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I put my hand up to stop him. “If this really is about Congressman Oliver’s new political campaign, then I’d rather hear the words myself, rather than Elio’s interpretation of what was said. I know that he’s come a long way, but this would be too important to trust to anyone else. We’re not talking local cops with mortgages and children in college, Nero.”
“Duly noted,” he replied, the truth about Elio undeniable. “However, I can also-”
“I’m going to stop you there again,” I said. “I saw Kasen earlier, and she’s about ready to pop any second, so you need to stay close to home. Besides, Savina’s in O’Brien territory. You showing up there would be bound to kick off a shitstorm.”
“Because you showing up there won’t?” he snorted.
“Not if your wife makes a friendly phone call to The O’Brien,” I smirked, pissing him off.
“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned, but I’d thought it was funny as hell.
Chapter 10
Savina~
My name being called out snapped me out of my trance, and as I recognized my surroundings again, I saw the pieces of skinless chicken still waiting for me to season them. I honestly had no idea how long I’d been lost in my thoughts, but a scheduled beating had a way of doing that, I supposed. It wasn’t often that I knew what Ashton had in store for me, only a simple guess, but he’d been so pissed the other night, and being the monster that he was, he wouldn’t be over it until he’d made his point.
I turned in time to see him walk into the kitchen, all his bags probably sitting in the foyer, waiting until he got around to making them a priority. If I could name one good quality about Ashton, it was that he cleaned up after himself. While I was expected to keep the house up to par, he had no problem cleaning up his own messes and taking responsibility for himself. He felt like a clean home spoke of class, so he always did his best to keep things well-kept and tidy.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he rounded the kitchen island.
Going into Stepford-mode, I said, “Well, I have something for you, too.” I gestured towards the chicken that I’d been preparing. “Chicken Rosemary and baby potatoes.”
Ashton’s smile was genuine, and I wanted to scream. Though I hated this man with every fiber of my being, I hated him most when he was behaving kindly. There was nothing kind about him, and monsters really shouldn’t be able to disguise that part of themselves.
“Perfect,” he said. “It’ll go great with what I have planned tonight.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up because I honestly had no idea if he was setting me up or not. “Plans?”
Ashton nodded as he reached for my hand. “I made a stop on my way home.”
My chest tightened painfully as I watched Ashton slip the engagement ring on my finger, the size perfect this time. My vision blurred, and while Ashton could believe that it was a simple case of my emotions taking over, it wasn’t. Oh, my emotions were taking over, but not the ones that he thought. The ring was a stunning simplicity of class, but it felt like a shackle around my ankle, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear that the walls were closing in on me.
“Now we can officially make the announcement,” he said, his fingers caressing my hand. “Every wedding planner in the state will be vying to plan our wedding.”
Like all those women that were no longer safe knowing their own minds, I said, “I…I’m not…”
“What?” he asked with a little bit of bite in his voice.
I stared up into his face, not bothering to hide my tears. “I don’t…I don’t want to take it off, but…” I glanced back at the chicken filets. “But…I also don’t want to get it all dirty.”
“Awe, sweetheart,” he said, his voice back to normal. “I totally understand.”
I looked back up at him, the lies and fake everything still going strong. “I’d feel silly wearing gloves to prepare dinner.”
Ashton placed his hands on my hips before yanking me forward. “How about we make a deal?”
“Yeah, okay…what?”
“We’ll make a standing appointment with the jeweler to have it cleaned once a week,” he suggested, though Ashton never really ‘suggested’ anything. “That way it’ll still sparkle every weekend.”
“That sounds perfect,” I lied. “Maybe they can work with me and let me drop it off during my lunch on…I don’t know, Tuesdays.”
Ashton’s back straightened. “You’re going to be an Oliver,” he said haughtily. “They’ll do well to accommodate whatever you need, Savina.”
Feeling the reminder like a whip to my back, I gestured back towards the uncooked chicken. “Well, I better get back to making dinner. It should be done by the time that you’re all finished unpacking and washing up.”
He pulled me closer, saying, “I have a better idea.”
