Page 7 of They All Own Me

"Why? Afraid I'll embarrass you?"

"Actually, yes." He steps closer, towering over me. "You've been acting weird lately. Making smart comments. I can't afford for you to say something stupid and fuck this up for me."

"Heaven forbid I develop a personality." I mutter to myself.

I grab his grey suit he's strategically placed on the back of the chair, then grab my purse from the hook, the leather creaking under my grip. "As you wish, dear husband."

"And Tatum?" He calls after me. "Take the long way home."

Something about his usual smugness irritates the fuck out of me. I drop his suit back on the chair. The fabric makes a soft swoosh as it settles. "You know what, no."

He nearly chokes on his drink. "What did you just say to me?"

"This is my home too. I'm not leaving." My voice doesn't waver, even as my heart pounds against my ribs.

Thomas's nostrils flare. He crosses the space between us in two long strides, backing me against the kitchen counter. His cologne - mixed with that mystery perfume - makes my stomach turn.

"Your home?" He laughs, the sound sharp and cruel. "Nothing here belongs to you. Not the house, not the cars, not even those designer clothes you parade around in."

"I didn't ask for any of it."

"Oh, but you sure as hell enjoy spending my money." His hands slam down on either side of me, caging me in. "Let me remind you of something, sweetheart. I made you who you are.You were nothing before me - just another desperate little girl from a family drowning in debt."

The marble edge digs into my back. "That's not-"

"You will do exactly as I tell you to do." His breath hits my face, scotch-soaked and hot. "Because without me, you go right back to being nobody. Is that what you want?"

"Maybe being nobody would be better than being your puppet."

His fingers wrap around my jaw, squeezing. "You're getting real brave lately. Testing boundaries you shouldn't." He leans closer, his lips nearly brushing my ear. "Don't forget who owns you, Tatum. Now take the fucking suit and get out of my sight."

I snatch his precious suit and my purse as I storm toward the front door. The fabric crinkles in my death grip, and I hope it wrinkles beyond repair.

"Pompous piece of shit," I mutter, yanking the door open.

The evening air hits my face as I march down our perfectly manicured walkway. My keys jingle in my trembling hands as I fumble with the car door.

I toss the suit in the back seat with more force than necessary. "Go take the suit, Tatum. Get lost for a few hours, Tatum. Make yourself scarce so you don't have to witness whatever shady bullshit I'm up to.” I find myself mocking his annoying ass voice.

I slide behind the wheel of my Mercedes - correction, his Mercedes - and jam the key into the ignition. The engine purrs to life, but I sit there, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

I adjust the rearview mirror, catching sight of his silhouette in the upstairs window. "Hope they all choke on those appetizers I spent hours making."

The tires screech against the pavement as I peel out of our driveway. Let the neighbors talk. Let them wonder why Mrs. Cope is acting so unladylike.

I punch the radio on, drowning out my own thoughts. "Over-privileged, under-qualified, cheating dick."

I slam on the brakes halfway down our street, the Mercedes skidding to a stop. The suit slides off the back seat with a satisfying thump.

"You know what, fuck this."

I throw the car in reverse, tires squealing as I back up to the Mayworth's house. Their perfectly trimmed hedges rise like green walls on either side of their driveway. I grab Thomas's precious grey suit and march across their pristine lawn in my heels.

"Sorry, Martha," I mutter, knowing how proud she is of her gardening. I stuff the suit deep into the dense foliage, making sure the sleeve sticks out just enough to be found eventually. "Consider it karma for telling everyone at the country club about my 'drinking problem' last month."

Back in the car, I drive the two blocks back in the direction of the house and park behind Mrs. Davies overgrown cedar trees. Her pathetic attempt at hiding her late-night cocaine dealings from Deputy Tyler Helms, next door. Nonetheless, I'm thankful for the eyesore at the moment, it's the perfect vantage point of our driveway.

"Let's see these 'diplomats' of yours." I kill the engine and sink lower in my seat.

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