Chapter 19

VENUS

"You're moving in today. There won’t be any engagement announcement, we’ll just get married in two weeks."

That was the first thing he said when I stepped out, dressed in his oversized T-shirt and shorts I’d had to fold several times so they wouldn’t fall off my waist.

Today?

Not that I was complaining. I mean, who would complain about living here? And truth be told, I didn’t have much to pack anyway.

"Oh, and the stylist will be here later today to get your measurements for your new wardrobe."

Just what every girl dreams of hearing.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He just nodded. Not even a glance in my direction since I came downstairs. I didn’t know how to feel about that.

The man doesn’t like you, Venus, why does it even bother you?

“I’m ready when you are,” he said, still furiously typing on his laptop. “Just pack the basics. You can come back later for the rest.”

“All right.”

Some minutes later, we were in the car, different from yesterday’s Mercedes. This time, it was a Range Rover. Figures.

We pulled up to my neighborhood, and I invited him in, even though I knew he’d rather be anywhere else. He looked expensive, polished, and completely out of place here.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said, already on a phone call.

I went up first and immediately froze. The lock on the door was broken.

“Dain?” I called out, stepping inside. The living room was a disaster—ransacked, trashed, like a hurricane had torn through it.

“Dain?” I called again, heart racing.

I heard movement from the kitchen.

“Dai—Billy?”

He grabbed my arm roughly and yanked me into the kitchen.

“So Dain was telling the truth. Look at you… all new and shiny,” he sneered, breathing me in like a damn psycho.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I tried to wrench my arm free, but he shoved me hard into the counter, trapping me between his body and the cold marble.

“Whose clothes are you wearing?” he growled, eyes wild.

“Get off me!” I struggled.

His hand clamped over my mouth. “You little slut. Sleeping around, huh?” He slapped me hard across the face. “Dain said you were pure. Untouched.”

I bit his hand.

He didn’t let go. He slapped me again, harder.

“I was gonna take my time and enjoy this, but now I’m just going to get a taste.” He reached for the collar of the shirt, yanking at it. I heard the first tear.

Tears streamed down my face. No, no, no.

I struggled harder, panic flooding every inch of my body.

And then he was ripped off me.

“You fucking prick,” Aaron snarled, punching him square in the jaw.

I gasped and sank to the ground, still shaking.

“Who the fuck are you? You’re gonna regret that, you twat,” Billy spat, charging at him again.

Aaron met him with another punch—clean, controlled, brutal. Billy collapsed, groaning.

Aaron grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back up.

“Who are you?” Billy gasped. “And what is this slut to you?”

Aaron’s eyes darkened. That earned Billy another punch, even harder than the last.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” he growled. “But her?” He looked at me. “She’s my wife. You don’t look at her. You don’t talk to her. And you sure as hell don’t touch her.”

He shoved Billy toward the doorway.

“Now get the fuck out.”

Billy stumbled out, knocking over a chair and nearly taking a lamp with him.

Aaron turned to me, kneeling gently by my side.

I flinched, still fisting the torn shirt like it was armor.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he said softly, pulling me into his arms.

And this time, I didn’t fight it. I let myself cry. In his warmth. In his hold.

Safe.