Page 46 of Steal Me (Rebel Hearts Heists 1)
God, what was fucking wrong with me? How had I landed myself in this cycle? The worst part? There was no common sense with him. I couldn’t communicate with him or attempt to talk to him about how I felt because he told me I was being ‘crazy’ and making a mountain out of a little grain of ash. That I had to grow up and stop doing the ‘typical woman thing’ of blowing up every little problem way out of proportion and expecting him to fix everything that was wrong in my life. Or he would ask me why I couldn’t be like the ‘other wives.’ Buddy, I wasn’t your wife yet …
The condo door flew open and my eyes shot up to find my fiancé tossing his bag on the ground and shrugging off his coat. I tried to gauge his mood before saying anything but I was having a hard time reading it from the space separating us in this massive, luxurious space.
“Hey, honey …” I called softly, his head snapping up to where I stood at the island.
His eyes flickered to my untouched glass of wine. “Are we day drinking now?”
Oh Christ. I swallowed.
“I was actually going to have a glass while making dinner for us.”
“Don’t bother, I am going to grab a drink with the guys from the branch,” he stated gruffly, walking toward our bedroom. I snapped the cookbook closed and clenched my jaw, feeling the frustration of this bullshit hitting me.
“Pierce!” I spoke loudly as he walked back in wearing jeans, a tight shirt, and boots. “This is every night now. I agreed that I wouldn’t work outside of school, I quit cheerleading, because I thought you would be home in the evenings. But lately I never see you.”
He walked over and I swallowed, feeling a bit unsteady. My school books were spread out on one side of the counter, my group project neatly organized from working on it in class. It was the only thing I needed to work on.
“You miss me?” He asked, his massive hand cupping my jaw as I leaned into it slightly.
“I would like to spend time together.”
His eyes flickered across my face before he looked down at my papers, his body going tense. His jaw clicked, tightening up so much that I feared that his teeth were going to shatter.
“Whose handwriting is this?”
“Someone from my group?” I offered, trying to sound casual but feeling a familiar pang of uneasiness begin to expand inside of me and my spine stiffen as I braced myself for his reaction.
His eyes flared as he gripped my arm.
“Who the fuck is in your group?”
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice and feigning a serenity that was far from the burning knot of anxiety that was gripping my stomach. I immediately regretted not kissing him goodbye and letting him go out for that beer.
“Like, three people, Stephanie, James …”
He shook me as I froze up, my body jostled against his. “Who the fuck is James, Sloane?”
“Just someone fro—”
“Are you fucking him?”
“What?” I inhaled sharply. “Of course I’m not fucking him.”
“Liar!” He spit out as I tried to stop the trembling spreading through me.
“Pierce stop,” I begged. “You’re acting insane.”
I didn’t expect the back handed smack that had me flying back into the kitchen wall. I let out a cry of pain as my head smashed into the plaster and I sunk, trying to catch my footing, and seeing black spots at the edges of my vision. He was bearing down on me and grabbing my jaw so hard that tears instantly formed in my eyes.
“If I find out that you talk or work with James or any other man in that class again, your parents are going to find themselves in trouble …” He bit out with a snarl.
The condo door slammed closed, leaving me with tears streaming down my face. This wasn’t the first time he’d made threats to my family but this was the most clear and direct threat. Before he’d always been subtle, so much so that I often doubted myself, thinking that I was imagining things. And he’d never, ever hit me before. Manhandled maybe, but the violence in him had always been repressed, controlled. I shivered at the idea of how he would be after a few drinks. Alcohol always made him more spiteful, more cruel. My head was pounding and I could feel the bruising that would form on my jaw. Realization hit me square in the chest.
I had to get the fuck out of here before he hurt me more. Before my family was hurt more. I stood up and began to gather my things.
This would end tonight.
“Sloane …” River whispers shaking me slightly so that consciousness returns. My wet lashes open and that dull throbbing cramp pain hits me, making me wince. I’m still tucked against River and his face is filled with concern.
