Page 65 of The Brutal Arrangement

After Damon was so tender and sweet, saying he had trust issues but wanted to learn more about me, I took it as a sign that he didn’t only want me for sex.

So soon after seeing and envying Maxim and Sloane together as a couple in love, I was over-eager to make something more than unattached sex work between me and my husband. It felt wrong to want more with him when I had entered this sham of a marriage with the intention to divorce him.

But I was losing sight of when that would be. I’d been here almost a month now, and nothing had happened. No word of Anton Kozlov being furious. No correspondence from Katerina about her finding whatever she needed to search for.

I’d powered on my phone to check whether she’d tried to contact me. That was all I did. Every other day, I’d turn it on and see if there was anything from her.

There wasn’t.

But this morning, I saw that the facility had contacted me so I called back, only to receive the news that no bills had been paid at all.

“Don’t lie to me, Lucy,” Damon warned again, almost as if he couldn’t hear what I’d told him. Maybe he was so jaded and skeptical that he’d be selectively deaf to the truth and want to stick with assuming the worst of me, but Iwastelling him the truth.

“I’m not.” A spark of anger lit me, and I fought harder to get free from his grasp. I didn’t need him getting in my face, not now. I didn’t want to sit through his accusations that I had to be lying to him. I was floundering and flailing, ungrounded and shocked about my mother losing her place and being shipped off to a lousy alternative.

Katerina had lied to me.

Shewas a liar.

I was honest, as honest as I could’ve been these weeks I had been waiting here for word to divorce.

Fury burned hotter and faster, making me understand the total experience of being consumed with rage.

“Stop,” Damon ordered.

I growled, clenching my teeth like an animal because that was what I felt like. Trapped. Cornered. Caught. Abused. I did the opposite, straining to break free from him when I had no chance of escaping. He was bigger. Stronger. And I’d never win against a brute like him. He had more muscles, more height, hell, he had more knowledge of how to be in combat and hold someone still.

I was nothing and no one. Just an idiot who Katerina wanted to deceive and lie to so she could get what she wanted.

Tears spilled so scalding hot over my cheeks, but I couldn’t stem the flow. I couldn’t slow down or calm myself to know whether I was crying out of sadness for my mother or if these were angry tears I couldn’t hold back with how livid I was about this situation.

I hated that my mother had to suffer and lose her mind and memories. It was a cruel disease to watch and Ihatedit.

I loathed that Katerina had conned me into this marriage agreement so she could skip free and not even see to her end of the bargain of covering my mom’s bills.

And I scorned my husband for not letting me go so I could vent and absorb this shitty news. The last thing I needed was for him to accuse me of lying. I had no patience, no willpower, to handle him on that topic. Not now. Not ever.

He had other ideas, though. He wasn’t releasing me at all, his hands locked on my robe and his arms rigid as he kept me close. Scowling down at me, he clearly wanted to intimidate me and remind me that he was the boss, that he was in charge, and that I had no control here.

I was so worked up that I couldn’t give a damn. I couldn’t begin to think about having any control. I had none. I’d never had any damn power in anything, just stuck taking all the hits life would throw me. I had zero control over the bad things happening in my life, and I wanted to break away from his hold to curl into a ball and wait for the shock of this to sink in.

“I know what I saw. What I heard. You were sneaking around, talking to someone. I warned you not to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!” I screamed it in his face, feeling my skin so warm and flushed from the exertion of screaming.

I’dneverraised my voice like that. Not to him. Not to anyone else. It wasn’t my style, but fuck style. Screw being good and obedient.

Maybe he’d kill me for talking back.

Fine. If that was the way I’d go, whatever.

That, too, wasn’t under my control.

My husband threatened to kill me the day after we were married.

Perhaps this was the final straw for him.

Even knowing that, I couldn’t hold back and suck in this spewing energy to explode in some way.

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