Page 59 of Reckless Love

“He’s not dumb, Stephen. We’ve been married for six years. He knows what’s normal behavior for me and what’s not.”

He breaks eye contact under the guise of scanning the perimeter again, and I hate that he so easily slips back into work mode as though nothing I say has any significance.

“Have you felt safe enough with your security detail this time?” he asks.

“What if I say no? What then?”

“Don’t play games.”

“It’s been fine,” I say, my voice tight, and I can’t help stepping into his orbit, using proximity to get some kind of reaction.

“If you feel unsafe,” he says, glancing down at me, “text me, and I’ll look after it.”

I’m near enough now to witness the imperceptible ways he’s aware of me too. His eyes are softened, and his shoulders have rolled forward as though prepared to shield me or embrace me. The want flaring inside me is almost unbearable. If only I could turn back time.

“Stephen,” I whisper, a plea for I don’t even know what. There’s this ache since he returned that I can’t satisfy. Or maybe it was always there, but I got so used to suppressing it, ignoring it, refusing to recognize it that all those boxed-up feelings are spilling everywhere. Making a mess of my life. Whether he’s near or not, I long to be closer. He’s constantly invading my thoughts.

“Isn’t this cozy?” Raul grits out, his voice an octave deeper, more menacing than I’ve ever heard it. He can be cruel when he’s had too much to drink, but goose bumps rise on my arms at how furious a simple question can sound.

On instinct, I step away from Stephen, which probably makes me look guilty. And I am guilty. “It’s not—”

“What I think?” Raul says, stalking toward us. “No? More lies, Ava? It’s one thing to whore around where I can’t see, but right in front of my nose? Eye fuck him for all our friends and colleagues to see?” He grabs my arm in a tight squeeze, and I stumble, surprised. “Do you have so little respect for all I’ve given you?”

“Raul!” Tears and pain mingle in that one word.

“You need to remove your hand from Ms. Tucker,” Stephen growls.

“Do I?” Raul hauls me closer to him, even more roughly, and I wince. “You’re going to tell me how to treat my wife? Though I suppose it turns out she’s still the common whore—”

Stephen rips Raul off me, and he drags him, hand around his throat, against the wall of my parents’ mansion. His action is so sudden and so strong that terror seizes me for a moment. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him lose control.

“Stephen, don’t,” I cry. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Your wife?” Stephen’s tone is more intimidating than I’ve ever heard it. “A real man would never speak to his wife like you just did. A real man would never put his hands on his wife like you just did.”

“You think you’re the real man here?” Raul grits out. “I’ll have you charged with assault for this.”

Stephen’s hand seems to tighten, and Raul gasps.

“If you lay another hand on your wife in anger ever again,” Stephen says, voice pitched so low I almost can’t hear, “assault will be the least of your worries when it comes to me. I know this entire island in ways you’d wish I didn’t.”

“Let him go,” I say, and it’s only then that I realize I’m crying, one hand massaging my bicep that aches from where Raul grabbed me. “Just let him go.”

Stephen tenses and stares down Raul for another beat before stepping back. Raul comes off the wall, shoving Stephen, but he might as well be trying to push a brick wall. Stephen smirks and stays where he is.

“Raul,” my father calls from the doorway to the ballroom. “Come get a drink with me. Some investors want to chat.”

“This isn’t fucking over,” Raul says, glaring at Stephen and then turning his wrath on me. “You know the consequences of betraying me, and I’ll take everything that’s rightfully mine.”

My shoulders shake on a sob, and I try to stifle it, hold it in. Landon. My company. I cover my face, trying to keep myself together. God, I can’t be crying in the backyard of my parents’ mansion at a fucking wine auction. Now is not the time. He’s drunk. Didn’t clearly see what he thinks he saw. But if I can’t convince him…

“He doesn’t mean it,” I cry. “He doesn’t mean it.”

“Ava,” Stephen says, trying to draw me into his embrace.

I step away, wiping my tears, trying to gather what’s left of my senses. No matter what, I can’t give the wrong impression to more people tonight. Raul is so drunk, and his memory is bad when he’s been drinking. Other people will remind him of that if I can hold myself together. “I’m sorry about that. That shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize for him,” Stephen says, his tone brimming with anger again. “Does he behave like that normally? Do I need to do something about this?”