Page 9 of On the Rocks
“You ever touch my wife again I will fucking kill you.”
Drake’s voice rasps with fury, unrecognizable in his rage. The crinkle of cellophane from the falling bags dampens McAdams’ whimpers, thrashing against Drake’s death grip. I should pick up the sandwiches Butcher dropped. The strawberry slices scattered across the black tile. Ice tea gurgling into a flood pooling at my feet.
But I can’t speak or move. Paralyzed with terror as Butcher wrenches the senator from my husband’s fists, separating the men while his secretary and I watch. Her panic as stifling as mine.
Drake jerks away from Butcher. His broad chest heaving. Hard breaths of anger and indignation while he points at his victim. Who smooths over his gray hair with a sudden strange indifference after a few muffled coughs.
“Now get the fuck out of here.”
Even more chilling is McAdams’ laugh. Loud and mocking. Some sinister joke only he understands. Or, maybe Drake does too from the disgust squeezing his blood red face. I’m the only one in the dark about the rage boiling between them.
“An absolute pleasure I’m sure, Trinity.”
Disgust rolls through me to hear my name on his curling lips again. The filthy implication from his double entendre of what he thinks of me.
He winks at Drake. “I’ll be in touch.”
Drake flinches as if he’s been struck but refrains from saying or doing anything else. Except for with me.
A stiff hand tucks me against him, guiding me away from Butcher shoving the Senator out the door. We slosh through the puddles on the floor. I don’t say a word. Too hesitant to protest against us worsening the mess we’ve made from the tension radiating out of his rigid body. Leaving watery brown footprints down the hall to his office.
After slamming the door behind him, he sinks back against the thick walnut but doesn’t let me go. His fist tight around my wrist. Not painful yet unsettling. “What was that?”
His head shakes furiously. “Nothing you should’ve ever been exposed to.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you??”
Unable to finish from him pulling me between his legs, enveloping me against his chest. I’m immobile. Trapped in his embrace. Adrenaline kicks in, and I tremble in his arms.
"Damn him. You're fucking shaking."
Anger thunders in his rich voice. Although I'm not afraid. I know I never have to fear him. I clutch him as tight as he clutches me. Comforting him the way he always comforts me. “It’s okay. I just?”
“No. It’s not. None of this is fucking okay.”
Not sure what else to say. Or do. Seeing him so vulnerable, his anxiety so exposed, hurts me more than I ever imagined. My fearless husband, who seems to effortlessly rule the whole world he holds in his hands, now reels under the weight of the universe on his hunched shoulders.
I try one more time. Just a whisper. Hopeful my conviction is what he needs to hear. “Infinity.”
My heart lifts from his tightening grip. The rumble in his throat. I’ve reached him.
“Infinity.”
My hair ruffles from his fierce whisper back to me. For the first time I can ever remember, a sense of possessiveness stirs within me. Fury on behalf of this man who loves me so passionately and ferociously. Who protects me without hesitation. Loyal to me against those who disappoint us.
I want to give him what he gives me. To do the same in return for him. Yet, he brings so much to this marriage, and I have so little to offer. No money or power or security.
Nothing.
Except me.
My love. My trust. My commitment.
The only things he says he wants from me are the only things I can actually give. All that I have. All that I am. All that I risk. A gamble that he’ll turn out like all the others. But this time feels different.
He’s different.
And, as terrified as I am that he’ll break my heart, I’m even more frightened of breaking his. “I don’t know what happened or what’s going on, but I’ll help you in any way I can…if you want me to.”
