Page 44 of Ravens
God, he’s being so fucking stoic. I mean, he’s always stoic, but this feels severe even for him. I swallow thickly as he rises and then step into the dress while he watches me. Once I get it up to my chest, he walks around me and zips it closed. The classicstrapless gown fits like a glove and has a sophisticated mermaid silhouette with a slight fishtail off the back. The perfect black-tie dress.
He walks around me. “It’s perfect.”
“Fine.” I nod.
I get an unimpressed look, and then he unzips me and waits while I slip out of it. I’m left in the middle of the floor naked as he carries the dress back to the bed. The second zipper is just as loud as the first, and his face is unreadable when he hands me the dress I bought.
I open the short zipper on the hip and then step into the swathe of champagne satin that I picked out. It slides up my body effortlessly, and I watch him as I slide it up my arms, one at a time. The narrow shoulders drop down to a beautifully draped cowl at my chest, showing an acceptable amount of cleavage.
Closing the zipper on my hip, the fabric pulls taut over my stomach and hips, clinging to my curves. I turn slowly, showing him the back that cowls all the way down to my ass, leaving my back bare. It pools slightly at my feet with just a small train and has a gentle trumpet silhouette.
“Shoes?”
I nod toward the bags at the wall, and he picks through them, drawing out the shoebox and returning with the sky-high, strappy gold heels in his hands. Without a word, he kneels in front of me again and slides the shoes onto my feet beforefastening the strap around my ankles. Now I’m staring straight into his eyes when he stands again.
“No one deserves to look at you in this.”
“Okay,” I whisper in defeat, and my throat tightens. “May I shower now?”
I’d agreed not to last night, fulfilling some possessive need of his, but now I don’t want him to have that satisfaction. I don’t want to cooperate anymore.
There is another unreadable flash in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods. I turn and walk to the other end of the space and close myself in the bright white room just as my eyes well with tears.
Fuck, he’s good.
Turning on the shower masks the sob I let out. His anger shouldn’t affect me like this, but I think I’m just surprised by it. I thought when I came back it would be okay, that when he saw Icame backhe wouldn’t be angry anymore. I just needed some time . . . It shouldn’t bother me so much.
This is temporary. Our time together is limited.
Hanging the dress on one of the hooks and placing the shoes against the wall, I step into the shower and let the scalding water blast me for a moment before sinking down to the floor and staring numbly at the tile wall.
Normally I would tell myself it’s a manipulation, because it is, and then I’d get over it and level my own manipulation to retaliate, but my brain isn’t working right anymore. I’ve never wanted someone’s approval like this . . . My heart is starting toget involved, and I can’t stop it, and I know it’s going to get hurt. He got in—Ilethim in, and now he’s doing what he does, and I feel so fucking helpless to resist it.
How can I be like this when I know it’s an angle?
Find your own angle. This is what you do. You are so good at this. Stop letting him beat you.
A shadow passes over the wall, and when I look, he’s sitting on the floor beside the opening to the shower.
“I thought you really left . . . I always expected you to at some point.” He pulls at his ear and then meets my gaze. “It felt different than I thought it would.”
“Why didn’t you come after me?” My voice wobbles despite myself.
Coming after me would have blown my day, but I expected it to some degree. It was a toss-up between him hunting me down and him waiting to see what I’d do, but I bargained on being hunted. In my head, he’d have found me quickly, nearby, and realized he was overreacting. Some semblance of trust would form . . . or I’d come back, and he’d be surprised but happy, and again, that seed of trust would be in place.
Instead, there is only anger and disappointment and the crushing weight of the guilt he’s making me feel, even though I haven’t done anything wrong. And if it feels differently than he thought it would for him too . . . that can’t be right, or real. It has to be another facet of the web he’s weaving to test me, make me lower my guard enough to trust him and come clean.
“I didn’t want to find you.” He bumps his head back on the wall. “Not today.”
“You’rethatmad at me?” So mad he didn’t want to find me because he would have done something bad if he did?
I push my eyes into my knees and rock slightly. A hand grabs me, and I panic, sliding back and throwing him off again and again until he crawls all the way in and drags me across the tile to him.
“Stop it!” I slap him. “Let me go!”
Sitting, he pins my arms across my own body as he hugs my back to his chest. The water has soaked him, ruining his fine wool suit, and I start crying.
His grip on me relaxes. “You can’t stroll out into the world like that. Not anymore.” He presses his mouth to my temple and murmurs, “Someone could see you. A camera could have picked up your face.”
