Page 116 of A Dash of You

Crew lets out a tense sigh. “Fuck. I'll be pissed if you die for a woman you just met.”

“She’s not just a woman.”

“They’re alljustwomen, man.”

I stand, placing a hand on my friend's shoulder. “Not this one.”

“What about Charlotte? What if Sora took off like she did, and it wasn’t her fucked up husband?”

There’s a lot I can tolerate, but accusing Sora of something Charlotte had done isn’t one of them. “Never say that to me again.”

“Shit. I’m just thinking out loud. Covering all possibilities.”

“It’s not a possibility. Lana said her stuff was untouched. If she had taken off, she wouldn’t have left everything. And her car. Not to mention the death trap I almost walked into at the shop.” Hoping my shop is still going to be standing, but that comes second. I don’t give a fuck about my garage until I have Sora back in my arms.

“You’re right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll get a hold of Spencer.”

“And I think you should stay here. Lana shouldn’t be alone in case his men come back for whatever reason.”

“Fine. But I’m staying at your place.”

“Fair enough.”

“Jesus Christ. I hope you know what you’re doing, man.”

“Nothing makes more sense in my life right now than her.” It’s true. Sora came into my life unexpectedly, and I’ll be damned if I let her get away. Let him hurt her. Over my dead body.

Hold on a little longer, dove. I’m coming for you.

Sora

I barely slept. And when I managed to close my eyes, a loud crash downstairs jolted me back to my haunted reality.

There’s hustle and bustle. People everywhere. A chaotic mess. Florists and event coordinators shouting out demands. I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t sit well.

I cross paths with the cook. “What is this?”

“It’s all for the annual business party tonight.” He stalks off, pushing a catering cart.

A dizzy feeling comes over me, and I brace myself along the wall for stability.

“Miss. You don’t look so well. You should lie down before the party.”

I’m not sure who said that because I was too busy trying to focus my attention on breathing properly. Slow, steady breaths. Slow and steady.

“She’s fine, Beatrice. Thank you.” My husband appears before me, dismissing the housekeeper.

“She’s right. You seem rather ill. You should rest before tonight. I need you looking your best.”

“Why? So you can pimp me out like one of your whores?”

I don’t expect it. I know what he’s capable of now, especially after last night, but it still doesn’t prepare me. The backhand to my face is quick, knocking my head to the side. I can already feel the trickle of blood from my lip. Same slap, more intense, different side.

Fucker.

If anyone saw it, they pretend not to notice.

“When will you learn? This is how it’s going to be from now on.” He cups the side of my face where he struck me and squeezes. A jolt of pain shoots through me. “Stop being so mouthy or this will be the result.”

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