Ruthless Salvation

33

Past

“IVAN’S WIFE SEEMS NICE.” IF YOU WERE INTO BEAUTIFUL AND ALOOF—SHE hardly said five words all evening. Her English wasn’t great, but that hardly stopped the other wives and girlfriends I’d been introduced to in the past eight months. At least they smiled and tried to be friendly. I’d even become close with a couple. It felt so good to have female companionship again, especially since Damyon had been on edge ever since we’d returned from the trip to Paris he’d surprised me with two weeks ago.

“She was rather stunning, yet I noticed Ivan could not take his eyes off you.” His menacing undertones put me on alert.

I’d thought we’d put this sort of behavior behind us. He hadn’t stepped a toe out of line for months. But his temper had resurfaced, and I found myself constantly monitoring his moods and my actions. The last thing I wanted was to set him off, but it was so hard to tell sometimes what might flip that switch. I’d even begun to question whether staying had been the right decision.

“He probably wondered why someone as devastatingly handsome as you had picked a country bumpkin like me,” I teased, hoping to lighten his mood.

“Or he was enjoying the way your t**s were on display.” His icy stare drifted down to my cleavage. “I knew I should have made you change before we left the house. You looked like a whore.”

My shoulders curled in as my hand drifted up to cover my chest. I wasn’t sure anyone had ever said something so hateful to me in my entire life. I wanted to wrap myself in a blanket to keep the downpour of shame from soaking me to the bone.

“You don’t mean that,” I whispered, eyes cast down to the floor. My chest had filled out the dress, but I hadn’t thought it was distasteful.

“I did not say you were one. Do not get melodramatic with me.” He walked dismissively to the crystal decanter full of his favorite vodka and poured himself a drink. “When you take that off, I expect to see it in the trash where it belongs.”

Tears pooled in my eyes as I walked away.

This was not how a relationship should be. I wrote off the incidents early on, but I couldn’t accept this type of behavior if it was going to be a pattern. He was like two different men. I adored the devoted man I first met, but this darker side of Damyon was terrifying. Hurtful. I needed some time to think. I needed my Honey.

Two hours later, I was curled up in bed when Damyon joined me. I’d been rehearsing what I wanted to say over and over in my head, but the words were still fragile and uncertain when I spoke.

“I was thinking, and I’d really like to take a short visit back home. I miss my friends, and that’s been weighing on me. It’s made me sensitive.” I hoped that if I made it sound like the conflict between us was my fault, he might be more agreeable. No matter how perfectly I worded my request, however, I fully expected resistance.

“You have a credit card. If you feel you need to take a trip, you’re welcome to make the arrangements.”

I turned to face him in my surprise. I’d been certain he would be upset.

“I knew there’d come a time when you wanted to go back,” he explained.

“Just for a visit. I’d love to see my family and friends and eat my weight in fried chicken.” My voice was light and carefree. I wanted to reassure him in every way possible that he was making the right choice.

Damyon clicked off his bedside lamp and lay on his side facing away from me. “Do what you need to do, moya angel.”

By turning away, was he showing me his displeasure? He’d used my pet name—my angel—and that was usually a good sign, but what if I was wrong? Could this possibly be a test?

When he was in this sort of mood, I overanalyzed everything he said and did, trying to gauge how he might be feeling and how careful I needed to be. I went round and round for what felt like hours before finally deciding to take the chance and trust that he meant what he’d said.

First thing the following morning, I booked a flight for the next day. The ticket was expensive, but Damyon had been insistent since we met that pinching pennies was an insult, as though he couldn’t support me. He said it would make others think he was weak, so he was adamant I shopped at only the finest stores. A last-minute first-class plane ticket was nothing compared to the cost of some of the jewelry I now owned.

I had everything packed that night, and the following morning, one of our security guards took me to the airport. I was filled with so much excitement and trepidation that my stomach was a churning pit of nerves.

I’d hoped Damyon would take me to the airport himself. It would have gone a long way to reassure me he wasn’t upset about the trip. Instead, he’d been eerily distant. His mood scared me, but what was done was done. I could only hope the small time apart would smooth things over between us.

Once at the airport, I wound my way through security, pulling my carryon bag with my passport in hand. When it was my turn, I handed over the booklet and smiled at the balding man with skin so weathered it was almost leather. He muttered something in Russian.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said with a pleading smile.

He shook his head, handed the book back to me, then waved me back to where I’d come from.

“What do you mean? Why can’t I go through?” Trepidation sent my stomach plummeting into my Jimmy Choos.

Another member of airport security joined us as the people behind me in line grew agitated at the delay. The two men talked before the new guy took my passport, opened it to the main page, and said a single word.

“Expired.”

“What? No, that can’t be right. It’s brand new.” The dang thing was supposed to be good for ten years. When I looked at the date, I saw that they were right even though I specifically remembered looking at the expiration when I first received the passport and knew the date as shown wasn’t what it had said back then.

The lady behind me pushed forward, muttering something harshly.

I stumbled back down the line, bumping into people in a baffled haze. How had this happened? What was I supposed to do if my passport was expired? Did I go to the US embassy?

Before I could come up with an answer, I emerged from the security line to see Damyon standing near the airport entrance, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

He knew.

He’d let me go because he knew I couldn’t get anywhere. This had all been for my benefit, so I’d know he had me trapped.

Dear God.

I tried to swallow past the terror lodged in my throat. It was no use. Even if I could speak, I didn’t know what I’d say. There were no words for this situation.