Page 32 of A Vicious Love

His hand lowered slowly, whiskey forgotten.

“Sienna,” Jamison said. My name sounded different.

I took a step back before I could stop myself.

His gaze flicked to the movement.

I pointed at his hand, or tried to. My finger trembled, so I curled it back into my palm.

“There’s blood on your hand,” I whispered.

His eyes dropped.

He looked at the smear like he had never seen it before.

Then back at me.

“Sienna—”

I didn’t wait to see if he would follow through or apologize or become angrier because I had flinched in front of his brothers. Fear moved faster than manners.

I turned and left…not in the elegant trained way my mother had taught me to leave rooms.

I rushed.

My ankle protested immediately, but I barely felt it. I pushed through the edge of the crowd, past lanterns and startled glances.

The music blurred with my pulse until the whole room sounded underwater.

I reached the corridor leading toward the powder rooms and kept going until I found a small glass alcove half-hidden behind a wall of white orchids.

I stopped there, pressed one hand to my chest, and tried to breathe.

My lungs didn’t want to work.

Both my hands were shaking.

I looked down at them and suddenly remembered being eighteen, standing beside Jamison at some awful engagement dinner, holding out my hand and saying, Hand, please, because his silence had terrified me and I wanted proof I could still reach him.

How many times had I asked?

Hundreds.

Hand, please.

Hand, please, Jamjam.

Such a sweet, stupid little phrase. He had made it ugly in one sentence. I pressed my fingers over my mouth. I would not cry. It wasn’t just what he said that was breaking me. It was my own stupid naive thought that he would never physically hurt me, while history showed proof that the man just hated me.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor.

I jolted back so hard my shoulder hit the glass.

Emmie appeared around the orchids. Marcel stood behind her, further back, but close enough that the corridor seemed safer simply because he was in it.

“Oh, Sienna,” Emmie breathed.

“I’m fine,” I said immediately.