Page 154 of My Ruthless Husband

I’m going to surprise Damian. I am going to dress up for him for our dinner. Tonight, I’m going to dress up like the new bride that I am.

I pull the gown out and slip into it, its fabric cool against my skin, gliding down effortlessly. It hugs my body in all the right places.

Moving to the vanity, I carefully pick out jewelry. My fingers trace over a dainty golden chain, and I clasp it around my neck. Simple matching earrings follow.

I brush a light dusting of blush onto my cheeks and apply a nude gloss to my lips.

By the time I’m ready, the sky has darkened completely. My pulse quickens as I glance toward the door, hoping that Damian would be waiting for me downstairs. I smooth my hands over the gown, take one last look in the mirror, and head toward the door, excitement and nerves twining in my chest.

As I descend the grand staircase, the hall below is silent. My heart races with anticipation. Archibald greets me at the bottom of the stairs. “Mrs. Montgomery, I was just about to come up and inform ye that Mr. Montgomery won’t be joinin’ ye for dinner tonight.”

I stop in my tracks, the words hitting me harder than they should. “He’s... not?” I ask, my voice laced with disappointment. “Why?”

“He’s gone out.”

“Where did he go?” I ask weakly.

“I’m afraid I dinnae know, ma’am. He left earlier and... didnae say when he’d return.”

A dull ache forms in my chest as the excitement I’d felt moments ago drains away. I spent so much time getting ready, imagining what it would be like to share our first romantic dinner together as husband and wife, and now... he’s gone.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Present

Igive a little cry as Damian hauls me out of the car unceremoniously. He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind us, his focus locked solely on dragging me inside the mansion.

“Damian, let go of me!” I snap, yanking my arm, but his grip on my wrist is like a vise, not letting up for a second.

“Not a chance,” he growls.

I dig my heels into the ground, trying to slow him down, but it’s like trying to stop a freight train. “I said, let me go!” My voice rises, furious. I shove at his bicep, my fingers curling into his shirt sleeve, but the muscles underneath don’t budge.

He doesn’t even acknowledge my struggle—just grips me tighter, moving with brutal efficiency. I thrash harder, swinging my arm back to hit him, but he catches it mid-air, his eyes flashing with dark amusement.

“Keep fighting me, River. See where it gets you.” His words are a warning, but I can hear the enjoyment in his tone. Bastard.

I try to plop down on the floor of our salon but he is faster, he grabs my body and maneuvers me in front of him then begins pushing me inside. I claw at his hands around me, twisting my body in his grasp, but he only grunts in response before I’m suddenly lifted off my feet, flung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “Damian!” I scream, kicking my legs uselessly as the world spins upside down.

He marches with me hanging over him, utterly powerless.

Through the disorienting view, I spot Vicky and Hal, watching. My face burns with fury and embarrassment. Vicky’s face is red as she watches us. But Hal has no expression on his face. I glare at him, silently demanding his help.

“No one’s going to help you, angel,” Damian says coolly. “You’re mine.”

“Put me down, you psycho!” I hit him on his ass, but it only makes him chuckle, his pace quickening as he storms up the stairs toward the master bedroom.

He doesn’t stop until we are inside. Then I’m thrown onto the bed, my breath knocked out as Damian’s dark figure looms over me. I prop myself on my elbows to glare at him. He stares at me for a few beats before turning and walking away.

Relief hits me so hard my elbows give out, and I collapse onto the bed, my chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Thank God, he’s leaving me alone.

I watch him reach for the door, his fingers curling around the handle. My heart stops when instead of leaving, he swings the door shut, the soft click of the lock echoing in the room with a dangerous finality.

Panic grips me. I scramble off the bed, but his voice slices through the silence.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

My body freezes for a heartbeat, but my defiance kicks in. I stand beside the bed, lifting my chin as if I’m not terrified of what comes next.

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