Perfect

by Delaney Diamond

  Cyrus felt good about the solution he’d come up with. Still in deep thought about the alleged thefts, he crossed the room, intent on picking up the spilled items from Daniella’s purse, when he pulled up short.

  Nestled among the usual items of a pack of mints, a cell phone, makeup and a comb, was a small, pink, plastic container.

  He hesitated, dread souring his stomach. He recognized the pack for what it was.

  Daniella was taking birth control.

  He tossed all the items back into her purse and took the pills over to a high-backed chair. Seated on the plush upholstery, he flicked open the container to see half the pills were gone. He fell back in the chair. The shaft of pain that hit his chest couldn’t have been more devastating if someone had kicked him in the sternum.

  He thought they’d been trying to get pregnant, but she had been on The Pill all along. Lying to him. Deceiving him.

  He heard the shower running, but he no longer had any desire to join her. Was she humming? Cold calm came over him and froze his heart. He stayed that way, clutching the contraceptive in his hand, in an almost catatonic state until she exited the bathroom.

  She stepped out, wrapped in a large white towel and smelling sweet and fresh. She’d already removed the shower cap, but damp tendrils curled around her face where water had managed to get past the plastic barrier.

  “I have an idea,” she said, walking over to him, hands on her hips. “I liked where we ate last night, but how about we stay here and order in tonight? What do you think?”

  He assessed her smiling face. A fake smile. His chest burned, and his fingers tightened around the plastic container in his hand. He stood. She finally paid attention and noted he wasn’t in as good a mood as he had been earlier.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He opened his hand and thrust the container toward her. “What is this?” he asked.

  Lines of confusion creased her forehead. “Where did you—”

  “What is this?” he asked again. The anger was building. He moved toward her.

  She stepped back, away from him and closer to the open bathroom door. “I can explain,” she said in a small voice.

  “What. Is. This?” The words left his mouth as a vicious snarl, a sound coming from his voice box he’d never heard before. He didn’t know what she saw in his face, but panic flared in her eyes and she bolted for the bathroom. He followed, but she slammed the door and he heard the lock twist into place.

  “Open the door and face me,” he said. He pounded twice with his fist, needing to hit something. Needing to break something.

  “Cyrus, you need to calm down,” she said, her voice quivering. “You’re not thinking straight.”

  “Open the door and get out here, Dani. Open this goddamn door now or so help me I’ll break it down!”

  Her non-response only infuriated him more. Still clutching the pills, the smooth edge of the container cutting into his clenched fingers, he lifted his foot and slammed the heel of his shoe into the wood below the doorknob. The frame splintered and broke apart, and the door swung open and crashed against the inside wall.

  Daniella stood in the middle of the opulent bathroom, staring at him with widened eyes. She backed up, hovering in the corner between the counter and shower stall. She thought he’d hurt her, and he wanted to. He’d never experienced this level of anger before. This level of disappointment. This level of pain.

  “Get out here,” he said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Daniella couldn’t say for sure Cyrus wouldn’t hurt her. Before tonight, if she’d been asked, she would have given a definitive “no.” But the look in his eyes made her confidence waver. She’d never seen such furor, and her heart beat fast in preparation to act quickly.

  “No,” she said, refusing to leave the bathroom as he’d insisted.

  He walked toward her, and she frantically searched for a weapon against him, but all she saw were lotions, a comb, and a brush. All ineffective. She was completely vulnerable against him. He was bigger, stronger, and with the violent emotions coursing through him, much more dangerous.

  Cyrus thrust the pills in her face, and she flinched from the sudden movement.

  “Tell me you’re not taking these,” he said.

  “I…I had been, but not anymore.”

  “You had been?” he seethed. He grabbed her by the arm, his fingers as tight as clamps. He brought his face closer to hers. “When exactly did you stop?”

  She swallowed. “A few days ago. I swear.”

  “Really?” He laughed, a mirthless, hollow sound of disbelief. “Isn’t that convenient.”

  “It’s the truth. I stopped taking them because we’ve been getting along and we’re so much closer. I didn’t see the point anymore.”

  “So you deceived me,” he growled. “You led me to believe you wanted to start a family, when all along you were on The Pill—giving me your body and lying to me with your lips.”

  “I needed a little time to…to get used to the idea, that’s all. I didn’t want to bring a baby into this marriage if we weren’t going to stay together. You wouldn’t give me a choice, so I…I did something I shouldn’t have. I admit it, but I’ve changed, Cyrus, I swear. Please, you have to believe me.” Her entreaty fell from lips that trembled with the fear that all was lost.

  His eyes glinted down at her, as cold and hard as marbles. “You made a fool out of me. You, the one person…I trusted you.”

  He still hadn’t let her go, and she didn’t dare try to tug away. “You can trust me. I just made a mistake.”

  “No, Dani. I was the one who made the mistake of thinking I could trust you to keep your word.” He let her go and tore the foil piece containing the pills from the packet. He ripped it into four pieces. He tossed the fragments into the toilet and flushed.

  He looked at her, and she waited for him to speak, unable to read his expression because she’d never seen such a look on his face. Her heart was racing, and her arm had gone numb where he’d gripped her. She was numb.

  “Cyrus…” she said, breaking the silence. She ached to reach for him, but the look of disgust on his face held her back.

  “You win,” he said.

  She shook her head vehemently. “I wasn’t trying to win anything. I don’t want to win.”

  He walked out and she followed.

  “Where are you going?” He kept walking, and she kept following. Out the door and down the staircase. “Answer me. Where are you going? What are you doing? Don’t leave. Let’s talk about this. Please.”

  Her voice broke at the end, and a braid of fear knotted in her stomach.

  “Cyrus, please. Don’t go.”

  He ignored her and slammed the door on his way out. She hurried to the window in time to see the motion lights come on. He couldn’t get far on foot in the dark. Clearly he just needed to walk off his anger.

  She pressed her palms and face to the cool glass. For the most part, he looked the same, but there was one notable difference. His shoulders, normally straight and square, were no longer so.

  She closed her eyes and came to the sudden realization of what the unfamiliar expression on his face had been.

  Pain.

  And she was the cause of it.

  ****

  Daniella waited for him into the late hours of the night, but Cyrus didn’t return, and when she called his phone, he didn’t answer. Restlessly, she channel-surfed, seeking distractions that failed to get her mind from the problem at hand. Every sound had her hitting mute on the remote and sitting upright in bed, ears cocked for the sound of his footsteps. But each time it was a false alarm.

  Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, she was awakened suddenly by his presence in the room. He stood beside the bed, looking down at her. His silence unnerved her.

  She sat up. “I know I shouldn’t have taken the pills,” she started in a rush to explain, “but I changed my mind. I swear to you, I’m not taking them anymore. I want a baby with you. I wa
nt a family, like you do.”

  “Do you?” he asked. He sounded as if he didn’t believe her.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe a word coming out of that beautiful mouth of yours.”

  When he yanked the covers off her body, it was completely unexpected. Her underwear was disposed of quickly, dragged down her legs and tossed aside. He fell on top of her, his mouth fastening onto one covered nipple. The suction of his lips made her pulse between her legs. His teeth raked her cheek, neck, and jawline. He wasn’t gentle, but his rough touch didn’t keep her from getting aroused.

  “Cyrus,” she whispered. She ran a hand across his broad back and up to his neck. She turned her head, seeking his mouth, but he twisted away from her.

  The unforeseen rejection cut deep, and she felt the pain of it dart through her chest.

  He fumbled with his belt, and she lifted her mouth to his again, but again he refused her.

  “No,” she said in a broken whisper. Desperate, panicked, she grasped his head in hands and achieved a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he once again denied her the affection.

  “No, no.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Cyrus.”

  They wrestled, she trying in vain to plant a kiss on his mouth, he adeptly avoiding it by pinning her beneath him. She couldn’t break free.

  She writhed beneath him, refusing to give up. He had to kiss her. He loved kissing her. He’d said so himself.

  He forced her onto her stomach and she gasped at the abrupt movement. He pushed her nightgown halfway up her back to expose her bare bottom.

  Her throat and eyes filled with tears. “Don’t treat me like this,” she choked out. She couldn’t be sure he understood because the pillow muffled her words.

  She wished he was drunk. At least then she could blame his behavior on the alcohol. But he was sober and knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Cyrus, please,” she begged.

  She heard the slide of his zipper and a low grunt as he pulled free of his boxers. She twisted again, struggling against the weight of him on her back. In response, he circled both of her wrists in one hand. His fingers were like steel manacles she couldn’t break free of. He kept her pinned down.

  “Don’t treat me like this,” she cried again. The tears flowed freely now. He paused. Whether it was the tears or he finally understood the words, she didn’t know. She had his attention. “I’m your wife. I want you to kiss me. Kiss me.”

  He lowered his lips to her right ear. “You are not my wife.” The crushing words were a slap in the face. They were brutal. A way to let her know how little she meant to him now.

  He slid between the folds of her sex. Slick with want, her body swallowed his wide girth. With one hand clasping her hip and the other holding her wrists together, he pushed all the way in, his hard chest bearing down on her back. Wet and trembling beneath him, she bit her lip and thrust back, arching and clenching her lower muscles to increase the friction and pleasure for them both.

  Cyrus increased his speed, his breathing growing shallow.

  Her own breaths left her lips in choppy, broken huffs. The tender flesh between her legs opened for deeper penetration, her body not knowing the difference between cold indifference and warm possession, knowing only it was him who touched and filled her to capacity.

  Behind her, Cyrus grunted. He was about to come, and he wasn’t waiting for her. He’d always seen to her satisfaction first, but not this time.

  “Here’s another way for us to keep you from suffering through the distasteful burden of having to carry my child,” he said. “One you enjoy.”

  With that, he pulled out, and warm liquid spilled onto her ass. How many times had they done the same thing? Only this time it was different.

  Their idyllic vacation, their do-over, was no more. It was over. Her chest contracted painfully tight at the extent of her loss. Still she couldn’t let go, couldn’t accept it was the end.

  Say my name. Please. He always said her name.

  Nothing. No more words came from him.

  His heavy breathing subsided, and he rested his forehead between her shoulder blades. It was oddly comforting, as if he still wanted to be close to her. At least that’s what she chose to believe.

  “Cyrus…?” He didn’t respond, and what could she say? How could she explain her fears? Her perfectly legitimate reasons for doing what she’d done? He wouldn’t believe her anyway.

  “Was any of it real?” he asked hoarsely.

  Fresh tears burned her eyes. “Yes,” she responded in a thick voice.

  Whether he heard her or not, she couldn’t tell. One second he was behind her, the next he rose from the bed and walked out. She remained in the same position, her wrists crossed and locked together, as if he still held her captive.

  The tears came down like a torrential rain. They flowed from her eyes, soaking her cheeks, soaking the pillow. She cried until her eyes were swollen almost shut, and even then she didn’t stop.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daniella slept badly. In fact, she didn’t sleep much at all. Difficult to do, despite the long day and the exhaustive tears she’d cried. She woke up constantly, reliving the nightmare of her night with Cyrus.

  Not normally a light sleeper, every sound jerked her awake. One time she thought she heard his footsteps as he entered the bedroom. Then she thought she heard the door open and close. She thought the mattress depressed with the weight of his body as he joined her in bed. Over and over again she would startle awake and then drift into a troubled sleep, only to be awakened again minutes later by more wishful thinking.

  The rays of the sun finally forced her from the confines of the bed. She’d much rather stay there, but she had to be up and alert for when he returned. In the bathroom, she stared at her image, appalled at her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were red and swollen from her constant crying. She fixed her hair but only time could make her face more presentable. She did what she could with makeup.

  She didn’t leave the house, worried he would come while she was out, so her breakfast was half of a banana because in all honesty she couldn’t eat anything more. The minutes dragged by as she waited for him to return or call.

  By mid-afternoon she began to worry and called his phone, but there was no answer. They had to talk. She needed to explain. She called five times but he never once picked up. The pain in her chest swelled to an even greater size and she broke down into tears again. Where could he be?

  That question was answered when his assistant, Shaun, arrived. It was then she had to accept the gravity of the situation. Cyrus wasn’t coming back.

  Shaun looked rumpled but alert and ready to work. Cyrus must have called him overnight and told him to come. Downstairs in the entryway, with the sun streaming through the windows, it seemed unbelievable that her marriage had collapsed the night before. The day was bright and pretty—just another day in paradise.

  Shaun shoved his glasses up on his nose. Slender but muscular, he had the body of a long distance runner. “I’m here to help you get organized, packed, and back to the States when you’re ready,” he said. In the past, he’d been pleasant enough, and Daniella didn’t know if it was her guilty conscience, but now he seemed standoffish and his blue eyes filled with accusation.

  “Where is he?” she asked, uncaring about how Shaun felt about her, uncaring that having to ask such a question should have been embarrassing. She was past embarrassment.

  “I’m not sure.” His eyes lowered to the ever-present smartphone in his hand. “He told me—”

  “Where is he, Shaun?” She wasn’t in the mood for avoidance tactics. His allegiance may be to Cyrus, but she needed answers. Cyrus hadn’t answered his private phone, the one he always answered, and she knew he had it with him because she’d searched for it and found it missing among the possessions left at the house. “You know his schedule better than anyone else. He tells you everything.” There was a slight catch to her voice, and she could te
ll he heard it.

  “He’s in London,” he finally replied quietly. The look he sent her was a mixture of pity and contrition, as if having to deliver the bad news made him guilty in some way.

  Her heart sank. “What’s he doing in London?”

  “A business emergency came up and he had to fly out immediately.” He couldn’t even look her in the eye when he lied.

  Daniella tempered her tone. It wasn’t his fault. He was doing what he’d been told. “You and I both know there was no business emergency.”

  Shaun remained silent, shifting from his left foot to his right in a display of discomfort.

  “I want to go to London to see him.”

  “That’s not a good idea, ma’am. He’s working and made it clear what my responsibility was where you are concerned.”

  If she didn’t go with him, he might hog tie her and take her back anyway. Cyrus had given him a directive and he was clearly determined to carry it out.

  “So you’re here to take me back to Seattle?” Cyrus might be angry at her, but he still made sure she was well-taken care of.

  “Yes, ma’am. When would you like to leave?”

  “Tomorrow.” There was no reason for her to remain there. “When will he be back home?”

  “He’ll be in London for about a week.”

  Daniella sighed internally. There were probably legitimate reasons for him to be in London, but she knew urgent business hadn’t taken him there. Urgency to get away from her had.