Page 57 of Twisted Love

“Fine,” I say as if it doesn’t bother me in the least that my husband would put her before me, his wife. I release his hand.

“See you in the car,” Earl says.

Wordlessly, I turn and walk away, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I make my way toward the exit. The voices and laughter around me blur, my pulse pounding in my ears. Earl’s words replay in my mind, each one cutting deep. He stood there, defending her, taking her side, acting as though I was the unreasonable one.

By the time I reach the valet station, my anger has morphed into something colder, more resolute. The attendant brings the car around, and I climb into the backseat without a word, my hands clenched in my lap.

The car idles quietly at the valet station, the faint hum of the engine doing nothing to quell the storm raging inside me. My hands remain clenched in my lap as I steal a glance back toward the grand entrance of the venue. The golden light spilling out onto the steps seems to mock me, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold knot twisting tighter in my chest.

I wait.

The minutes tick by, each one slower than the last. A couple emerges, laughing as they descend the staircase, their silhouettes elegant and carefree. Another group follows, their voices carrying faintly in the night air. But there’s no sign of him. No sign of Earl. My nails press into my palms as my mind drifts, unbidden, to the possibilities.

Is he still with her?

The thought surfaces, unwelcome and sharp, and I force myself to shake it off. I won’t let my imagination run wild. He’s probably just tying up loose ends, exchanging polite goodbyes. But then another thought creeps in—what if it’s more than that? What if she is telling him what I told her? Nah. That I know for sure she is not doing. But what if he’s holding her now, whispering the same low, intimate words he’d whispered to me not long ago?

My stomach churns, and I snap my gaze back to the valet in front of me. I don’t care, I tell myself. This isn’t jealousy. It’s annoyance. That’s all.

But the ache in my chest betrays me.

The clock on the dashboard glows brightly, each flickering number marking the passage of time. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. One minute. Five minutes. Seven minutes. By the time I catch sight of him, I’m teetering on the edge of leaving altogether.

Earl steps out of the building, his figure backlit by the golden glow of the foyer. He doesn’t rush, his movements are calm and measured, as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. My heart thuds heavily as I watch him scan the valet line, his eyes landing on his car. For a moment, I think he looks relieved, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain.

I turn my head sharply away and pretend to be absorbed in the view outside the car. I hear the sound of his approaching footsteps, but I don’t turn around. The door opens, and the seat dips slightly as he slides in beside me. He shuts the door quietly behind him. Still, I don’t turn.

Neither of us speaks and the driver pulls away. The quiet hum of the tires on the tarmac fills the terrible space between us. I keep my gaze fixed out the window, watching the lights pass in a kaleidoscope of colors. Earl doesn’t speak, but I can feel his presence like a gravitational pull, drawing every ounce of my attention despite my best efforts to resist.

“You’re quiet,” he notes.

My fingers tighten on the hem of my dress as I struggle to find the right words. Anger simmers beneath the surface, but it’s tangled with hurt and pain.

“What do you want me to say, Earl?” I ask, finally turning around to face him. “That I’m thrilled you kept me waiting while you entertained Annabelle?”

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re under the mistaken impression,” Earl says, his voice smooth but laced with venom, “that you somehow have the right to dictate my actions. Or to speak to me in the way you are doing now.” He shifts slightly, turning to face me fully, his expression a mask of calculated detachment. “I can talk to whoever I want. And if I wanted to take Annabelle up on her offer, go up to her hotel room, and fuck her—then I could. And you wouldn’t get to say a word about it.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. My chest tightens, a sharp ache blooming in my ribs as his words echo in my mind.If I wanted to. If I wanted to.The sheer audacity and cruelty of him makes tears burn into my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him.

But Earl is not finished. His voice is low, almost mocking. “So don’t sit there, bitch and whine, acting like you own me. You don’t own me. I own you. Don’t forget what this is, Raven. Don’t forget what you are to me.”

The tears spill over before I can stop them. Hot, humiliating streaks down my cheeks that hurt my heart. If the car wasn’t already moving, I would have thrown the door open and walked into the night.

But instead, I sit there, silent, my hands trembling in my lap, speechless with shock, sorrow, and pain. To be so humiliated, so degraded …

I want to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s cruel, that he’s causing an irreparable rift between us, but the words lodge in my throat. What is the use? I’ve tried everything and nothing works. Sure, it’s good for a tiny bit, while we’re having sex, but almost immediately afterwards he morphs into a heartless monster again. I swallow the lump in my throat and stare out the window.

By the time the car pulls up to the house, my anger has hardened into something colder. If this is what he wants, if he wants this relationship to be devoid of intimacy, of even basic decency, then that’s exactly what he’ll get.

The chauffeur opens my door, and I step out and throw his jacket back into the back seat of the car. Rain has begun to fall. It’s light but steady, the drops soaking into my hair and dress as I walk calmly toward the front door.

I’ve only taken a few steps when I feel it—a strong hand clamping down on my arm, spinning me around.

“Let me go!” I yell, twisting in his grip.

Earl’s face is inches from mine, his expression thunderous. “Raven,” he snaps, his face white with fury. “You don’t just walk away from me like that.”

“Leave me alone, Earl,” I spit, yanking my arm free, but he’s stronger. His fingers tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep me there.

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