Page 11 of Prohibited

She’d been so lonely until she had met Ryan all those years ago.

And, well, look how that had turned out.

Just inside the foyer of the house, Evie took her shoes off and began to walk quietly across the marble floors. Though she was bound to run into some of the house staff, she didn’t want to draw attention to her arrival in case Linus was home.

She held her breath, feeling the cool kiss of the floors against her stocking feet, dreaming of just falling into her bed where she could finally sleep without Walter gripping her so tightly it bruised her, waking her up at all hours to fuck her roughly before falling back asleep and leaving her to burn with a hatred so intense thatit made her grind her teeth while she wished all kinds of terrible misfortunes down upon him.

It was good to be home, though this home didn’t resemble the coziness that the word invoked. She was just letting out a soft exhale of relief when a voice spoke from the parlor she was creeping past.

“Home at last, are we?”

Evie froze, a savage curse word on the threshold of her lips. After a moment, she let her body relax and she turned to face Linus, who was sprawled like a long, spindly insect in a wingback chair. He was smoking, the smell of which should have tipped her off. And the way he was looking at her with glassy, bloodshot eyes told her quite clearly that he’d been drinking and possibly smoking more than tobacco. He was dressed for a formal dinner, white tie and all, though he’d unclasped his collar and taken off his dinner jacket.

God, he was spoiling for a fight and she didn’t have an ounce of fight left in her after surviving days of being at Walter Stanley’s mercy, certain he was about to kill her at any moment. Linus didn’t understand, wouldn’t if she tried to tell him. He didn’t give a shit.

“Yes, I’m home,” she said, trying to stay composed. “I’m going up to bed. Good night.” Then, she turned away toward the sweeping staircase.

“Not so fast,” Linus said, the barest hint of a slur in his words. He sat forward in his chair.

Evie grimaced and turned back toward him.

“You missed dinner at the LaBarons’. They were quite looking forward to reacquainting themselves with you, my wife.” Linus got up from his chair, holding his cigarette between his first two fingers.

He walked to the decanter full of brandy that they kept for guests, on full display, no regard for the laws that forbade it. With surprisingly steady hands, he poured himself a couple of fingers in a crystal cut glass and turned back toward her.

“What do you think I told them when they asked why you didn’t accompany me?” He took a sip of his brandy and rolled his lips, then smacked them.

Evie said nothing. There was nothing to say.

“I’ve gotten creative in my excuses for you.” He sauntered toward her, eyes glittering in a way that made her stomach tighten. “Sick. Indisposed. Your mother is indisposed. Your father required you. You’re out of town for the weekend. Visiting your sister in San Francisco. Oh, yes, I’ve become quite the liar on your behalf.”

“Linus–”

“But they all know.” Now his tone was growing dark. Showing the first hint of a tremor. “It’s impossible to keep anything to do with you a secret when you insist on flaunting your lover in the plain light of day, not a care in the world for what that might do to my reputation. Or your father’s for that matter.”

Evie swallowed, but she didn’t know what to say. There was simply no defense.

He watched her, an unfriendly smile curving his lips. He chuckled through his nose in small bursts. “Cat got your tongue? Or is it Walter Stanley?”

Hearing his name on Linus’s lips was jarring. She’d never made much of an effort to hide her relationship with him, just as Linus made little effort to hide his own indiscretions, coming home with lipstick on his collar and reeking of perfume, sometimes cheap, sometimes expensive, but never her own. But it still disconcerted her that he was confronting her about it. Since when did he care?

Her cheeks started to sting with the heat that was creeping into her face.

“I’m going to bed, Linus. Good night.” And she turned once again toward the stairs. The smack of a crystal glass going down onto a wooden table and the hurried steps of her husband following her were almost enough to send her bolting. Instead, she forced herself to hold her ground. She turned toward him, calmly.

Linus, for his part, didn’t look calm at all. A sheen of sweat was forming on his forehead and his eyes blazed with anger. She started to open her mouth, but his hand closed on her forearm, causing her to gasp and try to pull away. He held fast.

“Linus.” She tried to keep her voice steady. When he wouldn’t let go, she gave her arm a hard yank, but he held her like she was a daisy. “Let me go!”

And then he was dragging her across the beautifully waxed chevron flooring, causing her to stumble and trip in her effort to stay upright. She tried to yank away fromhim, but he shook her like she was a rag doll. They stumbled up the stairs, somehow avoiding the long fall down to the floor below. He dragged her around the mezzanine toward the upper grand staircase that led up to the third floor of their home, where the family bedrooms were located. She tried to catch the balustrade with her fingers to gain some purchase in order to stop him from throwing her around like a doll, but she only succeeded in breaking two fingernails.

She started to slap at him and tried to bite his arm, but he put a hand around her throat and slammed her against the wall, breathing hard.

His eyes were wide, crazed. A version of him she hadn’t yet experienced. “Just give me one goddamn reason,” he whispered in a voice that washed over her like ice cold water.

For one moment, the look in his eyes genuinely frightened her. She really had pushed him past a breaking point. But once she recognized it, she honed in on that rage inside of him and threw herself into the black, boiling center of it.

She spit in his face. “Do it. Do it. You coward. You don’t have the courage.”