Page 31 of Conviction
I send Marcus a text telling him I’ll be down in a minute while I wait for Sophie to pull on some clothes and do whatever she needs to do in the bathroom. She doesn’t need to do a lot to look ready, her eyeliner is tattooed on, her eyelashes are extended, and her eyebrows are waxed, tinted and sculpted into a perfect arch. She looks like she’s made up her face to go and do battle with my husband without wearing any makeup at all.
“You okay?” she asks as we head down the stairs, toward the front door, toward Marcus.
“Surprisingly, yeah, I am.”
“Good.” She nods.
“Let’s go deal with the fucker.”
She opens the front door, and Duchess pulls me straight through it, and he’s there, leaning against the railings between the path and the road. He’s wearing jeans and a white Ralph Lauren Polo with the collar up. It’s a look I hate. Sophie told him once that all polo shirts should have ‘I look like a cunt’ embroidered underneath the collar, to try and stop men standing them up, but he took no notice, perhaps because he is a cunt. As if reading my mind, Soph whispers in my ear, “Whoop, whoop, cunt alert.” And despite how much it hurts, I can’t help but smile.
He lifts his mirrored aviators onto his head and steps toward me.
“Nina, baby, I’m so, so sorry.”
Sophie steps in front of me. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
“Stay out of this, Soph. It’s got fuck all to do with you. Why are you even here?” he asks, gritting his teeth as he speaks to her.
“Don’t talk to her like that. She’s here because I want her here. Sophie stays, or I go. Make up your mind,” I tell him.
We’re standing on the street, right outside one of our salons, in full view of my staff and clients. Without saying a word, I cross over the road and into the park opposite and onto the sectioned off area where I can let Duchess of her lead. Luckily, I brought a couple of carrier bags down with me because the first thing Duch does is take a crap.
“Charming,” I hear Marcus say from beside me. I look around for Sophie and find her sitting on a bench a few feet away.
“We all need to crap, Marcus, it’s a perfectly natural bodily function. What do you want anyway? Spit it out, I need to get back home and take a shower.”
“Nina, we need to talk. I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what happened.”
I turn and look at him. Straight into his pale blue eyes and feel… nothing, absolutely nothing. Not fear, not loathing. Nothing. He could be a stranger to me. With a steady voice that actually amazes me, I say, “You’re here saying sorry, and yet you claim that you’ve no idea what happened. If that’s the case, what is it you’re actually saying sorry for?”
He lets out a long sigh, or a huff or just a breath, I’m not sure which, and I don’t really care.
“I just know… I remember, things got a bit rough. I may have said some things—”
I hear a “Pfft, d’ya think arsehole? Like fuck you can’t remember,” from Sophie.
I turn and meet his gaze. “You called me a slut and a whore. You told me that you knew that I liked it rough and to take what you were gonna give me—”
He steps toward me shaking his head. “Nina, baby. I’m so sorry—”
I step back away from him and held my hand out, letting him know to stay back.
“You pulled my hair, and you squeezed my face and then when I fought back, when I tried to get away from you, youpunchedme in the face.” My lips tremble as I speak, but it’s anger that’s bringing on the tears. Anger at what he did to me, anger at the memory of how fucking helpless I felt last night. “You pinned me down and fucked me,” I tell him through gritted teeth. His mouth’s hanging open, his hand rakes through his hair and he shakes his head.
“No, no Nina. I wouldn’t, I would never—”
I tilt my head toward him so he can get a good look at me and his handy work.
“Look at my face, Marcus. Look at my fucking face,” I snarl at him. “I want you to stay away. Don’t call me, in fact, don’t contact me at all. I’ll be around in the next few days to collect my stuff. I’m moving out.”
“What? Wait, no. No, Nina. Fuck no. You’ve not even given me a chance to explain or say sorry.”
“I don’t care Marcus. I’m done! It’s over.”
He steps toward me again, I step away,again. Making the distance between us even further this time.
“Don’t come near me,” I warn.
