It’s time I finally leave him.
Like, for real this time.
Not just think about it.
Because I work from home, I have no friends in our town apart from Dillan’s, and they are loyal to him, not me. My parents are traveling in their camper van, and my friends from home all have lives that don’t include me anymore—and I can’t blame them. Dillan never lets me see them anyway, so I put my everything into Dillan.
Even when I shouldn’t.
Meeting Dillan I always thought he was different. My friends back home are still in the same place they were when I left—selling on the streets, no jobs, or doing things they shouldn’t. I fell into their crowds. And I loved it, despite everything. Doing shit you shouldn’t be doing is a thrill, and don’t we all love a thrill. Except, I knew eventually I’d have to grow up, and when I did, I left all that behind me.
But as I look at Dillan I wonder, what does he give me?
Actually …
… not much.
My eyes scan the area as I search again, and all I see is an orgy club.
I walk over to the bar, sit down, and wave down the bartender behind the counter.
“Do you have scissors?”
He raises an eyebrow, and I hold up my wrist. “You aren’t allowed to remove that in here,” he responds, then taps his hand on the bar. “What do you want to drink?”
“I want a pair of damn scissors,” I tell him again.
He shakes his head and walks off, effectively dismissing me.
“You get dragged here or something?” a dark voice asks. Whirling around on my stool, there’s a man leaning over the bar with a phone in his hand. I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at him. He’s not looking at me, so I can’t tell you what color his eyes are, but from my guess, I would say they’re as dark as his voice. I’ve heard dark voices before. His, though, is mixed with a smoothness like silk. It slides straight from his tongue to where I am with no hesitation.
As I continue to scan him, I note the expensive suit that’s tailored to perfection for his body, his jacket over the back of the chair, and he’s wearing a button-up shirt. He’s actually the only person in here wearing anything at all, and I have to wonder why.
As his strong arms tense while he waits for my answer, I remember he is nothing like Dillan. Dillan is clean-cut with a soft voice. So why, as my eyes reach this man’s black shirt rolled up to his elbows, do I feel an instant attraction to him when he’s nothing like my husband?
“Pretty much,” I reply, finally remembering to answer his question.
His lip turns upward into a slight smirk, and my heart pitter-patters in response. Slowly, he turns, placing his phone down, and it’s then I realize he’s sporting a red wristband.
I want one of those, I immediately think to myself.
He notices where my eyes are and raises a brow. His eyes are dark, like looking into a black abyss.
He lifts his wrist. “You want one?” I bite my lip and look away, trying to find my husband, but don’t see him anywhere. At least this explains why he always smells of other women. It’s clearly not his first time here.
“I’d rather leave,” I tell him, forcing a smile as I look back in his direction. His eyes turn darker if that’s even possible while his mouth sets into a grim line, and he looks away, taking his attention away from me as he goes back to his phone.
Did I make him angry?
Who cares, Sailor? You aren’t here to please anyone.
Taking a deep breath, I stand from the stool and look up the stairs.
I need to leave.
This is it—I can’t do this anymore.
I’ve made up my mind.
“Sailor.” I turn to my name uttered by my husband’s voice. When I fix my gaze on him, he has a split lip. I make a move to touch him, to see if he’s okay, but drop my hand back down to my side.
Nope.
He does not deserve my concern.
He scrubs his hand over his face. “Sailor, I really fucked up.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
Dillan shakes his head, and his eyes focus on something over my shoulder. When I turn to see what’s caught his attention, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome is off his phone and hovering directly behind me.
“She will do, won’t she?” Dillan asks him.
At his words, I scrunch up my nose, trying to register them. He didn’t just say what I think he did, did he?
“Yes.”
I swing my head around back to the man, who is now watching me. His eyes fully take in every detail of me, from every curve of my body to every feature on my face, assessing me as if I am his. Or something soon to be owned by him.
Which is worse, I’m not sure yet.
“What have you done, Dillan?” I ask on a shaky voice as two other men come and stand on either side of me.
“I had to. I just …” He shakes his head. “I don’t need you anymore.”
“What?” My brain is having difficulty registering everything around me. As my so-called husband continues to talk, white noise flutters around inside my brain, and I have trouble taking in his words.
“I sold you, Sailor. I’m sorry.”
What does that even mean? You can’t just sell someone, especially someone you love. How is this even possible? My hands ball to fists at my sides as I stare at Dillan, and he simply turns and walks away without another word of explanation. I go to follow him, to scream at him, tell him I’m not his to sell or bargain with, but two strong and overpowering men step in my way to block my path as Dillan disappears from my view.
“Move!” I yell at them.
They don’t, of course.
My hands go to one of the giant’s chests and I try to push with everything I have, but he ignores me completely, looking past me without flinching a muscle.
“I’m not his.”
“No, you are mine.”
There’s that dark voice again.
Hands go around my waist and he turns me so I am facing him, his hard, broad shoulders come into my vision and it takes everything in me not to cry or drop to the ground.
“I am definitely not yours.” I spit at him.
He wipes my spit from his face then looks me dead in the eye, his hands are fast to reach for me and he throws me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I scream out, my hands banging on his back.
“No can do.” He slaps my ass to quieten me, but I just scream louder. “I like it when they scream. Tell me, will you like it when I make you scream?”
Before I can say anything back, he looks at his men and says, “Buttala fuori.” <Knock her out.> Then hands are over my face, and everything goes black as I breathe in something that’s not air.
It’s still on my wrist. That’s the first thing I notice when I wake.
The second is that I’m not alone.
My hands instantly go to my dress to make sure it’s on, and when I feel everything intact, I sigh in relief. But the relief is short-lived when I hear slight huffing noises.
Do I even want to turn around to see what that sound is?
I wait a few beats to see if he speaks, but he doesn’t, and I don’t want to turn to face him either. It’s just a bad dream, right? This doesn’t happen in real life. Who sells their wife? And why would anyone want to buy me?