She sighed, her hand resting on her stomach. “I need you to help me get out of here.”
“Is someone after Brandon? Did something go sideways? I can take care of that for you and him.” I squeezed her arm lightly. “Now that I’m back, I can add security detail for you. I have more resources than the Castilles. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t need security detail.”
“But you just said—”
Her eyes blinked open. The lashes were damp with the first tears. “I said I need your help to leave, not to stay and be locked in a prison.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
She broke away from the stallion. “I don’t know if it’s going to be safe for the baby and me to be here once Brandon finds out, but regardless, I have to leave. I have to get out of here. I want to go to France and run the vineyards.”
I inhaled. “Tell me what he’s done.”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “He’s done absolutely nothing.”
“Shit, Seraphina. I’m starting to think he’s abusive or drinking until he passes out every night. Cheating on you.” I stared at her. It was the last sentence that made her flinch. “Is that it?” I tried to figure out how to talk to her what would probably not be the last time Brandon cheated.
“Stop, Knight. Just stop.” She threw her hands in the air and stormed away toward one of the apartment doors. She walked inside and I followed her.
I didn’t expect it to be decorated in soft blues and off-white antiques. There was art on the walls and two cases crammed full of books. I pivoted in the room. “Who lives here?”
“It’s mine.”
“What?”
“This is my place. My sanctuary. Can you believe my husband has never stepped foot in here? Never asked. Never noticed. I hate the Castille house. I hate living with Brandon. I knew what was expected of me. Daddy made that clear on the day of my wedding. I’ve done what I had to do to get out of bed in the morning every day for four years. Until…”
“Until what?”
“Until I met someone.”
“What do you mean you met someone?”
Her shoulders straightened immediately. “I didn’t know it was possible, and it wasn’t like I was looking for him, or maybe I was. But he’s the one.”
“The one?” I stared at her. “What are you talking about? You’re married to Brandon. There was a contract. Money was exchanged. Brandon is supposed to be the one.”
Her blue eyes hardened. “No,” she snapped. “I had no say in the contract. No say in Brandon. No say in the house. No say in my life.” Her voice kept rising. I closed to the door to the apartment in case one of the stable hands was nearby.
I put my hands out to steady her. “I know all of that. I was there, remember?”
“And you did nothing while I was sold off to the most boring bland man in New Orleans.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “I fought to get you out of it. I guess Dad didn’t tell you I had him in a chokehold on his desk.”
The information surprised her. “No. He never said anything.”
“He wouldn’t.” I finally exhaled. “Shit. You’ve met someone.” I shook my head. “Who’s the guy?”
“Tell me you aren’t going to go crazy. You have to promise,” she pleaded.
I clenched my jaw. “Tell me who it is.”
“He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, remember that. That’s the most important thing. He’s—”
“Seraphina,” I growled.