Page 45 of Ruthless Salvation

By turning away, was he showing me his displeasure? He’d used my pet name—my angel—and that was usually a good sign, but what if I was wrong? Could this possibly be a test?

When he was in this sort of mood, I overanalyzed everything he said and did, trying to gauge how he might be feeling and how careful I needed to be. I went round and round for what felt like hours before finally deciding to take the chance and trust that he meant what he’d said.

First thing the following morning, I booked a flight for the next day. The ticket was expensive, but Damyon had been insistent since we met that pinching pennies was an insult, as though he couldn’t support me. He said it would make others think he was weak, so he was adamant I shopped at only the finest stores. A last-minute first-class plane ticket was nothing compared to the cost of some of the jewelry I now owned.

I had everything packed that night, and the following morning, one of our security guards took me to the airport. I was filled with so much excitement and trepidation that my stomach was a churning pit of nerves.

I’d hoped Damyon would take me to the airport himself. It would have gone a long way to reassure me he wasn’t upset about the trip. Instead, he’d been eerily distant. His mood scared me, but what was done was done. I could only hope the small time apart would smooth things over between us.

Once at the airport, I wound my way through security, pulling my carry-on bag with my passport in hand. When it was my turn, I handed over the booklet and smiled at the balding man with skin so weathered it was almost leather. He muttered something in Russian.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said with a pleading smile.

He shook his head, handed the book back to me, then waved me back to where I’d come from.

“What do you mean? Why can’t I go through?” Trepidation sent my stomach plummeting into my Jimmy Choos.

Another member of airport security joined us as the people behind me in line grew agitated at the delay. The two men talked before the new guy took my passport, opened it to the main page, and said a single word.

“Expired.”

“What? No, that can’t be right. It’s brand new.” The dang thing was supposed to be good for ten years. When I looked at the date, I saw that they were right even though I specifically remembered looking at the expiration when I first received the passport and knew the date as shown wasn’t what it had said back then.

The lady behind me pushed forward, muttering something harshly.

I stumbled back down the line, bumping into people in a baffled haze. How had this happened? What was I supposed to do if my passport was expired? Did I go to the US embassy?

Before I could come up with an answer, I emerged from the security line to see Damyon standing near the airport entrance, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

He knew.

He’d let me go because he knew I couldn’t get anywhere. This had all been for my benefit, so I’d know he had me trapped.

Dear God.

I tried to swallow past the terror lodged in my throat. It was no use. Even if I could speak, I didn’t know what I’d say. There were no words for this situation.

As soon as I was close enough, Damyon turned and led us out to his waiting car. What else could I do but follow? I had no friends or family here and no way to escape. The only thing I could do was try with everything I had to smooth this over. But how did I do that when all I wanted to do was scream at him and launch accusations? He’d planned this. Not last night or even last week. He’d planned thismonthsago when he’d first taken the passport.

We rode home in silence. It was the most suffocating, oppressive silence I’d ever experienced—like diving deep below the ocean’s surface where the pressure pounded in your ears and made your lungs burn.

Damyon carried my suitcase into the house and left it by the stairs.

More silence.

I was about to haul the thing to our room when my heartbreak got the better of me. I turned tear-filled eyes to the man I’d given my heart to and whispered, “Why?”

That was it. That was all he needed, like a tiny tripwire detonating a bomb.

“Why? Because you belong tome,” he screamed. His voice bellowed throughout the house and rattled my bones.

He charged forward. “I told you I would never let you go. Did you think I was joking?” His ice-blue eyes had always looked striking, but now I realized they were a warning about the soulless monster lurking inside him. The physical embodiment of evil.

I shook my head frantically, trying to save myself from the quicksand tugging me under.

Damyon’s hand clamped viciously around my throat. “How dare you try to leave me. No one disrespects me like that.No one!” he shouted, his angry breath searing my face.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.