Page 15 of Relentless

Swirling

Harper sat in silence at her elaborate dining room table. She twirled the glass stem between her thumb and forefinger, watching the red wine swirl. It wasn’t her first bottle of the evening, and she knew it certainly wouldn’t be her last. Harper drew the glass to her lips, savoring the musty red merlot.

Her attention was piqued as she heard Shepard’s designer loafers clacking down the marble staircase. She observed him dashing past the dining room to the front door, adjusting his tie as he went. Pausing as he caught a glimpse of himself in the foyer’s sizeable full-length mirror, he took the time to straighten his perfectly tailored steel gray suit and sweep his fingers through his salt and pepper hair.

Harper patiently picked at her nails as though she were sharpening her talons, allowing him ample time to primp.

It didn’t take long for her self-control to wear thin.

Clearing her throat loudly, she finally drew attention to her presence.

Shep sidestepped at the sound, peering into the dimly lit dining room.

“Yes?” he spat. His words were loaded with harsh resentment, fueled by their seemingly endless brawls.

“And where do you think you’re going tonight?” Harper challenged, her eyebrows lowering as she glared over the top of her wine glass.

His lip curled in disgust as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Out.”

Harper gave a resentful smirk, irritated to be again denied a proper answer. “As you know, Shepard, churches don’t look kindly on adultery,” she snapped, unwilling to show even the slightest restraint before she let the words fire off her tongue. “And they certainly don’t want to see their pastor in public with a whore on his arm.”

“Well,darling,”he countered, his words dripping scornfully. “They certainly didn’t mindyou, now did they?”

Harper’s eyes saw red, and her knuckles went white as she gripped her wineglass. She slung her arm back and hurled the fine crystal at Shep, who calmly observed it smash against the wall beside him. The glass exploded, sending wine and shards raining on the white marble.

“Your aim's a bit off, dear,” Shep goaded. Sneering as he rocked back on his heels, he put his hand in his pocket and headed toward the lavish front doors. “Why don’t you have another glassof wine?”

He slammed the door behind him so hard that it caused the walls to tremble and the crystal chandelier to sway. Harper brought her hand down on the dining room table with a loud bang and crossed her arms defiantly to her chest. She was reminded of Delia’s words from earlier that day. They only had to keep the charade going long enough for the tide of public opinion to turn in their favor. When he wanted to, Shep had a knack for making people feel important and worthy. All he needed was another opportunity to win over his audience.

Plotting caused her rage to simmer ever so slightly.

She had once relied on her wits and strength alone to pull herself up from her bootstraps. If she had to, she would do it again.

Admittedly, heridiothusband was right about one thing — she could certainly use another glass of wine.

Longing for the days when the household staff wouldn’t have dared to allow her glass to run dry, Harper let out a long sigh of exasperation. “I guess I have to do everything myself,” she muttered to the empty room as she pushed her chair back and stood to her feet.

Taking a sloppy sidestep, she planted her hands on the table. When she had steadied herself, she tottered into the sizeable contemporary kitchen and flipped on the lights. Blinking her eyes rapidly, they finally focused on the bright, sharp corners of the white marble countertops and stainless steel appliances.

The kitchen was one room in the house that felt foreign to her, left entirely to their hired chef, who happened to be on the list of staff who had abandoned her just days before.

“No loyalty these days,” she slurred. She had sworn to pay them everything she owed for their months of service, it would just take a few more weeks. Each of her staff seemed to care more about their own needs rather than seeing the reality of her vision.

Selfish.

Now she was drinking on an empty stomach, and it was solely because of their small-mindedness. Her maid had at least been thoughtful enough to set aside a few essentials she could quickly locate. Unfortunately, her only wine glass was in a shattered pile on the dining room floor.

She swore under her breath as she flipped open the cabinet doors, feeling her impatience increasing. Finding anything in the expansive kitchen had always been a struggle, even when she was stone sober.

There were plates, platters, and teacups stored in preparation to host a multitude of guests at the formerly bustling estate. The elaborate house that had once been the envy of her social circle now felt like a dark, empty prison. Harper looked around at the oppressively quiet kitchen and couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself.

Even prisoners get visitors.

Focusing her blurry mind back on the problem at hand, she flung open an upper cabinet and found it full of coffee mugs.She hesitated, considering if it would be unbefitting to slosh wine into one of them and call it a day.

“Things aren’t that bad,” she mumbled.

Her fastidious snobbery soon paid off.

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