Chapter 6: The Man Who Grabbed Her
1400 Words
“You did this because of me.”
Dominic’s voice carried a strange mixture of satisfaction and accusation.
Maren looked at him.
For one second, she genuinely wondered whether the alcohol had damaged his ability to reason.
Then she pulled her wrist from his hand.
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not.”
“You were devastated when Arabella came back.”
“I was humiliated because you lied to me.”
“You loved me.”
“The woman you knew made several bad decisions.”
Dominic stepped closer.
Maren could see the conclusion settling into his mind. The bandage, her sudden coldness, the marriage—he was arranging all of it into a story in which he remained the center of her life.
“You hurt yourself because I chose Arabella,” he said.
Maren stared at him.
“Your confidence should be studied in a laboratory.”
“Maren.”
“You lied about being poor, spent my money, hid our relationship, and went running back to another woman the second she returned.”
His jaw tightened.
“You knew Arabella and I had history.”
“I knew what you told me.”
“I never promised to marry you.”
“No. You just promised everything else.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened.
Once, that look would have made her soften. She would have panicked, apologized, and tried to prove she still understood him.
Maren only felt tired.
“My car is here.”
She turned toward the curb.
Dominic caught her arm again.
“You’re not leaving until we finish this conversation.”
“We finished it when I blocked you.”
“Maren, stop pretending.”
“I have a husband.”
“You don’t love him.”
“That doesn’t make me yours.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“Neither did you.”
The arriving car stopped beside them.
The driver glanced through the windshield, clearly uncertain whether to intervene.
Dominic moved as if he intended to follow her inside.
Maren opened the rear door, then turned.
“Don’t.”
His mouth twisted.
“You think Ravenscroft will protect you forever?”
“I think he understands the word no.”
Dominic reached for the door.
Maren drove the heel of her shoe into his shin.
He recoiled with a curse.
She pushed him back with both hands, climbed into the car, and pulled the door shut.
Dominic grabbed the handle.
The lock clicked before he could open it.
“Drive,” Maren told the driver.
The car pulled away.
Through the rear window, she saw Dominic standing at the curb, one hand pressed against his leg, fury burning across his face.
Maren sank into the seat.
Her heart was beating too fast.
Not from regret.
From anger.
For months, this body had learned to mistake Dominic’s cruelty for complicated love.
It was not.
He simply liked having someone beneath him.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
You’ll come back when you stop being dramatic.
Maren blocked that number too.
“Persistent parasite,” she muttered.
The driver glanced at her through the mirror.
“Mrs. Ravenscroft?”
“Nothing. Please keep driving.”
By the time she reached the Ravenscroft residence, the wine had settled into a warm heaviness behind her eyes.
Arthur opened the door.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Ravenscroft.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
She stepped inside and nearly walked into Lucian.
He stood at the base of the staircase, one hand resting in his trouser pocket. His tie was gone, and the sleeves of his white shirt had been folded neatly to his forearms.
Maren stopped.
Lucian looked at her.
Then his gaze shifted to the faint redness around her arm where Dominic had grabbed her.
“Something happened.”
It was not a question.
Maren glanced down.
“Nothing important.”
Lucian’s eyes lifted to her face.
She could still smell Dominic’s cologne on her sleeve.
Lucian probably could too.
His expression did not change, but something in the room did.
“Were you drinking?”
“A little.”
“With whom?”
“My friend Chloe.”
“And the man?”
Maren blinked.
“What man?”
“The one whose cologne is on you.”
She raised her arm and sniffed the fabric.
A mistake.
The sharp scent made her wrinkle her nose.
“Dominic found me outside Chloe’s house.”
Lucian’s gaze sharpened.
“Did he touch you?”
“He grabbed my arm.”
Silence.
Maren looked at him more carefully.
There was no visible anger, but his stillness had become absolute.
“He won’t do it again,” she added. “I handled it.”
“How?”
“I stepped on him.”
Lucian’s gaze dropped briefly to her shoes.
Maren lifted one shoulder.
“They’re more practical than they look.”
Arthur turned his face away.
Lucian remained unreadable.
“He followed you?”
“He found me. I don’t know how.”
“Did you tell him where you were?”
“No.”
“Did Chloe?”
“She hates him more than I do.”
Lucian took out his phone.
Maren immediately understood.
“You don’t need to do anything.”
His eyes met hers.
“I decide what I need to do when someone puts his hands on my wife.”
The words hit with more force than they should have.
My wife.
Not a Ravenscroft.
Not the woman attached to an agreement.
His wife.
Maren forced herself not to overinterpret it.
This was probably about responsibility. Reputation. Security.
Lucian spoke quietly into the phone, instructing someone to determine how Dominic had found her and whether he had been following her movements.
He ended the call.
“Until we know how he located you, you will use a Ravenscroft driver.”
“I already did tonight.”
“You ordered the car after leaving the house.”
“Yes.”
“That means there was a period when no one knew where you were.”
Maren folded her arms.
“I’m an adult.”
“I am aware.”
“Then you know I can visit a friend without reporting my location.”
“You can.”
His voice remained level.
“But if a man with a history of controlling you can find you on the street, your current precautions are insufficient.”
Maren opened her mouth.
Closed it.
That was annoyingly reasonable.
Lucian looked at her flushed cheeks.
“No more drinking alone at night.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“No more leaving private gatherings without a driver.”
“That sounds different from what you first said.”
“It is more precise.”
Maren considered arguing.
Then she remembered Dominic’s hand around her arm.
“Fine.”
Lucian’s eyebrow moved slightly.
“Fine?”
“Yes. Request received.”
“It was not a request.”
“Instruction received.”
Arthur coughed softly.
Maren looked at Lucian.
“I’ll cooperate. For professional reasons.”
His gaze lingered on her.
“Professional.”
“This marriage is an arrangement. I take my responsibilities seriously.”
Lucian said nothing.
Maren decided that meant the conversation was over.
She turned toward the stairs.
“Good night.”
“Your room is to the left.”
She stopped.
“I knew that.”
“You went right.”
Maren changed direction without looking back.
Behind her, Arthur remained silent until her door closed.
Then he glanced at Lucian.
“Should I have the security team increase coverage?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. Sinclair?”
“Find out how he located her.”
Arthur nodded.
Lucian looked toward the upper floor.
The scent of another man still lingered faintly in the air.
He disliked it.
That reaction was inconvenient.
He had no reason to care whom Maren met outside the house, provided she did not create a public scandal or compromise the Ravenscroft family.
Dominic Sinclair was part of her past.
Lucian had known that before the marriage.
Yet the image of another man gripping her arm had settled like a weight beneath his ribs.
“Sir?”
Lucian turned away.
“Nothing.”
Arthur did not believe him.
He was wise enough not to say so.
- Writer
