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“It was always your side. I never put anything there. I hoped you would come back to me someday.”
“I love you.”
I sit on the bed and take her in my arms. She smells faintly medicinal from the hospital, but her familiar scent is there, just under the surface. I take her good hand and kiss the back of it, running my lips over the smooth skin.
“Zane, don’t do that,” she says as she gives me a heated look.
I chuckle, “Is this turning you on?”
She freezes as her phone starts to play the song, Wrapped Around Your Finger by The Police. Fear mars her face, and I pick up the phone to see that Declan’s name is on the screen. How fitting that she used a song about submission for his ringtone.
“Baby, you don’t have to answer it.”
The phone silences, and her face softens until it starts ringing again. We stare at each other until it stops. A minute later, the cell chirps with notification of a voicemail.
“He left me a message.”
“Do you want to listen to it?”
“I’m afraid.”
“You don’t have to. You can delete it. You don’t owe Declan Blair anything.”
“I should listen.”
She takes the phone and calls her voicemail, putting it on speakerphone. She shrinks against the pillows when she hears his voice.
“You little whore. Where the fuck are you?” He sounds drunk. “Are you fucking him? Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? You better answer next time I call, or it’s going to be twice as bad for you when I come back to New York. If you’re with who I think, you’re both dead.”
The phone clicks, and we stare at each other.
“Lana, I’m not afraid of Declan. He can go fuck himself.”
“Maybe I should go back to the suite. I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“He can’t hurt me anymore. I have you. Lana, you need to press charges against him. I don’t care who he is; he should go to jail for what he’s done.”
“I just want to be done with him. I want him to leave us alone. He’s done nothing but tear me down, offering trinkets to atone for his sins. I fell for it. That’s how I was brought up, to think of everything material. Is it a wonder why Alicia is the way she is? We should move away, start fresh.”
“This is our home, and I’m not running because of your soon to be ex. He can do what he wants, but you’re staying with me.”
She snuggles back down into bed, and I take her phone out with me to the living room. If that bastard calls again, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Every time I look at Lana’s injuries, I want to fly into a murderous rage.
Declan never called back, and gradually Lana’s arm felt better. As the day approached for her husband to return to the east coast, Lana became more agitated. I could tell because she snapped at me more than once when I tried to help her organize a few things in the dresser. I was only trying to help minimize further injury to her wrist, but the look she gave me told me to back off.
As she felt better, she also became friskier and bold. Her good hand would often wander to rest on the waistband of my boxers when we were in bed at night. I had no intention of making love to her until she was one hundred percent. She scowled when I revealed this to her. She told me that her pussy and breasts were fine. I told her waiting would make it all that much better.
On the day Declan was to return, Lana awoke, screaming just before dawn from a bad dream. It tore at my heart that she was so tortured. It was all I could do not to wait at The Plaza and tear him limb from limb. But if I laid a finger on him, he would surely press charges to the maximum.
Jordan’s private investigator had more than enough information and pictures about Declan’s infidelities to end the union quickly. The trip had nothing to do with business. He spent most of it frolicking at the pool, drinking, and having sex in one of the bungalows of the Chateau Marmont.
It made me wonder why he got married at all. Lana was nothing to him but an image on his arm. She was gorgeous and refined, of which Miss Tasha Sinclair was not. Declan had playthings, Lana to wear on his arm for a night out, and pictures taken by the paparazzi and Tasha for the bedroom. From what the PI had told Jordan, he liked it kinky. Lana could be wild in bed, but there were certain things she would not do.
I imagine that while they were dating, he tried with her, but she told him no. I’m sure he had Sasha and who knows who else to make up for Lana’s lack of Declan’s satisfaction in their bedroom. He probably acted like he was fine with what she would do for him. He needed an escort, a wife who would look good in public, so he overlooked what he termed her shortcomings.
On the day Declan arrived back in the city, which was a Friday, Lana couldn’t sit still. Her bruises had faded somewhat, and her wrist started to feel better. She paced the length of the apartment while I worked from home in my office. I wanted to comfort her, tell her everything was going to be alright but I wasn’t so sure.
Her phone rang just after 1:00 PM. The music of The Police filling our quiet apartment until the ringing ceased, only to start up again several times over. Declan must have come home to find Lana’s locket and wedding ring sitting on the dresser where I placed them, her closet, and personal effects removed.
