Page 33 of Betrayed in the Dark
Closing my eyes, I lean against the wall and slide down, allowing the tears to cascade over my cheeks. My arms wrap around my legs, and I press the side of my face into my knees.
“Everything will be fine,” I whisper, rocking back and forth, knowing deep down in my heart it’s a lie.
Chapter eight
Eli
“Ineed to go shopping.”
Those are the first words I’ve heard from Madeleine in two days, and she doesn’t even have the decency to look at me as she crosses the kitchen to grab her iced coffee from the fridge.
Two days ago, when we returned from her bridal shower, she immediately went to her room with a pint of ice cream, slamming the door behind her. Then, just yesterday, when she finally ventured out, I told her I had made some iced coffee and put it in the fridge for her, but she merely narrowed her eyes at me, grabbed an orange, and retreated to her room, where she spent the rest of the day holed up.
And for the past two days, while she’s been avoiding me, I’ve been replaying that fucking kiss between her and Alastor that I had to witness with a front-row seat. I tried to take out my fury in her gym basement, but no amount of time spent punching the boxing bags or lifting weights has managed to ease the wrathcoursing through my veins when that image keeps resurfacing, taunting me.
Fucking with my head.
The only thing that gives me a semblance of solace is knowing that one day, that bloody wanker will regret ever touching what is mine.
Mark my words.
I lower my coffee mug to the table and observe Madeleine as she pours cream into her drink, either completely oblivious to my presence or pretending that my existence doesn’t faze her in the slightest. Her knee-length black sweater dress hugs her curves, making me wish I could peel it from her skin, inch by inch until it lies tossed on the floor. Her long raven hair falls to the middle of her back, causing me to imagine wrapping it around my fist as I—
She slams the fridge closed, pulling me out of my thoughts. I internally shake my head and adjust my seat.
Glancing at my watch, I note that I have some time to kill.
So, I’ll play along.
I stand and walk over to the sink, rinsing my mug. I hear the impatient clacking of Madeleine’s heels on the floor as she waits for me, so I decide to take my time. And after hearing an impatient sigh, I finally turn to face her and grin.
I gesture toward the front door. “Lead the way, Princess.”
She takes a breath, closing her eyes as her spine straightens. “I told you not to call me that.”
I give a half-shrug as I pass her. “Old habit.”
As we step outside, her driver, Reginald, pulls up in front of the steps. Just as her hand reaches for the handle, I beat her to it and open the door for her. She shakes her head and steps inside, sliding across the leather seat. I follow her in, taking the seat beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asks incredulously.
“Sitting.”
“You’re supposed to sit up front with Reginald.”
“Nah. I think I like it better back here.” I place a hand on my stomach. “The front seat makes me car sick,” I lie.
Her face scrunches in annoyance, which I find adorable. “You don’t get car sick.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“I—”
“Fine,” she snaps, turning her body toward the window and as far away from me as the car accelerates. She reaches for the side of her head to tuck her long, dark strands behind her ear, and I notice her hand.
I grip her wrist, and she quickly turns to face me, her eyes wide.
