C5, PT. 4

“Jamie.”

His eyelashes lifted, confirming the monster had retreated.

“You’re bleeding.”

He focused on the hand casually collaring her throat. When it shifted, she breathed a sigh of relief, only to have his thumb dip beneath her chin to expose her throat. Again, she didn’t fight. What was the point? She wasn’t prepared for him to duck his head and brush kisses, gentle as a butterfly’s wing, over her tender throat.

“Where you’re concerned, my control’s non-existent. I’ve warned you not to throw other men in my face. Push too hard, I’ll unravel, and we’ll both suffer the consequences. Is that clear?”

She made a noise of assent. He kissed her collarbone before he eased back, face creased as if he was in pain. He started toward the wet bar, his progress slow, far from the fast clip that cleared paths for him. He looked like he aged a decade in an hour. She touched her throat and felt the ghost of his hand still holding her captive. He’d been so close to… She staggered back as her legs turned to jelly. She dropped down hard on the springy cushions, shocked over what had erupted between them.

Their volatile, sexual chemistry supercharged emotions that were beginning to tip far too frequently into violence. They weren’t even a month in, and they attempted to kill each other.

Roth opened a cabinet and pulled out a white cloth. Her eyes unfocused, but she heard the clink of glass as he grabbed a bottle. The slosh of liquid as he turned it upside down to wet the cloth made her aware of how thirsty she was. She swallowed to test the extent of her injuries. Her throat was beginning to swell and the inside of her cheeks were shredded, but it could have been much worse. Her mind flashed to Thea. This was the second time in less than a month that Roth choked a woman. She didn’t think anything could incite him to such violence aside from the blackmail her father had on him. She was wrong.

At her lowest, she vowed that one day she would pay him back for finding her lacking. She succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. It never occurred to her that she could hurt him in this way and that all these years later, it was one of the few things that could make him lose control.

After leaving him, she threw herself into writing to capitalize on the success of book one. When she wasn’t working, she cavorted in depravity and drowned herself in novel experiences before limping back to her computer to get it all on the page. Thankfully, her career continued in an upward trajectory. With her readers cheering her on, she indulged to the hilt and explored her sexuality. She realized pretty quickly that the average male wasn’t up for what she had been groomed by Roth to believe was normal sex. In her experience, the scarier the man looked, the softer he was in bed. Tattoos and piercings didn’t mean shit. Looking back, she was fortunate that she hadn’t gotten into serious trouble since she’d been actively seeking it. She had been stupidly impulsive more times than she cared to remember, but none of the men had hurt or abused her… even when she encouraged it. Despite her hoe phase, she never achieved her original goal—to eradicate Roth from her memory banks. No matter how many men she took to her bed, he was the man she pictured when someone spoke of their first and most memorable. He was the hero of all her stories. So, the joke was on her.

Roth tossed the cloth down, right sleeve rolled up to expose the scratches she left behind. She tensed, waiting for the battle to start anew, but he kept his back to her and took in the view as if he had never seen it before. The silence was fraught with tension, but she preferred it to his relentless inquisition. She needed the respite.

Cautiously, she sank against the cushions to relieve her aching back, eyeing him warily to make sure he didn’t launch another attack. She should be packing her bags and calling for backup, but she was so drained, all she could do was stare into space as his confessions knocked around in her mind.

He hadn’t cheated on her. His infidelity was so ingrained in her psyche that she was having a hard time casting it aside. Roth had an insane sex drive. It seemed preposterous that he hadn’t touched another woman during their three-year marriage. What man wouldn’t indulge when his wife wasn’t around, or after she filed for divorce? The image of Roth, the faithful husband, clashed with the bitter, resentful man who said, You should have told me you were coming. I would have told you not to bother. I’m busy. She wanted to call bullshit—that would make her feel better. But his outrage and righteous fury couldn’t be feigned. He was telling the truth.

She eyed Roth’s rigid back and smothered the flash of remorse. She couldn’t take back what she’d done and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t regret it. Did it matter that he remained physically faithful when he gave her nothing emotionally? If she hadn’t divorced him, she wouldn’t have an identity apart from the one her father or Roth gave her. Now, she had a writing career and life experiences she wouldn’t have if she stayed married. Although Roth said he would have brought her to live with him in London at some point, she suspected not much would have changed in their relationship.

Would he have told her about his vasectomy if she brought up the subject of having a family? How would she react, discovering years into their marriage that he didn’t want children? She grimaced. She had been such an eager to please, docile wife. The chances of her bringing up such a loaded topic was slim. She wouldn’t have pushed for anything, content to wait on him to tell her when he was ready. She would have waited forever. Would that have ended them? Or, would it be the constant bickering over Maximus’ interference? At some point, she would have taken note of his very familiar work associates. Would she have questioned him about his business and realized it was potentially illegal, dangerous, or both?

Her tongue traced a cut on the wall of her cheek as her thumb rotated her wedding ring round and round. How long would it have taken her to pick up on the fact that he never spoke of his childhood? She had assumed so much, and he let her, unwilling to clarify how his father died or explain his strained, distant relationship with his mother. If she hadn’t gone to Colorado to meet Kaia in person, she doubted his mother would have confided in her about his childhood. She suspected Kaia wouldn’t be surprised by her son’s violent tendencies or that he checkmated her into a corner. Are you marrying him of your own free will, or is he forcing you in some way? Kaia had known right from the start that their second marriage was happening under suspicious circumstances and had the courage to speak up, warning her that she didn’t truly know her son. Dad’s letter confirmed that she had the wool pulled over her eyes for seven years.

 Kaia may be the only person on the planet who understood what a master strategist Roth truly was. His mother had been aware of Roth’s true nature, even as a child, and feared him. Had Roth tried to manipulate his mother or gotten her into some kind of trouble where Kaia realized his unusually strong will and determination could be used for evil? Goosebumps rippled over her skin. She wished she could call Kaia for guidance to help understand the man she married, but Roth had foreseen that as well. He cut off that resource weeks ago, long before she recognized how precarious and dangerous her situation was.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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