A Villain's Kiss(3)
Author: T.L Smith

 

“What are the many names?”

 

His jaw tightens as if he’s agitated with me. But I don’t move.

 

“A sex club, a spotlight party, a whorehouse…” He throws out all three in quick succession, and all I can do is stare at him incredulously.

 

“Was I just lying on…” My head spins back to the bed, and my forehead crinkles in disgust.

 

His breath is on my face when he speaks, “Yes, pretty lady, you were lying on a bed where others have fucked. Does it make you feel dirty?”

 

“I’ve never been to a whorehouse!”

 

“Well, now you have.”

 

When I face him again, he starts walking away. I’m not sure how to get out of here, so I follow behind him with my new heels clicking on the beautiful marble flooring until we reach a staircase.

 

He halts, charcoal eyes finding mine, and he nods to the stairs. “Leave.” His voice is firm, and I get the hint.

 

I take the first step of the stairs, then turn around. “Thank you for helping me. Are you sure I don’t owe you anything?”

 

He doesn’t want me here, of that I have no doubt, but I need confirmation. His actions seems too generous, or maybe too kind, for a man like him. Not that I know him, but with this type of establishment and that type of man, there is no doubt he would be a villain.

 

As silence fills our proximity, my gaze drifts to my red-painted fingernails, chipped and gripping the handrail, then to my knees, which are scratched and stiff, and my dress, that’s torn slightly and marred with stains. But it could have been so much worse if not for him.

 

When I peer back up, his eyes are still glued to mine.

 

I wait another beat for him to answer, but he doesn’t.

 

So, holding on tightly to the rail, I tread the rest of the steps carefully, trying to keep my balance in my weakened state until I reach the top. The door’s shut, and when I pull it open, I look back once more.

 

“Goodbye, Mrs. Lavender.”

 

Shock must register on my face because he offers me a small smirk before I continue out the door.

 

I step into an alleyway, and suddenly relief hits me hard.

 

If anyone, including my husband, saw me leaving a sex club, it would be all over the papers and television.

 

He would not be impressed.

 

Imagine the uproar if the paparazzi got hold of this.

 

We have the perfect tabloid image, and I could have ruined it in one fell swoop.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

 

My husband is an ass

 

 

 

 

 

Oriana

 

 

 

 

 

My hand goes to my hair, and I subconsciously start twirling it as I stand on our perfectly manicured green grass and look up at our big, beautiful house. It’s in a secluded, gated community so the general public cannot enter. It’s all a part of having money, and Kyler, my husband, has a lot of it. I lick my lips and wonder what I will say to him. How do I tell my husband about the situation I found myself in, or even begin to explain what happened when even I am unsure?

 

I was one of the lucky ones, it seems.

 

But still, it’s left me shaken, and I am forever thankful to that man who owns the club.

 

The door opens, and there he stands, my husband, dressed in a casual tee that has an incredibly expensive logo written all over it and a pair of designer jeans. The whole outfit probably costs more than a damn small car. It’s insane.

 

I wonder when we changed.

 

How we changed.

 

Why we changed.

 

Kyler smiles at me, and my heart doesn’t miss a beat like it should. Instead, it fills with dread. Dread over how I know I have to walk up to that door, holding on to an expensive pair of shoes that another man gave me, and tell him what happened.

 

Do I tell him?

 

He’ll find out one way or another.

 

Maybe he won’t.

 

I like the second possibility better.

 

Taking a deep breath, I move my bare feet through the grass until they hit the perfectly paved entrance to the front of the house. Kyler holds the door open for me while still smiling.

 

That smile used to make me drop to my knees, worshipping the man in front of me.

 

I loved him with all I am.

 

I married young—we were high school sweethearts.

 

He was my…everything.

 

Kyler and I thought we would be together forever. Not once did I imagine us drifting apart and becoming two strangers who simply share a house. But somehow, this is exactly what we’ve become. People grow apart, it’s a fact of life, but for some reason, I never thought it would happen to us.

 

Kyler looks me up and down. “Good, you’re home. I’m off.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, then looks down at the shoes in my hand and dress. “New dress? I like it,” he comments before he strides out of the house without a “Why are you late?” or “Where have you been all night?” Not even a “How was your girls’ night?”

 

Somehow, when the fame increased, I heard a lot of “Don’t you do anything to embarrass me,” and then it became, “it’s best you stay home.”

 

And I did.

 

There was a lot of staying home.

 

Too much.

 

So much that I lost who I was in our relationship and became everything he needed.

 

I need to break from that way of thinking.

 

It isn’t healthy, I know this, but for some unknown reason, I never left.

 

How do I give up on someone I have given ten years of myself to?

 

I’m getting close to my thirties, and my needs and wants are not the same as they once were.

 

What do I even want? The answer to that question is lost on me too.

 

Now I handle all things, my husband. He has a manager, sure, but I am practically his assistant and schedule everything for him. Like right now, as he gets into his Porsche, I know he is off to record his next album, and he’ll be there all night. He works better at night.