Page 10 of Scorch

Was that a threat?

I stare at him, my jaw slack.

The candle flickers between us. Beckoning.

“Look,” I say in a low voice so as not to draw the attention of everyone around us. “I don’t know what happened to you to cause you to behave this way, but I’ve had a few drinks and I need to use the bathroom. I’m going to just take a little break, and when I return, let’s have a civilized conversation, shall we?”

It's hard to issue an ultimatum to a man who has more power in his left thumb than I do in my entire life, but I’m over this.

I stand, but he grabs my wrist again, even harder than before.

“Sit down, Lydia.” When I don’t, he gentles his voice. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day at work. Sit down and tell me about your day.”

He almost convinced me. There’s something about that suave, persuasive voice of his that almost convinced me it was only a slip-up and my real fiancé was going to come back. But I need a little bit of a breather.

I jerk my wrist away from him, getting the attention of several people nearby.

“I’m just using the restroom,” I say. “Please let me go.”

He reaches for me, but a waiter comes by, so to save face, he plasters a smile on his face. For once, I’m happy he’s always more concerned with appearances than anything else. “Go. Come right back.”

A crowd of women passes in front of me. I take the opportunity to step right into the middle of them and head to the bathroom before he can pull me back.

What’s happened, and why is he behaving this way?

I feel sick to my stomach and wish, not for the first time, I had someone to confide in. I wish my sister and I were still close like we were when we were children, but now that she’s married into the Romanov family, that’s impossible. Timur has forbidden it.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror and take a deep breath.

He’s obviously in a bad mood, but he’s never been like this before.

I dab at my lips with lip gloss, trying to quell my rising nerves.

I reach for my phone, wishing again I could call Vera. I have no friends, and my mother and I were never close.

It doesn’t matter. So he was… what, impatient? Crass? A man’s entitled to the occasional bad temper, isn’t he? I’m certainly not a ball of sunshine every waking hour.

Up until now, he’s always treated me well.

Maybe I just have unrealistic expectations. It’s a fluke—a bad night.

It will be fine. I’ll go back out, and my charming fiancé will order dinner for me, and we’ll forget this ever happened. I’m starving. Maybe I’m exaggerating things in my mind.

I tap the screen and stare at five missed calls and as many missed texts.

What the hell?

My blood runs cold.

Vera: Lydia, you are in danger. Come home. I’m sending a car for you now. You have to leave. Please. I’ll explain everything.

Come home? I’m two hours away from home.

I’m in danger? I look around the spacious, luxury bathroom. It’s well-lit with marble flooring that gleams under soft, ambient overhead lighting. The walls are adorned with large, oval-shaped mirrors in gilded frames. The polished countertops boast bouquets of fresh flowers. It seems too elegant, too refined, for me to be here and in… danger.

Still, I walk to the stall and open it, sliding the lock in place behind me. I open my purse and eye the lighter and pepper spray I always carry with me. I have some measure of protection, anyway.

I check the rest of my messages.

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