Beauty in the Broken

Russell’s concerned voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you all right?”

“I think you’re right. I’m not used to so much sun.”

He still walks beside me as we go back to the house, making a point of showing me the high walls, electrified barbwire, and guarded gate. He’s in the middle of telling me how hard it would be to break in when I stop. He pauses to look at me.

“I know I can’t get out. You don’t have to convince me it’s impossible.”

His expression turns aghast. “I was only trying to make you feel safe.”

“The only place I’ll feel safe is as far away from here as possible.”

He doesn’t reply, and I continue my stroll. After two beats, Russell falls in a step behind me. Our friendly banter is over.

After much pleading, Jana lets me help with the lunch. I have to do something. When I suggest we eat together, she refuses, explaining it would be crossing a line Mr. Hart won’t appreciate, and I end up eating my salad alone. I’m packing the dishwasher when a movement at the window draws my attention. A bat almost flies into the glass before diverting at the last minute and heading into the herb garden. Rushing to the window, I duck for a better view. I’ve seen some bats when I was a child. We had an abandoned, detached garage where they nested. With their furry faces and tilted snouts, they look like a miniature cross between a wolf and a pig. They’re insanely cute.

“There you are,” Zane says too cheerfully behind me. “Dami wants you upstairs.”

I don’t ask where. I don’t have to. When I enter the foyer, voices float down from the open door of Damian’s study. One belongs to my husband, and the other I don’t know.

Damian meets me at the door before I have a chance to knock. For a moment, he looks at me like a man who knows my secrets, but he can’t possibly know. The longer I look into his eyes, the worse it gets, because he’s a man with a goal set on unraveling me, on taking my secrets apart.

“Lina.”

He’s not the shivering young man I met on a cold night in June. He’s hardened, and he’s very much a man. He lets me know in the way he says my name and holds my eyes with something that borders on indecency. His voice is darker and deeper. There’s a gravity to it that comes with experience and confidence. The sound is masculine and strong. It scares me, because it makes me yearn for something I can only find at the profoundness of his maleness. It makes me long to feel safe. To feel safe, I have to submit to his protection, but to protect me he needs to love me, and he’s lost his ability to love because of Harold and me. He’ll substitute love with what equals it in his twisted mind. He’ll try to possess me. All of me.

When he finally steps aside, I’m the fly who enters the spider’s parlor. A man with a sharp face and pointed chin waits inside. He sits behind a card table with his hands splayed out in a crow-like fashion over a black case, as if he’s not keen on parting with the case. He has too thin, too light hair, and his fingernails are cut too short.

Damian skips the introductions. When he says, “Show her,” the man flips back the lid of the case, revealing five rows of brilliant, sparkling stones on black velvet.

I’ve been surrounded by people in the business for all my life, long enough to know what a flawless diamond looks like. There are princess, teardrop, and classical cuts, all bigger than four carats. They catch the sunlight and throw rainbows over the velvet while the man behind the case looks like he’s losing a year of his life for every second he keeps that box full of rainbows open. I don’t even want to guess how much the box is worth.

“Pick one,” Damian says.

I tear my gaze from the diamonds to look at him. He’s not smiling. He’s insisting.

The man starts bouncing his knee in a nervous tick. The diamond Damian is offering isn’t a token of love, not to Damian. It’s a token of status.

“No, thanks.”

The man regards me as if I’ve just shot him in his jittery leg.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You need a ring.”

“I have a ring.” Which was forced on me. I don’t need another.

“You’re my wife. Diamonds are my business. Do you have any idea how humiliating it will look for you if I don’t offer you an engagement ring?”

“It’s a bit like offering me the mustard after the meal, don’t you think?”

“Lina, pick a fucking diamond.” His voice drops to a dangerously low level. “I’m giving you the choice.”