for a couple of months, but he had always been there when I needed him.

  “How badly are you hurt, Isabella?”

  I wiped my face. “My lip is busted and I have a black eye. I didn’t stay in that house long enough to assess the rest of my body. But my chest hurts.” I could hear his teeth grinding through the phone.

  “I’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Text me the address to the hotel you’re going to check into. And I want you to promise me something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Promise me you will not go back home if he’s there. Don’t talk to him. Don’t meet with him. Can you promise me that?”

  “I-I promise, Dante.”

  He sighed in relief. “Thank you, Isabella. Please be safe until I get there. If you need anything between then and now, just call me. I’m here for you.” I wanted to be wrapped in his arms right then. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until you’ve calmed a little?” he asked.

  “No. I’m fine. I’ve disrupted you long enough.”

  “Isabella—” he said firmly.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t ever think you’re disrupting me. Ever. All right?” His voice was strong. I’d never seen this side of him before . . . But I liked it.

  “Okay.” I sniffed back tears.

  “All right. Well, I’ll let you go. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything.”

  A small grin appeared on my face. I was glad I’d answered the phone. I’d needed someone at that moment. I was just glad it was him. “Okay, Dante. And thank you.” We both hung up and I gazed out the window. It began to rain. A manifestation of the turmoil in my heart perhaps. I tried to hide my face from the driver as I nursed my busted lip. I just hoped the swelling went down before I saw Dante, or anyone for that matter.

  Chapter 23

  Dante

  “Calm down, Dante. He’s not worth your anger,” Gaspard said.

  “He’s worthy of my hands around his fucking throat,” I growled. We boarded the jet, and my attendant took our bags. Despite Gaspard’s attempts at calming me down, nothing availed. I hoped this flight back would soothe my rage by the time we reached California. I was flushed with fury and my hands were shaking. The details of what Isabella went through accentuated my nerves with an abhorred image, forcing me to be by her side as quickly as I could.

  Regret and self-doubt clouded my thoughts, turning my quiet bearing into something I thought I’d never have to reveal again. These emotions raced through me, churning my hot
blood like lava. I could have saved her from this. If I had just shown how deeply I cared for her, there would have been no need for her to return home to that savage.

  Against the wishes of Gaspard and many of my closest advisors, I was determined to leave for home. After that night in Seoul when I embraced her, felt her, smelled her, and took in essences of her exquisiteness, I couldn’t fathom the thought of another man touching her. Least of all her abusive shit-for-brains husband.

  My love grew much more intense, and I knew I must talk her into leaving her house, not only for my selfish jealousy, but also so she would be safe from her husband. As I stared into space, the jet beginning its ascent, all I could do was imagine all the different ways I could get rid of his body. I had come up with three different scenarios before Gaspard walked up to me and splashed cold water on my face.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted.

  “You need to calm down, Dante. As far as I know from what you’ve told me, Isabella is beginning to fall for you. If that’s true, then it will only be a matter of time before she leaves him, giving you the chance to claim her heart,” said Gaspard, handing me a handkerchief.

  “That’s not the point, Gaspard.” I wiped the water from my face and tie.

  “What is the point? I don’t want you doing something you may regret.”

  “The point is that he could have raped her. What if he had raped her and gotten her pregnant? What if he had beat her into a coma? She would have been lost to me forever.”

  “That didn’t happen, so just calm down. The last time I checked, you hadn’t slept since we left Korea. Why don’t you take a nap or something? You’re tired. You’ll feel better once you’ve slept. You can’t survive on coffee and zero sleep,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. I removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt.

  “You didn’t have to splash water on me.”

  “If you didn’t have a murderous look in your eye a moment ago, you’d still be dry.” We looked at each other for a second before laughing. He patted my shoulder as I left for the rear, where a soft bed awaited me. I took off my shirt and closed the door behind me. I flopped on the bed and stuffed a pillow under my head. For Isabella’s safety, I vowed never to let this happen again. She would never have to endure pain like this. I swore it.

  Chapter 24

  Isabella

  “Damn it, Isabella, I told you this would happen. That man is a freaking scumbag! You should press charges immediately,” Maya shouted over the phone.

  I continued to nurse my black eye. In the beginning, I’d tried to hold off on telling her anything. The last thing I wanted to hear was I told you so, but those were the first words that flew out of her mouth. With every detail I revealed to her, an I told you so followed. I knew I shouldn’t have called her, but there wasn’t anyone else I could confide in. Dante was on his way back to the US on my account, and I didn’t want to trouble him any more than I already had.

  Maya demanded to know which hotel I was staying in after I told her what happened. If she saw the bruises on my body and face, she might flip out. She was begging me to file a police report and get a restraining order against him. I just needed some time away from him. And he needed a little time to cool down and sober up.

  After her endless nagging, I gave her the address to my hotel just to prove to her that he didn’t hit me all that much. She didn’t believe me and wanted to see it with her own eyes. I had yet to tell her Dante was also on his way here, so I guessed I would let her know when she got to the hotel. It seemed as if these two really cared about my well-being. I hoped Oliver didn’t mind postponing our meeting tomorrow. I needed to work things out here before anything else, and I also needed time to heal.

  When I thought back to why this even happened, the only thing I could reflect on was that all my business trips were upsetting him so much that he got drunk and took his anger out on me. I supposed I could talk it over with Maya when she got here. My brain was scattered, and I wasn’t sure what I should do. I was still shaken by the fact that he hit me. I just couldn’t believe it. As I went over to the sink to wash my face, my doorknob wobbled from a heavy-handed thump.

  I opened the door, and without saying a word, Maya rushed into my room, taking hold of me. She moved my hair away from my neck and pulled my blouse off my chest and shoulders, looking for bruises.

  No matter how many times I told her I was all right, she refused to take my word for it and continued to search. With her hands all over my body, I wondered if she was planning to give me a cavity search right there. She noticed the bruises on my lip and eye and gasped.

  “I can’t believe that fucking asshole did this to you.”

  “He was drunk, Maya. He was just a little upset.”

  “Are you out of your damn mind? A little upset is when a man gives you the silent treatment. Beating you black and blue is well beyond the realm of a little upset. You should have him arrested. Call the police, right now,” she exclaimed before handing me her cell phone.

  I stepped back from her and went into the bathroom. “I don’t want to involve the police.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not in your right mind, Isabella. How could you allow him to do this to you?” She looked worried for me, and I could understand why.

  “It was only this once, Maya. I’m sure he’ll never do it again. He was just drunk, and he’s been under a lot of pressure with me being gone so much.”

  “Him . . . under pressure? Are you kidding me right now?” she asked with a baffled look. She seemed more fearful than I was.

  “I promise you, Maya, I’m all right,” I said, trying to calm her. She sat on the bed and pulled out some tissue from her purse to wipe away her tears. This really must have affected her because I never thought she would get this emotional over a little fight my husband and I had.

  “He didn’t hit me that much. He just screamed at me and wanted to have sex, but I said no. When I said no, he stopped.”

  “He didn’t hit you that much? Isabella, you have a black eye and a cut lip!”

  “When I ran up the stairs to pack a bag, I tripped and fell on one of the steps.”

  “You tripped and fell,” she said sarcastically.

  “Yeah. He just wanted to have sex, and I refused. It was only this once.”

  “The fact that he forced himself on you is unacceptable, Isabella. The fact that he put his hands on you is unacceptable. How many times did you have to say no before he stopped?”

  I fell silent, knowing if I told her what really happened, she would overreact. “Just once,” I said with my eyes down.

  “Isabella, look me in the face and tell me the truth. I can tell when you’re lying,” she said sternly.

  “All right, I told him to stop multiple times. It wasn’t until I started hitting him on the head that he slapped and punched me in the face. It looked like he was enjoying hitting me because after I had begun kicking and screaming, he started laughing. He also mentioned something about a pain room.”

  Maya balled up her fists and stood from the bed. “A pain room?”

  “Yes,” I said nervously.

  She put her head down and sighed. I could tell by her demeanor another one of her I told you so’s was coming. She sat back down and put her face in the palms of her hands. I couldn’t do anything but stand and look at her, waiting for her to say something.

  “Isabella . . .” she said in an exhausted voice.

  “Yes, Maya,” I answered. She continued to sit there, covering her face with her hands, saying my name over and over again as if she could foretell what I was going to say.

  “You have to leave him. Do you understand me, Isabella? You have to! Don’t ever get into the habit of making excuses for his behavior or lying about what he’s done to you. That’s how women end up dead.”

  I was taken aback. “He’s my husband, Maya. I can’t just leave him. He was drunk—we all make mistakes.”

  “We all make excuses, too, and here you are making
excuses for him once again. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. I love you, girl. You have to leave this unhealthy marriage before it’s too late.”

  I could see the sorrow in her eyes. I’d never known she was in an unhealthy relationship before; that had never come up during our lunch breaks or our evenings out. I guessed we all kept our secrets.

  “What unhealthy relationship were you in?” I asked.

  “Nothing . . . Never mind.”

  “Oh, no. You opened this door. Now you’re going to have to walk through it. What happened to you?”

  “I thought we were supposed to be talking about you and your problems.”

  “We already did. Now tell me about your relationship. What happened?” I asked more forcefully. Her reluctance was evident when she put her things back into her purse and tried to leave. I blocked the door and held my arms out, forcing her back into the room.

  “Isabella, come on now,” she said, trying to push me out of the way. I grabbed her purse and ran out to the balcony, then dangled it over the edge.

  “I’ll drop it if you don’t sit back down and tell me what happened,” I threatened.

  “All right! Just give me back my purse,” she pleaded. I threw her purse onto the bed after she took a seat on the floor near the television. I sat on the bed and guarded her purse just in case she decided to make a break for it.

  “We tell each other everything. You can tell me what happened. No judgment will come from me, and you know that.”

  She tucked her legs into her chest and faced me. “Fine. It was two years ago. I met this guy at a bar downtown. We were together for about eighteen months. In the beginning, he was so kind, sweet, and gentle. I was falling in love with him. He could talk. I mean, this man was such a smooth talker. I melted like butter whenever he’d whisper in my ear. Every time I saw his face, my heart would beat fast, and I would revert to acting like a love-struck teenager. It wasn’t until about five months into our relationship that I started to see the signs he was a narcissistic bully, serial cheater, and sadist. He’d begin to accuse me of cheating, and he demanded the passwords to my phone and computer and the keys to my apartment. I was so in love with him. I gave them all up willingly, without argument.