Page 211 of My Ruthless Husband

I tried to explain that I had my reasons for staying away without revealing too much. The hurt must have shown on my face because she realized how deeply her actions had upset me and offered a heartfelt apology and promised not to interfere again. It was a small comfort.

The next day, I go grocery shopping. I’m picking out a few things for dinner when I feel it again—his presence.

I know he’s here.

I grip the handle of my basket a little too tightly, my knuckles white. I look over the rows of canned goods, trying to find something, anything to distract me. But no matter what I do, a prickling sensation crawls up the back of my neck.

And then I hear it. His deep voice. “River…”

I close my eyes, biting back the pain and anger that bubbles up in my chest. I want to scream at him. Tell him to go away. To stop haunting me. But I don’t. Instead, I continue moving through the aisles, my pace quickening as I try to escape him.

After paying, I exit the store with arms full of bags and questions swirling in my mind. Did I imagine him? How can he just disappear—

I cry out as he appears in front of me.

He says nothing. Just reaches for the heavy bags and begins walking, leaving me no choice but to follow.

“Stop stalking me!” I say falling into step beside him. He says nothing. I take the time to study him, he still hasn’t shaved. He is wearing a dark sweater, jeans and corduroy jacket.

“So now you’re ignoring me?”

“You’re ready to listen, angel?” he asks, shutting me up. “Didn’t think so.”

The days slip by like this. Over and over, I see him everywhere. In the village square, across the street from the cottage, out of the corner of my eye when I’m walking into the bakery. He’s persistent. He won’t give up.

He follows me around like a shadow, doing the little things without a word—helping with errands, being there when I don’t need him. And it drives me crazy. He’s constantly around, making sure I’m aware of his existence.

Where did the driven, work-obsessed man go? The one who used to bury himself in work even on our trips? Now, it’s like his job doesn’t even exist. He’s acting as though he has no purposeoutside of stalking me. What happened to the workaholic Damian Montgomery?

Two weeks go by and I’ve seriously had it. I’m returning home after the long day working at flower shop and he’s right behind me. Stalking me again.

When I’m near the front door I abruptly spin around. “I’m not going to keep doing this,” I say, my voice shaking slightly, despite my best efforts. “Why can’t you understand? I don’t want to talk to you! I won’t let you ruin me again.”

His eyes are dark, unreadable. “You’re wrong, River. I’m not trying to ruin you. I’m trying to make things right.”

“By following me around, stalking me in every corner of this village? How does that make things right?”

He steps closer, his hand outstretched, as if he is going to touch me but I shake my head. “No,” I say, backing away. “I’ve had enough.”

I unlock the door and storm inside. But when I move to slam the door on him, his hand shoots out, blocking it from closing. But he’s late and the door slams on his hand with a sickening thud.

“Damian!” I gasp, rushing to his side.

I look at his hand, and my stomach lurches. Blood is already dripping from his fingers, a crimson trail on the floor beneath him. I grab his arm, pulling him inside, my hands trembling. “Oh my God, Damian, why would you—” My words break off as I guide him to the couch, the sight of his injured hand making my chest ache.

I scramble to find the first aid kit. Mrs. Hawthorne comes out of her bedroom and stares at me with wide eyes as I rummage through things. I don’t answer her questions and sprint back to the living room.

I’m shaking as I kneel in front of him, my tears falling. Gently, I take his hand in mine, cradling it.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, barely able to breathe through the sobs. “I never wanted this... I never wanted to hurt you.”

I press a cloth to his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.

He’s silent for a moment, letting me tend to him.

When I finally look up, I find him watching me. “I’d take a dagger to my heart if it meant you’d finally talk to me.”

“But you can’t fix this,” I whisper, my voice filled with sorrow.

---