I opened my mouth, but the words refused to come out.
And then I didn’t need to say them, because Edward kissed the side of my head before dropping his hand and stepping away. “Take a bit of time to think. We have a few days before I need to leave. I can’t stay past Sunday, though. I’ll need your answer by then.”
He pulled his cell from his pocket and turned the light on. He’d made it to the door before he turned back and nodded toward the stove. “By the way, the knives are there. Top drawer to the right.”
Then, by the light of his cell phone, he left me, with the lamp, in the kitchen, with a drawer of knives he knew I’d never be brave enough to use.
Four
The power was back in the morning. In the daylight, with the storm over, I could think more clearly. Yes, I was trapped on the island, but only while we were on the island. All I had to do was agree to Edward’s fucked-up game, and, as soon as we were back in London, there would be plenty of opportunities to get away. Not everyone worked for Edward. Not everyone was on his side.
When I woke up, I considered telling him right away, just to get it over with, but as I opened my door to go look for him, I thought better of it. It was Wednesday morning. If I agreed now, that gave him four days to begin “breaking me down” before we left Amelie. If I waited until the last minute, he couldn’t do anything until we were back in the UK, and even if he got ambitious and attempted something on the plane, it would be far less abuse for me to suffer than if he got a head start.
So I shut the door and undertook a very different mission than my previous one—avoid my husband.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but this mission was much harder than the last. While he’d been nearly impossible to find in the first week of our honeymoon, now he was there at every turn. In the pool, on the beach, reading on the lanai—all the places I’d adopted as my hangouts when he’d locked himself away in his library. Whatever time I arrived at the kitchen for breakfast, he’d show up soon after. The same thing happened at lunch. By Friday, I was taking most of my meals by myself. I was barely leaving my room at all.
Dinner was the one occasion I had to spend in his presence. He’d never said so, exactly, but the staff still gathered for the meal, and my absence would be something he’d have to explain.
Not that I cared much about inconveniencing the man. Just, it didn’t feel like I was in a position to piss him off.
Besides, being around the staff felt safe, even if they all were under Edward’s employ. And they were nice, too. Fun. The women had lived very different lives than I had and were not the type of friends I’d pick if I were to choose, but, in reality, I’d never picked friends well, which was maybe what made their differences refreshing. Tom, Dreya, and Eliana especially fascinated me. They were always in a humorous mood in stark contrast to my constant seriousness. Their jokes were often crude and they teased incessantly, but their intentions were kind, and I enjoyed their company more than I liked to admit.
Joette, whose cooking had attracted Edward in the first place, was a particular favorite. She was about a decade older than my mother, and nothing like the woman who’d raised me, or, rather, the woman who’d paid a full-time nanny to do the work for her. Madge Werner was the quintessential socialite, an elitist, always at the ready with a snide remark and a fake smile. I loved her, of course I did, and we were close in many aspects, but it was never easy spending time with her. My stomach was always knotted in her presence, my back always straight, my mind constantly aware and waiting for her next attack.
Joette was everything Madge wasn’t. She was expressive and warm, her smile always wide and genuine. When I retreated to my room, she checked in on me without making me feel like my privacy had been invaded. She was attentive without smothering. Curious but not nosy. And her cooking was absolutely divine. She’d be the thing I missed most when I was free of Edward.
Not the only thing, but I didn’t like to think about that enough to name what those other things might be.
After dinner was where things became tricky. Previously, when I’d been desperate for Edward’s attention, he’d disappear with the men into the library as soon as the meal was over. Now, everyone remained together. The sliding glass wall would be opened up to the patio, alcohol would be poured, cigars would be brought out, and the socializing would continue well into the night.
Edward was still himself in these instances, still composed and well-bred, but it was a more relaxed version of the man I’d been exposed to. His smile came naturally, meeting his eyes more often than not. He wasn’t particularly chatty or entertaining, but he was engaged, and if a stranger had walked into the group, it would be obvious to him that Edward was the most important figure of the bunch. It was in the way the others angled their bodies, the way they looked to him for approval, the way they attended to his drink.
It made sense, of course. He was the one with the money. He was the one who paid the bills and owned the island and everything—everyone?—on it. But I had the feeling that the reaction to him would have been the same even if his name wasn’t on the land title. He had a certain air about him, a magnetism, an authority that exuded from his very being, daring anyone to challenge him as king. As the devil.
Sometimes, seeing him like this, recognizing this about him, I was surprised that I’d ever dared to provoke him. That I’d dare to again if given the right opportunity, at the right time.
That time wasn’t now. This was his show, and I let it be.
While the rest of the couples intermingled, Edward would invariably find a spot near me. He’d hand me a brandy then rest his arm next to me, his hand casually placed on my knee, and behind the laughs and the camaraderie, no one had any idea that I was a captive. That my husband had issued the gravest of threats. That his hold on me, a sure sign of ownership, had my heart pounding against my chest with trepidation.
Maybe not just trepidation. Maybe his touch did more to me than that. Still. Even now.
I didn’t know what to expect after our guests left for their own residences. If his hand would rise higher up my thigh, between my legs, if his mouth would seek again to find mine. The minute someone yawned or initiated cleaning up, I excused myself to my bedroom so I wouldn’t be left alone with the man I’d married. I didn’t want to know what would happen if I stayed, and, thank God, he never followed me to my room.
Until Saturday night, the night before he’d told me he needed to leave.
I’d packed my bags earlier, quietly, careful not to draw his attention. I wanted to be ready to go in the morning, as soon as I gave him my answer about his offer. The luggage was stowed away in my closet, out of sight. The evening had proceeded as usual with the dinner and mingling. As soon as Marge had looked at Erris with that look that said, Is it time to go?, I made my own farewells and slipped away to my room. There, I’d showered in my ensuite, then, with a towel on my head and another wrapped around me, I wandered to my bedroom in search of body lotion.
I found Edward instead.
The entire time we’d been on the island, he’d never once entered my rooms, and seeing him there now, sitting in my armchair, his leg nonchalantly crossed at the ankle over the other knee made me startle. Made my stomach flip. Made my knees go weak.