But once night descends…
He comes to me in the dark, when I’m in that state of half sleeping and half awake. He takes me hard, but he doesn’t kiss me or drive me like he is punishing me. It’s as though he’s on a mission to exorcise a demon from his mind.
The first night, I told him I loved him, and he quickly put a hand over my mouth. Since then he always muffles my declaration with his palm or mouth.
I might resist if he were a selfish lover, but he isn’t. He always painstakingly coaxes my body to mind-obliterating orgasms. And now I’m so primed for him that I grow wet every time I sense him slip into bed. Pavlov’s wife.
Even as I lie in the dark, my body sated and covered in sweat, I know something has to change soon or I’m going to go mad. Maybe other women can continue like this, but not me.
Saturday morning, a dress box arrives. It has my name outside on the otherwise spotless matte black exterior, and its sleek look reminds me of the place Josephine took me to replace my wardrobe. I take it to the bedroom and open it. Inside is a note:
Thought this would look best for tonight. Let me know if you have any questions.
–J
I stare at the floor-length ice-blue gown. The color will contrast beautifully against my hair. There’s only one thin strap to hold the dress up, and the rich silk will flow over me, skimming every curve. It’s obvious I won’t be able to wear anything underneath, and I can see why Josephine thought it would look good on me because it will. I’m just not sure why I need it toni—
“I see you got Josephine’s package.”
My head snaps up at Elliot’s comment. His voice is devoid of emotion, and the indifference slices me. I push the pain aside; there’s not a lot I can do about it at the moment, especially with Nonny right downstairs. “Do you know what this is for?”
“Elizabeth’s charity dinner. It’s tonight.”
“What charity dinner?”
“The one Amandine mentioned.”
Now I remember. When we dined together at her home, Amandine asked if we were going to attend. “I thought we weren’t going.”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“Things have…happened since then.”
“That doesn’t mean we get to back out. Elizabeth’s expecting us.”
Of course. Elliot would hate to disappoint his sister. He loves her, trusts her with everything.
And as petty as it is, I’m envious of Elizabeth for having that special place in his heart. I’m beginning to see how precious and rare his trust is. “Elliot—”
His heavy sigh cuts me off. “If you really don’t want to go, we can cancel. I can tell her I’m not feeling well.”
I almost want to. Being out in public and pretending that we’re fine is going to take a lot out of me, but I recall what Traci said. Maybe it’ll be good to be forced into acting like a loving, newly wedded couple. If nothing else, it’ll remind Elliot we had something amazing just a week ago. “Of course not.”
“Then you need to get ready,” he says. “You have a full spa treatment. I emailed you the confirmation, with directions.”
“I have all day.” I drop the dress back in the box, unable to bear it. “Can we talk? It’s been a week—”
“You need to hurry.” He’s looking right through me, and he might as well be filleting me with a fish knife. “We’re flying up to San Francisco. She’s hosting the dinner at the Sterlings’ Bay Area mansion.”
He turns around, and I tell his retreating back, “One day, Elliot, I’m the one who might not want to talk.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he heard me from the way he hesitates for a fraction of a moment before shutting the door behind him.
Sighing roughly, I force myself to get up and go to the spa. It’s more or less unavoidable if I don’t want to embarrass myself at the event. The kind of people who drop tens of thousands of dollars without a thought spend a lot of money and time to be seen and admired.
By the time the spa people have worked on me for a few hours, I look like I’m a model about to strut down the runway. The only thing we disagreed on was the nail color. They wanted something more newlywed-like—dreamy and soft—and I wanted an assertive, bold color…maybe something like blood red. But the style coordinator insisted it would look too garish, especially with the blu
e dress. So we compromised on a glossy, dark coral. The staff keeps remarking how beautiful I am. But I feel woefully unprepared for what’s to come, a public event where I’m supposed to pretend I’m happy and not at all bothered by what the media is saying about me.