11: Her Savior

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. I just stared at the pictures scattered across the floor.

“That’s…” My voice came out weak. “That’s not—”

“One time wasn’t enough?” Aaron cut in, his voice sharp with disgust. He paced the living room, his bloodshot eyes darting from me to the pictures on the floor. “You had the audacity to go back for more? To hunt him down in an alley like a common whore?”

My head snapped up.

“You had someone following me, didn’t you?” I whispered, the realization hitting me almost as hard as his insults. “You’ve been tracking me?”

“Is that really the most important thing right now?” he roared. He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my arm, yanking me out of the couch and shoving me back against the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city.

“Aaron…”

“Is that what matters?” he demanded, his face inches from mine. “That I was watching?”

The glass was cold against my back, but Aaron’s face was red with a terrifying rage. He looked like he was going to hurt me again, his grip on my shoulder tightening until I winced.

“You’re hurting me…”

“Good. Maybe now you’ll pay attention.”

My breath hitched.

“Aaron, please. You need to calm down,” I pleaded, my voice shaking as panic rose within me. “There are things I need to tell you, things you don’t understand.”

“I understand exactly what I need to.”

“No, you don’t!”

“I understand that my wife went behind my back,” he said, his voice dropping. “And humiliated me.”

“That’s not what this is!”

“I don’t want to hear your lies!” He pressed his body into mine, pinning me against the glass. He hadn’t touched me in years, barely even looking at me. But now, seeing me in another man’s arms—even in a photograph—had ignited a dark, possessive hunger that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with ownership.

“Since you’re so desperate for a dick that you’re chasing my investors into the street, I might as well give it to you,” he hissed into my ear.

His hand fisted in the collar of my dress, and with a violent jerk, he ripped the fabric. I shrieked, clutching the shredded cotton to my chest as I struggled against him.

“Aaron, stop! Please!” I begged, my eyes darting to the window. “People can see! We’re right against the glass. Anyone outside can see us!”

“Let them look,” he spat, his face inches from mine. “Let them see exactly who you belong to.”

The words sent a chill down my spine.

There was no love for me in him.

There was never love.

It had always been about control, ownership.

“I’m not…” I struggled harder. “Let me go!” I sobbed, my hands pushing fruitlessly against his chest as he tried to force my legs apart.

Just then, the chime of the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

Aaron froze, his forehead resting against the glass as he cursed under his breath. He lingered for a moment, his grip still bruisingly tight, before he shoved me away with a look of pure loathing.

“Don’t move,” he snapped, adjusting his disheveled clothes.

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He was already striding toward the door.

I collapsed onto the floor, pulling the torn gown around me, my heart hammering against my ribs. I heard him storm toward the front door, heard the heavy click of the lock, and then a silence that felt even more dangerous than the shouting.

“You've got a lot of nerve showing up here,” Aaron’s voice drifted back from the door, vibrating with suppressed violence.

“Hello to you too, Aaron,” a smooth, commanding voice replied.

Raguel.

I scrambled to the doorway, peering out just in time to see Aaron swinging his fist, aiming for Raguel. However, he stumbled, his punch having met nothing but empty air as Raguel stepped elegantly to the side. Aaron lost his balance, falling hard onto the hardwood floor.

“Is that any way to treat your most important investor, Aaron?” Raguel asked, looking down at him with a cold, mocking detachment.

Aaron pushed himself up, fury burning in his eyes.

“You think I care about your money right now?” he snapped. “We had an agreement. One night. The deal was for one night! One night, you bastard! Not for you to keep stalking my wife, taking her into alleys!”

“You really can’t blame me,” Raguel interrupted, his eyes flicking toward the doorway where I stood trembling. A dark, predatory glint sparked in his eyes as they landed on me. “Your wife is quite delectable, Aaron. And as I’m sure you’ve realized, one taste simply isn’t enough.”

With a roar of unthinking rage, Aaron lunged again, throwing his entire weight into a desperate attack.

Raguel didn’t even seem to exert himself. He caught Aaron’s effortlessly, throwing him toward the hallway wall with a force that seemed impossible for a human.

There was a sickening crack as Aaron’s shoulder hit the wall, leaving a visible dent in the plaster. He slid down the wall, his body folding like a house of cards until he lay in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath.