The Ritual

I fucking win!

The way his narrow on me and his fists clench, he gets the message. He grabs Ashley and spins around, running off with her.

Slowing the kiss down, I pull away. Her heavy eyes slowly open to look up at me. “I owed you a dance, Mrs. Archer.” I finally answer her question, and her body melts into mine. A look of pure admiration written all over her Barbie doll face, and it makes me smile. I want to see that more from her.

It can’t hurt to have your wife fall in love with you, right?

I feel like it won’t take much.

BLAKELY

I MAKE MY way down the hallway to Ryat’s bedroom. Three glasses of champagne later and countless handshakes with the congratulations have got me needing to pee. I unlock the door and then shut it behind me. I’m washing my hands when I hear his bedroom door open and close. “Have you seen Sarah tonight?” I ask, turning it off and grabbing a towel to dry my hands.

Spinning around, I go to step back into the bedroom, but someone steps in front of me, blocking my way. I go to scream when they shove me into the bathroom, but a hand is slapped over my face, and I’m shoved up against the wall.

I look up into a set of baby-blue eyes. I start screaming behind his hand.

“Shh, Blakely. I just want to talk.” He removes his hand and raises them both in front of him.

I suck in a deep breath, “What are you doing, Matt?” I snap. If Ryat finds him in here, he’ll kick his ass.

“I need to talk to you.”

I shove his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “There’s nothing for us to say.” Making a fist, I pound it into his suit.

He sighs and steps back, allowing me space to exit the bathroom. I rush through the bedroom, and my hand reaches the doorknob when he speaks. “He paid your father five hundred thousand to marry you.”

I stop and turn to face him. A laugh bubbles up in my chest, but I force it down. “You’re lying,” Men don’t pay for their wives. That’s the kind of shit you see in movies.

He goes on. “Your phone. He tracks you with it.”

My pulse races at his words. “No …”

“Your incoming calls and texts. He blocks them.” He growls.

My knees start to buckle at the blow to my chest his words have on me, but I manage to stay standing. But I argue, “He couldn’t …”

“Think about it. Your mom has told me that she can’t reach you. I’ve tried calling and texting you.” He steps toward me, and I’m frozen in my spot. “That weekend he went to New York but came home early, he blocked Sarah’s number so she couldn’t call you to come party here without him.”

Tears start to sting my eyes at how much sense his words are making, but I don’t want to believe it. “No. How would he …?”

“That first night here at the party ... when you caught me with Ashley? He retrieved your phone, keys, and ID from the check-in before driving you home. He downloaded an app to your cell to give him access to everything. Even the things you google. He can hear every call, read every text. He tracks you.”

Tears fall from my eyes even as I shake my head at him, refusing to believe what I know is the truth. It has to be. It makes too much sense.

He sighs, “I know there’s no hope for us anymore. But I just thought you should know who you’ve married.” His eyes drop to my ring.

“How …” I clear my throat. “How do you know all of this?”

“Because I did it to Ashley,” he replies simply. “All the Lords do it to their chosens. Why do you think we make everyone turn in their cells for the party? It’s to give us access to them when everyone else is too busy partying.”

I swallow the lump that gets lodged in my throat. It has to be true, right? It explains so much. Why my mother couldn’t reach me. Why Sarah’s calls wouldn’t go through when he was supposed to be gone, but magically did when we returned from our weekend at the cabin. How he found me on my father’s private jet. And the fact that he placed his hand over my mouth and nose the day after I googled breath play. “How do you know he gave my father money?” I ask, my shoulders shaking.

He reaches up, scratching the back of his neck. “I know because …” He pauses, his arm dropping to his side, sighing. “Because I offered fifty for you.”

Reaching up, I cover my mouth to hide my sob. I knew he didn’t love me, but this? It was all a game to him. I was nothing more than a high-paid prostitute. My father sold me to the highest bidder.