Page 48 of Gamble with Me
"She's not going anywhere," he stated simply, adjusting his arm in the bandage. His smug expression raised my blood pressure dangerously high.
"She's leaving with me," I ground out, fisting my hands. My long nails dug into my palms, but I welcomed the pain. The light sensation helped me to stay sane.
"Only over my dead body," he said firmly, holding my glare. My anger didn't bother him because he considered me a harmless, stupid doll.
"Don't tempt me," I snarled, entering the living room.
"You’ve become bold now you work for gangsters," he mocked, following me into the kitchen. "Would you do it as easily as you talk about it?"
"Do you want to find out?" I challenged, taking the huge stainless-steel knife from the holder. I was never a violent type, but I could understand why Zyon and his brothers solved their problems with violence. Some people just didn't know where the line was.
Chester narrowed his eyes at me. His demeanor was scary in the dim glow of the kitchen's lights. Maybe I should've been afraid of him, but I was too infuriated and irritated by hisbehavior. What he dared to do to Zara and me was utterly ridiculous. He couldn't bully us to be with him.
"When I met you for the first time, I was enchanted by your beauty," Chester said, approaching me. I pointed the knife at him, ready to use it if necessary. "With your intelligence, it wasn't so perfect."
Roughly, he snatched my wrist and seized it, making me whimper. Another twist, and I let go of the knife, and it fell on the floor with aclink.
Forcefully, he grasped the back of my head, almost tearing my hair out while I tried to free myself. But I couldn't. Even with one hand injured, he pushed me around like a rag doll. He pressed me against the counter, his face merely an inch from mine.
"You stupid bitch," he hissed through gritted teeth. I smelled his cologne, which made me nauseous. My nails clawed at his face and neck, but he didn't care about the marks I made on his skin. I tore open the bandage holding his arm, though. It still didn't stop him, but at least he let go of my head. "You're really asking for this."
"Let me go," I seethed, blindly tapping my hand on the counter to find something I could use.
"First, I'll take what is mine," he said in a devious whisper, making my blood freeze in shock and fright. Abruptly, he spun me around, pressing his firm body against me.
"Stop," I whined, panic overcoming my thoughts when I felt his hard erection through his pants. But, instead of listening to me, Chester took a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, making me almost yelp in pain.
"I need to remind you who this body belongs to," he growled in my ear, chuckling at my pointless fight. I tried to stomp on his foot and nudge him with my elbows, yet his hold on me only tightened, and the pain increased. At this point, he was tearing my hair out.
"Please, stop," I cried out when his free hand cupped my pussy, and he kicked my legs open. The thin dress didn't provide a barrier between his forceful touches and my skin. "Chester, no, stop. Please, stop."
But he was deaf to my pleading voice. I felt as he rolled up my skirt, aiming for my panties, but I managed to slow his effort with my fighting. I wouldn't give up easily, even when I knew he could do whatever he wanted to me.
The holder with knives was within my reach. The sink was empty; only one glass was placed nearby. My fingertips brushed the surface, but Chester yanked me back when he noticed my intentions. His demonic laugh pierced my ears, killing the last of my courage to stand up to him.
"Mommy?"
A silent cry broke free from my throat, and Chester instantly let go of me when Zara entered the kitchen. Her hair was messy, and her sleepy expression suggested she hadn’t noticed anything.
"What’s going on, sweetie?" Chester asked, squatting before her. Zara squinted her eyes at him, then looked at me, confused.
"I heard Mommy crying," she replied, rubbing her eyes. I used that moment to wipe my cheeks and plaster a smile on my face.
"We were just talking," I soothed her, approaching them. Chester cast me a warning look, but it wasn't necessary. The last thing I wanted was for my daughter to see how twisted her parents' relationship was.
"Can I sleep with you?" Her pleading voice instantly melted my heart, and I took her hand.
"Of course," I agreed, ignoring Chester's obvious disapproval. "But we'll stay in your room, okay?"
After what just happened, I wouldn't share a bed with my husband, no matter what. My knees trembled, and my stomach was nauseous, but for Zara's sake, I had to overcome it and play a happy mother.
"Our bed is bigger," Chester stated, embracing Zara and lifting her. "You'll be more comfortable there."
My throat tightened, but I hoped he wouldn't try anything with our baby girl between us. In the hall, I walked past him and pulled the sheets on our king-sized bed to the side, and he gently put her down. She was almost asleep when he placed her on the mattress, and I covered her with a blanket.
Not paying attention to him, I moved to climb the bed and lay beside Zara, but Chester stopped me. He roughly grasped my arm, squeezing it with a bruising force. I tried toyank it from his hold, but he didn't let me. Instead, he pulled me closer, his lips next to my ear when he started whispering, "I have a meeting to attend. When I return, if you and my daughter aren’t in this apartment, run and hide the best you can. Because when I find you, it'll be your end."
He pushed me out of his way and exited the room, leaving me shuddering. I never imagined he was capable of any of those things. He was temperamental, and we often argued, but not like this. The grim sign ofdomestic abuseappeared before my eyes, and I inhaled a shaky breath.
