Page 97 of Seeking Vengeance

“Put me down.” I wiggle with his booming steps, only resulting in him tightening his hold around my waist. “Matthew, I’m serious. Put me down.”

“AndI’mfucking serious,” he growls. “You’re not leaving. I need you with me.”

I need you.

I. Need. You.

Each word slices at my skin, the unfamiliar sentiment tearing a sob from my scorched throat.

Nobody ever needs me. Not my family. Not my husband. Not even my daughter, who left for boarding school without a backward glance. The only person who ever claimed to need anything from me was my father, who used those words against me.

Matthew doesn’t stop his vicious pace until we reach an open suite door. I push against his back, moving high enough to see around his waist to the housekeeping trolley standing idle a few feet inside the darkened hall.

“Is someone in our room?” His question is a commanding boom.

“Oh,” a female replies, a scuffle of noise following. “Yes, sir. It’s housekeeping.” A petite brunette pokes her head around the corner, her face in flickering shadow. “I’m sorry, I haven’t finished preparing what was request—”

“We need privacy.” He storms forward, carrying me like a sack of potatoes.

I should fight. Run. Leave him to a life that would be less dramatic without me, but…I need you.

That declaration. That honesty.

God, I need him, too.

I need the assurance. The protection. The authority that quietens the screaming within.

“Please put me down.” I soften against him. “Please, Matthew.”

He trudges ahead, the scent of candle wax hitting my nose sweet seconds before we reach the open living area where he places me on my feet next to the sofa.

I pause in confusion, the sight not computing.

The housekeeper stands before the kitchenette, a silver wine bucket on the counter, a lighter in her hand. The room is emblazoned with dozens of flickering tea lights. The beauty steals my breath, the glow emanating from every horizontal surface.

Rose petals are scattered over the carpet, the sofa, the television stand.

Matthew requested this?

“It will only take me a moment to finish.” The woman’s gaze shifts between us. “The bathroom just needs—”

“Leave.” Matthew shoves a hand through his hair.

The woman winces, nods in apology, then rushes to a dark corner of the kitchen to retrieve a box of rattling candles. “The food you requested is already in the fridge. Again, I apologize.” She scampers for her trolley in the hall, the rattle of shampoo bottles and cleaning supplies filling the room before she pulls the door shut behind her.

Then, more silence.

Thick, painful quiet which contrasts with the beauty of the dancing flames around me. Hell consumes my thoughts, yet heaven fills my vision. The opposites add to my instability.

I need something to make sense.

Anything.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Matthew begins to pace, both hands raking into his hair, his fingers clawing against his scalp. “Maybe wine is best. Or food? Do you need something to eat?”

His questions are fast and emotionless. Spoken without thought or follow-through.

I watch him, noting the sweat beading his brow, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He’s spiraling. Descending into shock as he trudges back and forth along the carpet.

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