Page 74 of Bed of Thorns

A vacation home.

A boat.

He’d mentioned so many possessions that I’d been taken aback by how much those items seemed to impress him. We’d been happy in the short period of time living in a small space, sharing our hopes and joy, basking in the limited time we could share together. Just taking a walk on the beach.

A glass of wine.

Staring at the moonlight.

Homemade dinners at sunset.

There’d been no televisions, no fabulous theater systems. Just music.

And passion.

Now he wanted so much more that my head was spinning. As I sat in the back of a limousine, the dress Edmond had insisted on purchasing costing more than three months of rent in Maine, I couldn’t get the horrible nagging sensations out of my mind.

This was pure evil.

There was nothing else to call what was happening.

I’d never met Carl Walters, hadn’t heard his full name until the day before. Edmond had never highlighted his accolades—and there had been several—or provided any names. Period. However excited he seemed, there was an uncertain, unknown look in his eyes.

Fear.

Apprehension.

Justification.

I wasn’t certain which was the predominating emotion. Right now, he was quiet, so much so that I wouldn’t have known he was sitting only a few inches away from me if he hadn’t placed his hand on top of mine. He was aimlessly brushing the tip of his finger back and forth across my skin, staring out the side window, his chest rising and falling evenly.

But he was as tense as I’d ever seen him.

I’d wanted to beg him not to accept the new position, but I knew in my heart that one day he’d come to blame me for tossing away everything he’d wanted.

For us.

How many times had he reminded me that everything he was trying to accomplish was for us and our future? The ride had been complete with champagne and chocolates, everything terribly expensive, just another reminder that the life Edmond had been lured into was all about money.

When would greed take over? When would the power of money become more intensely necessary than the passion we shared?

And when would he resent having me in his life?

A lump formed in my throat, a single tear in my left eye. I quickly wiped it away, fearful of ruining his special night. Yet I remained sick inside, incapable of finding anything festive about the evening ahead.

I only hoped I could endure the few hours without launching into one or more of them.

I pressed my hand against the beautiful satiny material, the waning sun giving the vivid scarlet a luminescent sparkle. The dress was exquisite, so captivatingly beautiful that I imagined Cinderella would have chosen this one for the night she met her Prince Charming.

Only I wasn’t a fairytale princess, and our life was anything but a fantasy.

“You look incredible,” he breathed as the driver made a turn into a long driveway.

“Thank you. You’re very handsome as well.” He was stunning, more handsome than I could dream up for the cover of a magazine. He looked fantastic in his tailored suits but in black tie, he was the epitome of the perfect, sophisticated, dangerous man. Sadly, I heard no inflection in my tone, no emotion whatsoever.

He squeezed my hand and shifted toward me, lifting my chin with a single finger. “I know you’re anxious and I don’t blame you. It’s one night. Then we can go back to our lives.”

“Can we, Edmond? Can we really? How much more time will they expect, days away from our happy little life? What else will they require from you?”Blood? Your firstborn?I almost said those things but stopped short for fear of ruining his night. He deserved this after all the hard work he’d put in. I just…

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