His Obsession, Her Agony

divorce,

teady. They hung in the air of

his glass. He didn' t look at me. He looked at m

hout. It was a statement of fac

tched the handle of my suitcase, my knuckles wh

was a handsome man. The magazines all said so. But I only saw the mons

t your pr

ren' t you? I own this house. I own the clothes you'

linched, my body remembering

," I wh

of my hair. "You think you can just walk away?

weapon. It never failed to slice

like claws. The grip was tight, punishing. "She' s dead because of

hot and useless. "L

whiskey on his breath. "You belong to me. In this life and

. His hand connected with my cheek. The sound was a sharp crack in the silent

heek throbbing, the taste

emorse on his perfect face. "This

shoe. "Unpack. We' re having dinner with my busines

ing me crumpled on t

orm in the ruins of my despair

ght about

th would

would