Page 4 of My Ruthless Husband

“That you’re not interested. Yeah, I heard you loud and clear.” He smirks, leaning back on his stool like he’s making himself at home. “But here’s the thing—I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself. Plus, having me around might work in your favor.”

When he waggles his eyebrows, I snort. “And how’s that?”

“No one’s gonna dare bother you if they think you’re with me. I’ve got thatdon’t mess with hervibe, you know?”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me.

“And,” he adds with exaggerated pride, “I’m great company. I’ll keep you entertained, help you forget whatever’s weighing on your mind. I’m the talker of the group.”

His goofy grin actually manages to pull a smile from me. Against all odds, I feel a bit lighter.

An hour drifts by, and I finally decide it’s time to call it a night. Rising from my stool, I turn to Clément with a small grateful smile. “Thanks for the company.”

“Anytime, Raven,” he replies with an easy grin.

I bid Clément goodbye before leaving the bar. As I step out, the cool night air washes over me.

True to his word, Clément had been a perfect gentleman. No flirty comments, no unwelcome advances—just endless, fun-filled conversations. He shared stories about his travels.

For a little while, I was able to forget everything.

He didn’t even ask for my number when we said goodbye. It was such a rare, simple kindness that it caught me off guard. I’d forgotten how refreshing it could be to meet someone who didn’t want anything in return. Clément was one of the good ones.

The walk back to my hotel suite feels unusually calm, the buzz from the wine dulling the chaos in my head. My thoughts, so loud all evening, have finally quieted. My feet stumble slightly, not entirely steady on the heels I regretted wearing hours ago.

At the door, it takes me a few tries to unlock it. I’m successful at last and push the door open, stepping into the dark suite with a tired sigh.

I toss my handbag onto the table, my jacket lands haphazardly on the couch. All I want is a hot shower to wash off the night, but exhaustion wins out. So I’m just going to wipe my makeup off and crawl into bed. That’s all I can manage right now.

With one hand braced on the couch, I lean down to pull off my heels, wincing slightly at the ache in my arches. The cool carpet soothes my bare feet as I straighten up, my body swaying slightly from the leftover buzz of the alcohol.

I’m halfway to the bedroom when my toe catches on something. I stumble, catching myself on the doorframe before I fall. I survey the object on the floor and frown. Because I see nothing.

That’s when the darkness registers. I forgot to hit the lights. Heaving a sigh, I feel my way inside the bedroom toward the light switch on the wall.

I reach for the light switch, but my fingers falter as unease creeps over me. The air feels different now, heavier, like something is watching me.

Awareness prickles at the back of my neck.

I turn and freeze. My breath catches in my throat. A man is sitting in the armchair by the window, shrouded in shadows.

I blink rapidly and shake my head to clear it. When the large figure sitting in the chair doesn’t fade, my heart slams against my ribcage, pounding a mile a minute. I reach up and hit the lights.

I gasp loudly, taking a hasty step back and colliding with the wall behind me.

“Hello, angel,” my husband says, his voice deep. “Did you have a good time without me?”

Chapter Two

For a few heartbeats, I stay completely still, my body burning with heat before the chill sets in, creeping through my skin like ice.

It was a wonder I could hear the deep tenor of his voice over the ringing in my ears.

I stare at the man I’d thought I escaped. My brain is yelling at me, urging me to bolt. To escape. But my body doesn’t cooperate. I keep standing like a statue, helpless and weak.

Damian lets out a deep sigh, his broad shoulders rising and falling. I feel my legs start to give way. Reality finally manages to pierce through my shock and hits me.

I may have run away just a week ago but it’s been two long months since I last saw my husband. He was supposed to return home after a business trip, but complications kept him away longer than either of us expected. Two months stretched endlessly, and he even missed our first wedding anniversary. He didn’t call, didn’t text—not even a simple “I’m sorry” for missing it.

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