He was right up in her face now, his breath hot and smelling strongly of coffee. “Was the other night fun for you?”
Still trembling, she shook her head.
He released her wrists and gripped her by the shoulders, shaking her until her teeth rattled. “Answer ME!”
“N-no.” Tears spilled down her cheeks now, into her mouth and down the crease of her nose.
He released her and shrugged. “Then don’t fight me next time. You did that to yourself, you know. Every one of your bruises, your aches and your pains are your fault. Not mine. You made me do that. You made me assert myself. You made me remind you of your place, of who you are. You’re mine, Eva. You are my wife. My property and I will do as I see fit with what is mine. Understand?”
She swallowed, her chin quivering so hard she thought she might chip a tooth.
The grip of his fingers tightened around her biceps, and he shook her again. “Understand?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered, now blubbering.
He released her, reached behind her for one of the grapes she’d just washed and popped it into his mouth. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He bent down, pecked her on the cheek and stepped away. “I’m going to go pack. My plane leaves early tomorrow.” Then he was gone.
Eva’s knees knocked and her body shivered despite the heat of the shower as the memories flooded her. Tears mixed with the water, hot and salty.
“I can’t let you win,” she whispered. “I can’t let you take any more from me.”
Resolve settled in her belly, warm and sure. She couldn’t allow Todd Fletcher to affect any more of her life, any more of the people she cared about. He had to go.
Now she just had to figure out a way to get rid of him.
Murder was out of the question. She looked awful in orange.
A hit man? No, she didn’t know any hit men, and somehow that shit always made its way back to the source. She also wasn’t rolling in dough—not after buying her house—so she probably couldn’t afford a hit man.
She finished rinsing out her hair, wiped away the last of the tears and took a deep, fortifying breath. The memories of Todd would always be there, but if all her time in therapy had taught her anything, it was that the last thing Todd deserved after everything he’d done to her was a place in her mind. She needed to shrink him down to virtually nothing, put him in a tiny black box and shove him to the deepest, darkest recesses of her subconscious. The man did not deserve to be considered, remembered or thought about—ever.
But before she did that, she needed to figure out a way to really get rid of him. Either ship him off to prison forever, push him into a bottomless crevasse, or dig up something so dirty on him she could blackmail him from here to kingdom come to stay away from her, her children and everyone else she loved and cared about.
Shutting off the water, she said out loud to no one in particular, “I need a PI.”
Forty-five minutes and four wardrobe changes later, Eva was smoothing down the front of her turquoise, flowy, boho, knee-length skirt and adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of her white eyelet top. She’d decided to go with fun, flirty and just a little bit cheeky with her outfit. Show off her svelte shoulders and trim waist with the cinched elastic rusching below her breasts. When she’d sent a picture of herself to Celeste with her final outfit, her sister had texted back Hot Mama!
Not that her sister’s opinion didn’t matter, but she wasn’t trying to seduce her. Even though she thought she looked pretty damn doable, if she did say so herself.
She kept her hair loose around her shoulders after a quick blow dry, allowing the natural wave to take over and the layers to gently frame her face.
A little bit of bronzer, blush and some tinted lip balm and she was out the door.
She was about to lift her hand up to Scott’s door when the realization hit her. She was arriving empty-handed.
That wasn’t right.
Shit.
If her mother had taught her anything, it was that you never, ever arrived to someone’s house for dinner empty-handed. You brought something to contribute to the meal, alcohol or a host gift.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
As if she had pockets or a spare bottle of prosecco stuffed under her skirt, her gaze flew around the porch and her body. She glanced into her purse and brought out her wallet. Was cash a tacky host gift?
Yes. Yes, it was.
Shit.
She was down the steps and halfway across the driveway when Scott’s door opened behind her. “Running away again?”
She skidded in her tracks, tripping on her cork wedges and needing to fling herself onto the hood of his truck to keep from bailing onto the asphalt.
With flames in her cheeks from the embarrassment, she righted herself using the hood of the truck and turned to face him, once again smoothing the front of her skirt down and adjusting the shoulders of her top. She cleared her throat, thankful that he couldn’t glean how hard her heart hammered inside her chest. “No, not at all. I was just … I forgot something is all.” She pointed at her house as if his host gift was simply sitting on her kitchen table forgotten. It was not.
She didn’t even have a dusty bottle of wine in her liquor cabinet that she could pass off. She had zilch. Zip. Nada. A big ol’ goose egg.
“If it’s condoms, I’ve got plenty.” His grin soaked her panties.
Now it wasn’t just her cheeks that were warm, it was her whole damn body. She swallowed. “No, it wasn’t that. Um … ” Realizing she was defeated, she hung her head. “I’m showing up empty-handed. I don’t have any food, wine or a gift for you.”
A heavy clomp, clomp on the porch steps competed with the lawn mower a few yards down, but she still couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze, that was until big, sexy man feet came into view on the pavement and his heat and scent lassoed around her.
A knuckle tucked under her chin as gentle as could be, and he tilted her head up until all she could see in front of her was Scott.
His lips were pursed as if he were trying to withhold a grin. “You’re adorable, you know that?”
Rolling her eyes, she pulled away, glancing back down at his feet. “Don’t make fun. This night is really important. I stood you up on our last date—which was also our first real date—so this do-over is really important. It’s special, and I … I should have brought you flowers or something.”
His knuckle was back beneath her chin. His other hand sought out hers, and he brought the inside of her wrist to his lips. “Eva, listen to me. All I want is you. I have everything else. Food? Check. Wine? Check. Flowers?” His smile grew wry. “Why don’t you step inside and find out?”
He released her chin and entwined their hands, leading her up the path back toward his house. A ripple of delight coursed through her. She’d always had a soft spot for the traditional gestures like candy, flowers and having the door held open for her—you know, chivalry. Even though she prided herself on being independent and no longer requiring a guy in her life, her belly still did silly little somersaults when a man showed her his gentlemanly side.
“Be with a man who always walks along the curb,” her father had drilled into her and her sister since they were pre-teens. She hadn’t walked along the road with Scott yet, but a part of her suspected he was definitely the type to make sure a woman never got splashed when a car drove through a big puddle.