Page 39 of Hush Money

“I’d prefer for you to put on some clothes first.” Lucien’s face is pale in the relative darkness, his voice deathly calm now. “But you can’t stay here. Not after the stunt you just pulled.”

Wrong answer. Ravenna’s face contorts. “Is this what you want?”

Her shriek galvanizes the guards, who take a step closer. So do I. But Lucien waves us all back without ever looking away from Ravenna. He’s the picture of controlled calm. “You can leave on your own. One of the guards can drive you wherever you want to go. Or I can call the police. Your choice.”

Ravenna scoffs with what looks like genuine amusement. “Police? You don’t want the police here at your precious Ackerley. What would the neighbors say?”

“Don’t care,” he says. “What’s it going to be?”

“Hmm.” Her head turns in my direction. The next thing I know, she’s zoomed in on me with absolute, unblinking focus. Something about the way the shadows hit her face with only a glimmer of light on her eyes freezes me down to the marrow of my bones.

Something about her, I suddenly realize, is not right. I don’t know how I missed it before.

I hold my breath, waiting. I don’t need to see Lucien to sense his new stillness as well. I don’t know what I expect in that long moment as she watches me. Possibly more tears. Maybe a little hysteria. I suddenly remember a young couple that lived in our apartment building back in Bushwick. They had weekly epic fights that involved broken crockery, police runs and ultimately the husband’s arrest. Maybe Ravenna is prone to violence like that couple was. Maybe she’ll lunge for the nearest potted plant and aim it for my head. Or Lucien’s.

But Ravenna does none of that. She just stands there and envelops me in a chilling silence that’s infinitely scarier than anything else I can imagine.

Then she turns back to Lucien and smiles. Smiles. No teeth. No warmth. Pure malice. And the fleeting relief I felt to be released from the force field of her attention careens into stark fear. I’m betting a woman who smiles like that is capable of things I don’t want to think about.

“I’ll go to a hotel for the night, but you’re not going to divorce me, Lucien.” She sounds melodic now. Hypnotizing. If Hollywood calls looking for someone to play a siren in their latest summer blockbuster, this is the woman they need. “I’ll die first.”

The words hang in the air. No one moves a muscle.

“You and I are going to stop being married, Ravenna,” Lucien finally says, unblinking. Unsmiling. Absolutely uncompromising. “How that happens is up to you.”

I don’t know if that’s a threat or not, but the guards and I all gasp.

Not Ravenna. She laughs. I mean really laughs. I’m talking a genuine belly laugh that comes from the bottom of her soul. It’s throaty and unabashed, the worst sound I’ve ever heard. When the laugh ends, it’s not because it fades out so much as because she kills it in the middle, leaving nothing but that cold stare again. “My darling husband. I’m never letting you go. Don’t you know that by now?” She turns to me. “And you should know. Lucien and I are a package deal. It doesn’t matter if he throws me out. There’s no getting rid of me, little girl. I’m already inside your head, and we both know it.”

I do know it. I’ve known it since the day I met him. But fuck her.

“I think I’m inside your head, Ravenna,” I say, matching her poisonously sweet tone.

All those beautiful features twist into a gargoyle’s rage and she lunges toward me, but Lucien quickly steps between us, fists clenching at his sides. “Get. Out.”

She peels her attention away from me and faces him again. Their negativity toward each other swells in the ringing silence. If local temperatures drop by fifty degrees overnight, this is the reason why. Then she takes all the time in the world to climb into the driver’s seat. There’s a flash of her endless legs and, just as I suspected, her bare pussy.

She doesn’t say a word, but there’s something vaguely triumphant about her now. I get the feeling she wants all of us to see all of her. I get the feeling she revels in the attention. She’s like Taylor Swift mid stadium concert.

With a final daggered look at Lucien, she slams the door and zooms off, spewing gravel in her wake.

The guards and I unfreeze as her fiery red taillights disappear around a curve in the driveway. “Everyone okay?” says the older guard.

Lucien gestures at the younger, taller guard. I take a closer look at him and realize that he’s the guy I met with Maddie the housekeeper earlier. What was his name? Ted? Ted Winwood. That’s it. “Take the Range Rover,” Lucien tells him, grabbing the overnight bag and thrusting it at him. “Follow her. Make sure she makes it safe to the hotel. She doesn’t have any money or her purse, so make sure she gets her bag. Report back ASAP.”

“You got it, Lucien,” the guy says, hurrying off toward the garage.

Lucien turns to the older guard. “I want you at the guard station with your eyes on the monitors. She’s not allowed back on the grounds for any reason. Ever. Understand? Any sign of her—any whiff of her—and you call me.”

“Understood,” the man says grimly.

“Go,” Lucien tells him.

The man takes off just as the other guard reverses out of the garage and speeds after Ravenna, leaving Lucien to hurry over to me. “You okay?” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Am I okay? Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?” I reach for him. That’s when he does something he’s never done before. He backs up a step and holds his hands up to keep me from touching him. The rejection hits me like a gut punch. “Lucien…?”

“We’ll talk in the morning.” Oh, God. He can’t even seem to force himself to look at me now. He’s focused on some elusive point off to my left as he backs up a step. “Go back to sleep.”

---