Page 7 of The Charmer's Gambit
“You focus on your career, baby girl. I’ll be back when we’re both ready.” It’d been a taunt and a promise all wrapped up in one, and it haunted my nightmares.
Because he did, in fact, show up when and where he wanted and contacted me at least once every other week in some shape or form.
Then he vanished around the holidays, and I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d moved on or found someone else to obsess over.
But no.
It was a naive notion.
And I knew better.
Ryan Albertson did not simply forget about the things he deemed to be his property. He gave them space on occasion, but he always came back to check on what he considered to be his.
He didn’t waste any time in searching my apartment, checking my bedroom first, the bathroom, and then the guest room. The words,Get the fuck out, lodged in my throat, unable to escape. Standing up to him always made it worse. Playing along worked best. My hand trembled as it slipped into my pocket to find my phone. Two clicks and it would dial Sarah. I waited to see his expression before I made my decision. He might hide behind a mask of handsome perfection for the outside world, but he never hid from me.
“Is Sarah coming or leaving?” he wondered, noting the boxes.
I cleared the emotion from my throat. “She’s moving out.” Lying was only a short-term solution. He always checked what I told him, and the repercussions for a lie were far worse than the truth. Ryan’s political connections were vast and terrifying. He’d threatened to have me disbarred more than once, and I had no doubt he could do it.
“Good. I never liked her.” He smoothed a hand down his tie as he turned toward me with an adoring look that made my insides churn. How many times had he used those eyes on me and won?
I’m sorry, Rachel.
I love you.
I’ll never do it again. I promise.
Those eventually turned into something much worse.
I own you.
You would be nothing without me.
Shut up, or I’ll do it again.
I shivered at the onslaught of memories. They felt so fresh despite being several years old. I barely survived him once, but sometimes I wondered if I ever really did. He seemed to think this separation was temporary. That I would eventually be his again and just needed time to grow my career first.
He called it an experiment, to see how it would help his already prestigious position to date around and build politically favorable relationships. But I was still hisgirl, the one he would wed one day when the time was right. And I didn’t have a say in it.
Most days, I wondered who left whom, because I could swear I was the one who broke off the engagement. Granted, I never did say the words. That would have required Ryan to be there the day I woke up alone on the floor.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” he murmured, cupping my cheek. I caressed my phone, debating whether or not to dial Sarah. Thisclose, he would hear it ring. And that would infuriate him. I had too many meetings this week to risk one of hislessons. Walking in with a black eye never impressed anyone. “What have you been up to?”
“Working.” I tried to swallow but couldn’t. Not with him touching me. “A lot.”
“Mmm, I think you work too hard. Always have.”
Yes, that was a point of contention between us. He wanted me to be a Barbie doll stay-at-home wife who attended his political functions and looked pretty on his arm.
It didn’t start that way. He used to encourage my studies and even applauded my high marks. We went out to celebrate the day Baker Brown offered me a position after I graduated from Northwestern.
Then things started to change.
The signs were always there, but I didn’t understand them. He showered me with love and affection, and I thought it was the rigorousness of law school keeping me from seeing my friends and family. But it was him. Always him. And when I finally broke and told him I couldn’t take it anymore, he punished me. Severely. After I regained consciousness, I called the only person I trusted to help.Mark.
My neck ached just thinking about that day.
Three years ago, I swore never to be that weak woman again, and I’d avoided powerful, high-handed men ever since.
