Beauty in the Broken

“Damian.” Anne blinks up at me. “Please.”

Lina’s cheeks are losing their after-orgasm glow. Despite her poker face, she’s unsettled. I can read it in her eyes. To her credit, she doesn’t flee the awkward situation.

Anne is nothing if not insisting. She folds her arms around my legs, creasing my pants in her fists. “Damian.”

I try to pry her free, but she only clings to me harder. Zane saves me by charging into the room. His face goes red as he takes in the scene. Hooking his hands under Anne’s armpits, he hauls her to her feet.

“What are you doing?” he exclaims.

Lina looks between us, her blank expression finally slipping to make space for something that looks like hurt or embarrassment, maybe both.

Beyond irritated with Anne for her intrusion, I don’t spare her my wrath. “I gave you more than enough money to find your own place.”

“I had bills to pay.”

Zane starts pulling her to the door. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t have a job,” she says. “You know how high the unemployment rate is. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Zane says under his breath.

Lina’s voice rings through the space, clear and beautiful. “Wait.”

Zane stops to look at her.

“You can’t throw her out on the street,” my wife says. “You heard what she said. She has nowhere to go.”

Both Zane and Anne stare at her in surprise. Instead of gratitude, something else flashes in Anne’s eyes, something ugly. It’s a nasty trait. It shows when you realize someone is a better person than you. It’s called jealousy.

“It won’t look good for you if she stays here,” Zane offers meekly.

Lina steps forward, emanating authority as if her ass isn’t still smarting—just a little—from my hand. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” She will care when it’s headline news. Besides, my mother used to say two women in one kitchen can only lead to trouble.

“Since my money will no doubt pay for some of the living expenses in this monstrosity of a house,” Lina says, “I should have a say, even if the property belongs to you.”

Oh, but she’s wrong on so many levels. One, I won’t use a cent of her dead husband’s money to provide for her living expenses. No, the roof over her head, the food she eats, and the clothes I intend for her to wear are all paid for by my money. Whatever money she brought into this union is destined for two purposes only—to get back my mine and destroy her father. Two, by court ruling she’s incompetent and unfit to manage her own affairs. She has no say in anything. The only say she’ll have is the permission I’ll give her when and how I see fit. Three, we’re married within community of property. The house belongs to both of us. She would’ve known that if she’d paid attention to what she was signing in church, not that I blame her for being distracted on the day I married her. I don’t believe in going halfway. It’s all or nothing, and when it comes to Lina and me, it’s all. I’m not worried she’ll divorce me for half of my fortune, because I’m not letting her go.

Zane looks ready to flee. Anne is suddenly grateful, offering Lina a belated smile.

“You will not put her in the street when we have five spare bedrooms,” Lina insists.

There’s fire in her blue eyes and determination in the set of her small body. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought Lina knew what it was like to be homeless, which is, of course, the furthest thing from the truth. She was born into wealth and that’s all she’s known. She’s so strong, so convinced of her principles, and so goddamn beautiful as she stands there, dressed in black, underwear soaked, that I can’t deny her. That’s why she’s so loveable, why I fell for her the first time we met. She’ll offer a cold man a shawl and a homeless woman—a woman who for all she knows is my mistress—a room, no matter the consequences. Her compassion is her strength, and that’s why I’m weak. I don’t have compassion. I only have vengeance.

I cross my arms. “It will be temporarily until you’re back on your feet.” I shift my gaze to Zane. “This better not become a front-page tabloid story.”

“Of course not,” he says quickly.

Anne grips my hand in both of hers. “Thank you, Damian,”

I pull free. “Thank Lina.”

Anne looks between Zane and me. “Which room can I take?”

“Lina will decide.” Walking to the door, I address my wife. “A moment, please.”

Outside in the hallway, I back Lina up to the wall. Zane and Anne can exit at any moment, but I need this. I need to pin her weight against me. I need to remind her how she submitted not moments ago. I need to remind myself that I have the power, even when I give in to her.