With This Ring (To Have And To Hold Duet #1) - Natasha Knight Page 0,80
is racing and I’m shivering. He was so angry. But I never lied to him. There just wasn’t any way I could tell him.
Whore.
The word rings like an accusation. It’s not the first time I’ve been called one but this time, hearing it from him, it hurts.
He accused me of fucking Marcus Rinaldi. If I had, it wouldn’t have been consensual. Doesn’t he know that? I’m not a whore.
And I don’t know why I’m sitting here crying. I should be pissed. Offended.
Or relieved. He won’t touch me again. It’s what I wanted, isn’t it? We’re enemies now, truly. It’s what I told him I wanted.
I shiver with cold as the rain outside beats down on the house. I pull the blanket up around my shoulders and the wedding band drops to the tiled floor. It bounces once before coming to rest.
I feel sad. So fucking sad. I feel like I did at the house after he told me about his enemies and asked me to be his friend.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am just like my brothers. I should have told him when he assumed I was a virgin. I should have said something. But what? I couldn’t. I still wouldn’t.
I hear a car engine outside and go to the window. Two SUVs are driving too fast in this rain. He’s leaving? Just driving away?
I rub my face, shudder again, the cold settling deeper inside me.
He asked me to be his friend. His one friend. What about his brother or his uncle? Aren’t they at least his allies? Or are they enemies too?
I’m not paying attention as I walk back to the bed and wince when I step on a shard of glass from the whiskey bottle. It cuts into my foot, leaving a trace of red on the tile.
I balance on one leg to pull the glass out and drop it to the floor.
Gingerly, I walk into the bathroom and close the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I check to make sure I haven’t missed any more glass. When I sit, still feeling him inside me. Sticky between my legs from when he made me come.
I turn on the water, test the temperature, then plug the drain. I wish he hadn’t broken that bottle of whiskey. I’d have happily downed it now. Instead, I slip into the tub and listen to the sound of the water eat up the silence. And as the weight of what just happened settles alongside the cold in my belly, I shudder, adjusting the water temperature so on any other day, it would be too hot to stand.
It takes a long time to fill the tub. Not that it matters. It’s not like I have plans. Cristiano is gone. I’m sure he’s left a slew of soldiers to make sure I stay put. Not that it would take a slew.
He just needs to calm down and when he comes back, I’ll explain. I’ll make something up. A biking accident when I was little. Don’t girls lose their virginity that way? Or is that just an old wives’ tale? I can’t tell him the truth. I won’t. I will never tell him that truth.
I shake my head, reach to switch off the water. I lay my head back and let myself cry. I’m not even sure why I care. Why it bothers me even a little what he thinks of me. Because isn’t he my enemy? Isn’t that what I swore to him and to myself?
33
Cristiano
The stripper dancing on stage is a blur of movement because all I see is red.
Scarlett isn’t a virgin.
She’s supposed to be a virgin. And why the fuck this bothers me, I have no clue.
Tilting the bottle back I drink a swig of whiskey. It’s almost empty. I get up from my seat, but the moment I do, I feel hands on me.
I grip the back of the chair. Close my eyes in the hopes it’ll make the room stop spinning.
Someone’s talking and fuck, I’m drunk. I am so drunk.
“Jesus Christ,” a man says. I open my eyes only to find my uncle shoving his way toward me. “What the hell, Cristiano?” He gestures to two of my men following him.
“I told you to wait outside,” I tell them.
The soldiers stop. Look from me to my uncle.
I turn to my uncle. “Why are you here?”
“Get him in the car. This is embarrassing,” he instructs the two men as he attempts to take my whiskey away.