The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (82 page)

Brandon glanced at me with a knowing look. “You see yourself in Riley, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but then I often see a little bit of myself in everybody. The parallels don’t always have to be obvious.”

Brandon smiled and lifted my hand to his lips for a light kiss. “That might explain why you understand most people, no matter what their station or situation is.”

“I know I’m only twenty today,” I said quietly as I leaned my head against the car window. “But I’ve had many days in my life when I felt like I was a hundred years old.”

“Thinking about it makes me a bit angry but I know that you’d be a different person if not for those days,” Brandon said softly, his fingers curling around mine as he settled our entwined hands on his lap. “I can’t give you back the time you’d lost then, growing up quickly when you should’ve still been a child sheltered from the world, but I can at least do my best to make sure that every day, for the rest of our lives, you can be young and happy.”

I grinned at him as I squeezed his hand. “And I’ll do my best to shrink those years between us—that you would feel no older than I do. We’ll do our best to kiss, laugh and love away the years ahead of us.”

There were no more words said between us after that but the comfortable silence in the car as Brandon drove us another twenty minutes to our destination was just as reassuring. 

“What are we doing here?” I asked as Brandon helped me out of the car. 

We were parked along Commonwealth Avenue in Back Bay, one of Boston’s most elite neighborhoods which featured some of the city’s oldest and most expensive town homes.

I knew this because it was somewhere I’d spent many late afternoons and early evenings strolling along when I avoided coming home years ago. 

“I’m giving you your birthday present,” Brandon said with a mischievous smile as he tugged me forward from where I’d become rooted on the pavement. 

“What could my birthday present be possibly doing in poshest part of town?” I asked warily, refusing to take any step further. 

Brandon sighed and shrugged. “It’s a bit hard to have it somewhere else considering its foundation is soundly set in the soil here.”

I swallowed, daring a glance at the row of brownstones in front of us which were softened by the streetlight. “You didn’t just buy me a house.”

He pressed his lips together in an unsuccessful attempt at fighting a smile. “I did just buy you a house. Well, it’ll be our house.”

My throat went dry as I turned my eyes back on impressive sight in front of us. 

“This... this is the, um, the Commonwealth sisters,” I stammered, motioning to the pair of town houses in front of us which were a bit of a local real-estate celebrity.

They were both huge mansions, just like the rest of their neighbors along the street, but they caught the eye with their elegant Parisian architecture that featured a limestone facade ornate with elegant carvings that nearly glowed in the light. The style was more late Baroque, graceful yet lavish. Both had a small, immaculate front yard closed off by a low, black wrought iron fence. Either house eloquently conveyed a status of elegance, wealth and charming whimsy.

“Only one was for sale but I didn’t think we needed both houses,” Brandon said with a teasing smile as he looped my arm through his and nudged me out of my spot. “It’s got great bones but it’ll need some work and updating.”

I nodded distractedly. “It’ll be a good project to give Nicole. People are interested enough in us that they’ll care who our interior designer is. It’ll get her name out there.”

“It’s just never solely about you, is it, Charlotte?” Brandon mused as he brushed a kiss on the top of my head. “Let’s go inside. I hope you like what you see.”

Walking into the house felt like floating through a very lucid dream. 

The house wasn’t occupied or fully furnished but most of the lights were on inside, softly bathing the reserved opulence of the interior in a light golden glow. 

Still speechless, I followed Brandon as he led me up the beautifully carved wooden staircase to the second floor, into what seemed like the main sitting room. 

Since it was bare from any furniture, it felt more like a ballroom with the rich wood panels, the French-style screened fireplace which was already slowly burning some wood, and the antique crystal chandelier that hung dramatically from the Rococo plaster ceiling. The dark hardwood floor gleamed in the light coming from the three floor-length arched windows that filled the front wall of the room. 

It felt familiar to me, having lived in Paris for a few months, yet it still felt like another world.

While Brandon’s penthouse was luxurious, it lacked the charm and splendour of a historical and architectural gem such as this house.

“I have a midnight picnic and a grand tour planned out but I’m holding my breath to know what you think of the place first,” Brandon said as we came to a stop in the middle of the room. Our hands broke away from each other as I continued to wander about, gazing wide-eyed at everything while Brandon stood and waited for my reaction. 

“I can’t believe this is ours,” I murmured, finally giving in to the ridiculous smile I could feel stretching across my face. I whirled around and faced Brandon who had a sheepish smile on his own face. “It feels surreal, I’ll admit, but it’s lovely, Brand. I love it.”

He drew me into his arms and kissed me softly, his fingers lightly grazing the side of my face. “Never would you have to press up your nose against the window and wish for a life where you have a safe and happy home, loved and cherished by a husband who adores you and the many precious children you’ll have together.”

There was no helping the tears that rolled down my cheeks as I laughed and cried at the same time.

Never in a millions years did I ever imagine I would find something like this. Sometimes, fate has something better in store than your fanciful dreams. 

I slid my arms around Brandon’s neck, leaning against him as he bent his head low to press kisses across my damp cheeks before catching a runaway tear that caught on the bow of my upper lip. 

“I hope you’re crying because you’re happy,” he murmured with a lopsided smile, his arms tightening around my waist. 

“Of course, I’m happy,” I choked out, blinking my tears back and repressing the sobs rising from inside of me. “Not just because of the house, or the amazing birthday I had, or the fact that we could afford to celebrate one—I’m happy because for the first time in the last twenty years, I don’t feel alone like I did before, simply tallying a number that no one cares about but me. This time, it matters. You and everyone else made it matter and I... I can’t believe how much it means to me, h-having convinced myself all this time that it... it meant nothing.”

I was sobbing my heart out now but I couldn’t stop. 

It wasn’t until the flood gates burst open that I realized how much of it I held back, forced down by my sheer will to stay happy even when I didn’t have a lot of reason to be.

Twenty years of surging through life with hardly a pause or a backward glance‚ like someone on the run, not caring if my feet blistered and bled as long as I got far enough away—from the empty house long abandoned by my supposed family, from the weary ache gnawing at my body and soul because I couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop running and fighting, from the cold wash of realization that drenched me when I stopped for a second and realized how utterly alone I was.

No more. Take a deep breath, rest your feet and let the wounds heal. The next time your feet touched the ground, it’d be to dance and play. 

“I love you,” Brandon whispered, his voice soothing and tender against my small, gasping sobs. “There will never be a day in my life that you won’t matter to me. You’re as vital to me as the next breath I take.”

“I love you, too,” I said as I lifted my head to stare into his warm hazel eyes. “I don’t have the pretty words to say how much because I don’t think I can measure it. It’s just here, in my heart, where I keep you.”

We kissed for several minutes, perhaps forever, but the crackle of a burning log brought us back to reality. 

Brandon grinned as he turned me within his arms to point at the picnic basket laid out near the hearth, next to a folded knit blanket. “Freddy got here ahead of us to bring the food and get the fire started. The heating isn’t fully on around the house yet so I thought we could keep warm by sitting close to the fire.”

I followed Brandon and watched as he shook out the blanket and laid it carefully down on the floor. 

My heart clenched with something fierce while a familiar desire stabbed at my loins, watching the play of shadows on the planes and angles of my husband’s face and the shades of copper that glinted through his hair. 

“I’m hungry,” I said in a strained voice. “Not for food but... something else.”

He looked up at me, his hazel eyes smoldering with the firelight and an equally fiery look of lust as he kept still, watching me slowly slide off my boots. 

He was still crouched down on his knees but it didn’t stop him from running his hands up my bare legs, his fingers leaving a heated trail against my skin. 

I heard his breath hitch as I eased my tight dress up and over my head, tossing it to the floor next to the sweater and shirt that I didn’t even see Brandon discard.

He rose to his feet, pulling me close to him, the large, solid frame of his body surrounding me with warmth.

Dropping a kiss on my shoulder, his hands found the clasp of my lacy bra and deftly unhooked it.

His need pressed boldly through his jeans and with my own fumbling hands, I freed him, letting the hot, velvet feel of him brand the skin on my stomach.

I sucked in my breath the moment his fingers strummed across my hardened nipples as he slowly slid my bra down my shoulders and off my arms.

“Love me here, tonight?” My raspy whisper sounded like a plea but I was past the point of dignity. I ached in all the empty places I needed Brandon to fill and burned where his skin scorched mine. 

A soft smile ghosted across his lips as his large, warm hands settled on the flare of my hips. “I’ll love you here, tonight—everywhere, anywhere, forever.”

It was, truly, the best birthday I’ve ever had.

“Drink number eight now, isn't it?” I asked as Jake swiped another glass of wine from a passing server’s tray. “Do you want us to just hook you up to the bar through an IV and save yourself the trouble of getting more?”

Jake sent me a quick glare as he downed the wine in one gulp. “It’s not funny, Charlotte.”

“No, it’s not, yet here you are, making a joke of yourself,” I muttered as I plucked the empty glass from his hand and handed it to another passing server, yanking Jake away before he could grab another drink. 

It was the evening of the Arts Appreciation dinner and the entire Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum was nearly incandescent with soft, glowing light, and packed full of incredible art pieces and some of the country’s most fashionable patrons.

It was turning out to be a huge success in terms of money raised and art pieces being sold off like they were hotcakes but under the shiny, sparkling surface, trouble brewed.

It started with Layla’s appearance and her tight-lipped behaviour throughout most of the night. She barely spoke to me or looked my way and I had a nagging suspicion it had something to do with the grim-looking Don LeClaire stuck to her side like an ugly, painful wart. Her face didn’t look twice its size anymore and if there were any traces of her injury, her make up artist and stylist hid them well especially with some frilly fascinator nearly hanging down one side of her face. Something was definitely keeping her from reaching out to me and for Riley’s sake, I intended to find out why as soon as I found a chance. I didn’t want to confront her out of the blue and send her scurrying even farther away.

Then there was Nicole’s first foray into the public eye. Brandon and I had been taking turns in taking her around and introducing her to people as a distant part of the Maxfield clan. Francis turned up and kept some distance even though his eyes followed Nicole everywhere she went. 

Despite their heartwarming family reunion on my birthday, we didn’t fully trust Francis quite yet to leave Nicole completely to his care. To his credit though, he neither threw tantrums nor sent snide comments our way—baby steps, even though he was a few years too late.

Finally, there was Jake who arrived in a very good mood, smiling, laughing and greeting everyone with his usual easy charm—until Tessa showed up with a date, whom she introduced to us, right in front of a gaping Jake. His name was Michael and he was a law student attending Yale. He was quite attractive in a preppy way, and while he lacked Jake’s flirty, fun flair, he was certainly friendly enough that no one could hate him on the spot, even Brandon, the ever-protective older brother.

Since then, Jake’s evening, and mine by extension because I was still really the only one who knew about him and Tessa, started going downhill.

“You don’t think I know that?” Jake grumbled as he continued to glare in the direction of Tessa and her date. “I feel pathetic but there’s no helping it, is there?”

I sighed, sympathetic to Jake’s suffering. “Looking like you’re contemplating ways to dismember her date isn’t going to warm you up to Tessa, you know?”

“I’ve known her all her entire twenty years—what else does she need to warm up to me?” Jake’s words were hushed but they were heavy with resentment, which was very uncharacteristic of him. “I’ve had the logical conversation with her and the romantic one. I’ve stopped chasing skirts, not that anything or anyone else has interested me lately. I’ve been a goddamned saint so much that I’m now stacking up halos on my head.”

It wasn’t nice to be amused with Jake’s dilemma so I stamped down on the giggle that nearly burst out of me at his speech.

“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” I said gently. “As you’ve pointed out, Tessa has known you all her life and seeing you act so differently from how you always have is probably more disconcerting to her than it is reassuring. She knows you’re not a saint, Jake, and if you try to convince her that you are, she’s not going to believe you, or anything else you say for that matter.”

“Then how the hell is she supposed to know that I can change?” he demanded impatiently. Good thing we were tucked away in a less crowded corner because even if they couldn’t hear Jake’s quickly fraying temper, they’d be able to feel it.

“I know there’s a very fine line—one that people ignore or miss—but there’s one between changing some of your ways and changing who you are,” I said.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which had lost its polished style over an hour ago, and exhaled sharply. “I’m just so run-down by this now, Char. She and I had the talk after your birthday, you know? I convinced her to let me drive her home. We talked in the car outside of her apartment because she wouldn’t let me walk her up to her door like a gentleman’s supposed to.”

“And?” I prompted on baited breath. 

“And I told her that I might possibly be in love with her.” His entire sentence came out in a rush of breath and he softly groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I told her that while I’ve thought myself in love before, it hasn’t felt this raw or desperate. She looked at me like I killed a bunch of newborn puppies and walked out.”

I would too if you implied that this wasn’t the first time you thought yourself in love. So much for convincing her that you want her for the right reasons and not just because you’re in love with being in love.

“I quickly realized how I must’ve sounded to her so I jumped out and ran after her and stopped her from getting inside,” Jake continued, his suffering looking more acute. “And I kissed her wildly and told her I wanted to be with her. And just like the last time, we stumbled into her bed again and made love. There were no hysterics when we got up in the morning and made breakfast together. She gave me a nice, long kiss before sending me on my way. I thought things were going to be fine after that. I was thinking tonight I was going to maybe talk to Brandon about Tessa so things wouldn’t be too weird but what happens instead? She shows up with a freakin’ date!”

Jake had a few drinks too many but it wasn’t the alcohol that had loosened his mouth but strung him up inside. 

He was hurting.

I didn’t have answers to why Tessa came with a date. I could speculate that maybe her own feelings and the trust Jake was starting to win from her despite her reluctance forced her to flee and fling herself behind a man she could wedge between them to keep the gap from closing. Or maybe she just realized that she didn’t want the same thing Jake wanted and decided that the best way to drop someone was to drop them like a hot potato, no matter the splendid mess it made.

“You’re right. I’m making a sad, pathetic joke out of myself,” he finally said with an abrupt shake of his head. “I think I should go.”

I wasn’t going to argue with him. As much as I’d like for him to stay and enjoy the party, I didn’t want him around the person he was twisting the knife in his heart for. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out and we’ll wait for your driver to come get you,” I told him as I looped my arm through his and yanked his cellphone out of his dinner jacket’s pocket before he could protest.

“What’s his name?” I asked as I scrolled through the contacts list. 

“Terry,” Jake muttered, making lame attempts at civility when some people glanced our way as we walked past and greeted him. 

I held his phone to my ear as it rang while smiling broadly at everyone who nodded and waved hi at me, hoping that I was doing enough to appease those who were getting death stares from Jake.

“Hey, Terry. It’s Charlotte,” I told the driver when he came on the other line. “Jake’s calling it a night. Can you come pick him up, please?”

“I’ll just take a cab,” Jake gritted out but I shut him up with a look. 

“We’ll be waiting outside, right where you dropped him off earlier, okay? Thanks, Terry!”

I caught sight of Brandon frowning in our direction as he stood in a small huddle of other guests including Martin, but I flashed him a reassuring smile and nearly shoved Jake out of view from everyone.

The cloisters, which surrounded the majestic courtyard, was the main event venue, but to get to the entrance, which was at their newly constructed wing, we had to walk through a long glass-encased pathway that cut across the pristine grounds of the property.

“Did you have a coat with you when you came in?” I asked Jake as we passed the coat check but he just shook his head absently.

I suppressed a sigh. 

Jake was always the easy-going type who didn’t lose his cool or space out of a situation. Right now though, he looked like he could walk right in front of a speeding car without blinking. 

“I think, when you get home, you should shut your brain down and get an early night’s sleep,” I told him as we arrived at the new front lobby of the museum. “Try not to think about Tessa tonight. Hopefully, a clear head helps you figure out some answers tomorrow morning.”

He gave me a sardonic glance. “Do you honestly think I can sleep tonight when Tessa’s out with that Mitch guy who looked like he wouldn’t oppose the idea of getting into her pants if the opportunity came up?”

I rolled my eyes. “His name’s Michael and if Tessa decides to spend the night with him, that’s her choice, unfortunately. But remind yourself that Tessa isn’t really the kind of girl who just casually rolls into bed with any guy.”

“She rolled into bed with me,” he retorted, looking more and more agonized that he started pacing, drawing a curious look from the man behind the information desk. 

“Well, you’re not just any guy, Jake,” I told him with an exasperated sigh. “You’re a guy she knows better than most—too well, actually, which I think might be part of the problem—and a guy that she thought she’d foolishly set her heart on when he wasn’t the type to care about that kind of thing.” 

“So you’re saying that my history with her is both a blessing and a curse,” he summarized flatly. 

I smiled tightly and smacked him lightly him on the shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, my friend.”

Jake groaned and dropped down on the cushioned bench by the seating area. 

I sat next to him and kept him company in the next ten minutes until his car pulled up in front of the entrance.

There was usually a handful of media people loitering about the entrance but they got called in about an hour and a half ago for the brief media address that the Society did with them. They were given free reign to cover the event, especially the artworks, and enjoy the food as well so there was barely anyone lingering out in the slight chill of the fall evening, especially since the party was still in full swing.

“Don’t do anything foolish like drunk-dial her or something like that, okay?” I reminded him as I walked him to his waiting car. “Sleep it off and start fresh tomorrow.”

“I might sleep but I’m going to have nightmares,” he grumbled as he slid into the backseat. “I guarantee it.”

I grinned at him and patted his knee. “You’ll survive this, you know, no matter how much it sucks right now. At least, this is proving to be educational for you. You never had it this bad for a girl before, have you?”

He met my eyes sheepishly. “No, not really. Not even with you and you were the first to even make me think about taking relationships seriously.”

“A little suffering can be good for the soul,” I teased him. “It builds fortitude.”

“You are a good friend, you know,” Jake said softly, smiling a little at me. “No matter how things turned out, I was never wrong about what a great girl you are.”

My heart tugged at that and I laughed lightly. “You won’t always feel that way about me, especially when I give you advice that doesn’t match up with what you want.”

“Like going home and letting Tessa be for the rest of the evening?” he asked sulkily. “When all I want to do is punch that grin off that Mitch-guy’s face and throw her over my shoulder?”

“Once again, his name is Michael and yes, exactly like that,” I said with a wink. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

“I know, I know,” he said, sighing in resignation. “Goodnight, Charlotte. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“I will,” I promised him as I straightened to let Terry close the car door. “Goodnight.”

I stood for a minute and watched Jake’s car drive away before turning around to head back to the party.

I was just about to walk back into the main lobby when my cellphone sounded off from inside my black envelope clutch.

I frowned as I read the call display. It was a number I had to save but had hoped to never need to call.

“Danny? What’s wrong?” I asked as a sense of foreboding washed over me. 

“Has Riley contacted you?” he asked, sounding rushed and distracted. “Have you seen him at all today?”

My heart started to pound and I stopped in my tracks as soon as I got through the front door. “No, I haven’t seen him. And he hasn’t called me at all. What’s going on?”

“The neighbor who usually checks in on him every now and then said that he hasn’t seen the boy come home from school and no one’s answering at the apartment when she tried the door,” Danny explained, the worry clear in his voice. “I’m working the late shift tonight at the shop and I thought I’d maybe check with you and Layla first before I head out to look for him, just in case he’s with either of you. It’s a new job and I don’t want to get fired if it’s nothing.”

It wasn’t that late, only a little past eight, but it was late and dark enough to make me worry about a twelve-year-old boy wandering the streets.

“Have you spoken with Layla?” I asked, trying to clear my imagination of morbid possibilities.

“Yeah, I just called her and told her,” Danny said with a deep, weary sigh. “She hasn’t heard from him either. The school usually calls if something happened but I don’t have anything. He usually just takes the bus home and... I don’t know where he is, Charlotte.”

Surging to my feet, I started striding back into the hallway. “Does he have kids he usually hangs out with? Kids or friends from school he spends—Oof!”

I collided with another body and nearly fell back on my butt if I didn’t catch my balance just at the last second.

Bracing a hand against the wall next to me, I straightened myself and looked up at the person I just body-slammed.

“Layla?” I stared at the woman who was dressed like a beauty queen in a deep blue, floor-length silk dress she had on. Her hair and make up were perfect, the sparkling diamond jewelry was perfect—in fact, she looked exactly as one would imagine the formidable and fabulous Layla LeClaire—except that her light blue eyes were wide with fear, the blood slowly leeching out of her complexion.

“Riley’s missing,” she stammered, clutching my arm. “I have to go find him. Danny called and... and I... h-he’s missing, Charlotte! I don’t know where Riley is!”

Her panic jolted me back into reality and I gripped her elbow firmly as if it would somehow keep her from crumpling to the floor. “I know, I know. I have Danny on the phone, okay? Hang on.”

“Hey, Danny,” I said as I put the phone back to my ear again. “Text me whatever name and address you’ve got of some of Riley’s friends, okay? Layla and I are going to go look for him.”

Before he could protest, I hung up and faced Layla. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’re going to go find him.”

My reassurances barely did anything to quell the wild look of panic in her eyes but I paid it no additional attention before I led her to the coat check. 

“Hand me your ticket,” I instructed her as I pulled out mine from my clutch. “Let’s go.”

“But what about the party?” she managed to ask as we shrugged on our coat and jacket.

Mine was a cropped, black leather motorcycle jacket which didn’t really do too much for me except cover my bare arms. I was in a one-of-a-kind Vienne gown, a gift from Noli and Vivienne. It was the perfect outfit for an arts appreciation dinner—one I was going to now mostly miss.

“The event planners are doing a great job of running the show,” I told her, our heels clicking on the tiled floor as we hurried back to front lobby. “Hopefully, we won’t be gone for too long. I’ll call Brandon and tell him we had to do a last-minute run or something like that for the party.”

Her lips pressed into a grim line as we practically leapt out of the museum and out to the sidewalk. 

We had to walk down a couple yards away to the corner of the street where we could hopefully spot a taxi. 

“I hope Don doesn’t notice I’m gone,” Layla rattled on in a shudder of a breath. “He’s going to lose it on me if he finds out. He’s had me practically locked in my room all week before tonight!”

“Your husband is one sick bastard,” I muttered in disgust before I stepped out and stuck my fingers into my mouth to blow a hard whistle at a cab about to coast by.

The cab stopped and the passenger seat window rolled down.

I beamed at the middle-aged driver as leaned against the window. “Hi, we need to head out to Dorchester and I’ll have an exact address for you in a few minutes here, as soon as I get the text message. Let me just get—”

“No!”

My sentence came to an abrupt stop at the shrill cry from Layla and I whipped around just in time to see Don yank again at her arm so hard it almost looked like it was twisted backwards.

“Just one second, okay?” I told the cab driver before I marched toward the struggling couple, my vision narrowed by a red haze. 

“...you think you’re going anywhere, huh?” the man was hissing at Layla as he tried to drag her back into the building. We were far enough away from the museum’s entrance that any of the front desk staff wouldn’t be able to see or hear us. 

Layla was sobbing fully now as she tried to writhe free from his near chokehold on her. “...please, Don, I have to find my s-son...”

“Hey!” I yelled at him as my steps picked up. “Let go of her, you brute!”

Don looked up at me and sneered. “Well, if it isn’t the ever-interfering gutter rat again.”

“At your service,” I retorted with a sly smile before I thrust my foot out in a swift kick that caught him right on the shin. 

Thank God for non-constraining skirts and outrageous shoes.

He howled in pain, thanks to my incredibly awesome leather booties that sported high heels the size and sharpness of a small dagger. 

Clumsily, he released Layla as he hopped up and down, clutching his leg in pain.

“Come on, get up!” I told Layla as I caught her hand and pulled her up to her feet next to me.

“You fucking bitch!” Don growled with an expression as black as his empty soul before he straightened his leg to attempt to charge at me.

I swept an arm back to keep Layla away as I hobbled on one foot, slipping off one of my boots.

“Go for it!” I spat out at him, holding my boot upside down in front of him, the pointy heel aimed at his direction. “I’ll gladly give you a frontal lobotomy and make soup out of your brain. Come on. My hand’s getting twitchy.”

Layla gasped at my taunt but stood her ground next to me.

Don’s face twisted into a nasty smile as he rubbed a hand along his jaw. There was a bit of blood on his fingers and he glanced down at it with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I won’t make you pay for this, Charlotte.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “And don’t think I won’t be waiting to match up your shins. The offer for the frontal lobotomy will remain open anytime you feel like it. Or we could arrange for something much, much worse.”

“Charlotte,” Layla’s warning was low but urgent as she clutched my elbow to slowly pull me away from her husband. “We have to go.”

“You’re making a very grave mistake, Layla,” Don drawled, piercing his wife with a cold, steely glare. “I’d hate for you to pay the consequences but you will if you disobey me.”

I rolled my eyes at him in exaggerated disbelief even as the anger roiled inside me like a volcano about to shoot up a load of lava that would incinerate anything in its path. “How can she pass that up, buddy, when you offer her so much incentive to go do your bidding? Oh, how can a girl choose between being your chattel and your punching bag? Why make a choice when she can be both for you?”

“I’d stop talking if I were you,” Don grated with deadly intent. “Your husband needs a firmer hand with you, Charlotte, but if he can’t supply it, I’d be happy to wring your pretty little neck for you.”

I raised a brow at him, scoffing. “You can try but you might be too busy picking up your nuts from the floor when I twist them off you and try to decide whether I should feed them to the dogs for scraps. But wait! Our dear canine friends don’t actually eat scumbags—it causes some metabolism issues, I believe.”

Don’s lips nearly disappeared into a thin line just right before he lunged for us. 

“Get in the cab!” I yelled to Layla, pushing her forward into the backseat as I scrambled to get in behind her with one foot bare and another tottering about five inches higher than its mate. 

I was just about to leap into the cab when a hand grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back.