Page 61 of The Devil
“Who the hell are you?” I ask with genuine confusion and shock in my voice. I can no longer hold it in, even if it means I incur more of his wrath. “I don’t get it; you’re like a totally different person. Do you evenlikeme?”
“I love you, baby, how can you ask me that?” he mocks me, theatrically placing his hands over his heart.
“No, you don’t. If you loved me, you wouldn’t hurt me, you wouldn’t be treating me like you’re the subject of a country and western song right now.”
I stupidly place my hands on my hips as I work myself up, though, this turns out to be an inflammatory action, for seconds later, he’s gripping hold of my chin between his finger and thumb. The act is anything but affectionate; it’s a promise of what is to come if I dare try to stand up to him again.
“I did love you and I did everything right! I took you out for fancy dinners, I looked after you when you were off your face, I waited, I even came out to damn Spain to be with you, and what did you do? You slept with the cretin who took your virginity and dumped you! You really are a stupid slut because not only did you go back for seconds, but you’re also still in love with him! Do you realize how fucking stupid I looked having to tell my friends and family that the kid in my girlfriend’s stomach might be the result of someone else’s spunk? The woman I had told everyone I was in love with might possibly be carrying someone else’s spawn?”
His words are bitter and have me feeling guilty for a few moments before I realize that I have been nothing but honest with him. He cannot say the same for himself.
“Before I point out the fact that you have been anything but faithful to me, can I just ask why the hell you married me if I’ve wronged you so much? Or is this all some elaborate revenge against me for not choosing you?” His sinister grin tells me that’s exactly why he married me, and it both horrifies and disgusts me. “So, you just plan on keeping us trapped in a lie? In some kind of version of a fake marriage?”
“Oh no, baby, I plan on you being everything a wife should be. We do have a child together, after all, and I doubt either of us wants her growing up in a tempestuous atmosphere. However, my role as a ‘husband’ might be a little different to what you’ve grown up with.”
“Meaning?” I venture, even though I’m terrified of the answer.
“Meaning I can pretty much do what I want,” he chuckles arrogantly, “but you can’t. You won’t do anything without my say so and, just so we’re clear, my say so is the bottom fucking line.”
“And if I don’t want to be your wife?”
“Then you lose Jess; she will come with me,” he snarls before shoving me out of the way so he can get to our closet where he begins pulling out dresses for me to wear. “It wouldn’t be that hard, I have the means to make you look like you have a bit of a problem with cannabis, or maybe even stronger. After all, I did enjoy filming you getting high with your underage brother. Then there’s the fact I needed to do a paternity test because you were sleeping around with a man like Lucius Hastings, a hell of a dodgy motherfucker with a less than scrupulous background. Word has it, he broke someone’s nose at the tender age of thirteen. Not to mention he was the unwanted result of rape. Oh, and if necessary, I might have to tell everyone about my poor girl having a bit of a coke habit. It’s not too hard to get hold of if you have the right contacts. In fact, I think it might be a good reason for why you can’t even breastfeed our child anymore.”
He looks at my horrified expression before throwing back his head with a sadistic laugh.
“S-so you’re just going to ‘punish’ me for the rest of my life? Is that your plan?” I gasp with a horrified expression.
“Pretty much,” he replies as he comes in close to stroke a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorry, babe, your knight in shining armor isn’t gonna come for you. You may as well be dead to that asshole. Now get fucking dressed, you look God awful!”
God awful. Yes, my life was to become God awful.
Part III – The Devil Comes
“When a devil falls in love, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful thing ever. And you should be terrified, for he will go to the depths of hell for her.”
-UNKNOWN
Chapter 25
Lucius
11 years later
Nathaniel Carter has certainly grown up since the last time I saw him. Of course, he was a pimply teenage boy full of hormones back then. Now, he looks confident, professional, and self-assured, even if he is doing a bad job of concealing his puppy dog eyes for his PA. I can’t blame him, she is very attractive, but she isn’t the woman who has sparked my interest. Standing next to them is a woman I haven’t seen in eleven years; a woman who should have been mine. She makes me stop dead in my tracks, but then I remember I am in work mode. I need to always maintain a hardened exterior, to make sure no one thinks I am anything but the asshole everyone knows me as.
She is still as stunning as the day I last saw her all those years ago. Her hair has returned to its natural chocolate brown color, but otherwise, she looks virtually the same as she did when she had stormed out of my life in Spain. Helena Carter will always be the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Seeing her unchanged, a piercing pain runs through me, one made up of equal parts hurt and regret.
Helena is the first to see me walking toward the reception desk, and from the way she just dropped her glass, I know she must have instantly recognized me. It’s not hard, I am pretty much a broader version of the man whom she made love to eleven years ago. Coming up close, I notice her beautiful wide eyes, which once sparkled with a feistiness reserved only for me, but are now vacant of any kind of life. She looks lost, empty, and beaten down. I can’t help but glance at her left hand; she’s not wearing any rings.
Nate’s PA is the next to look my way and has the reaction that most people do when I walk into a room - unnerved but with a hint of curiosity. Finally, the youngest Carter notices me, though he has the expected reaction of a person in his elevated position. There’s a hint of contempt behind his fake smile and confident gaze. Though I suppose groping one of his brother’s girlfriends at my father’s wedding didn’t exactly go down well in the Carter household.
We greet formally with professional smiles and handshakes, exchanging pleasantries and other meaningless chitchat, even though I’m desperate to bypass him and talk to Helena instead. After longer than I’d like, I eventually get the opportunity to turn and face his older sister, the only person in the room, on the planet even, who I really want to talk to.
“Helena,” I say with confidence, shielding my inner insecurities from everyone, “it’s been a while.”
“Yes,” is all she manages to whisper.
“How is the family? A husband and a daughter, isn’t it?”