“Of course it is. I made a mistake. It was absolutely stupid of me, but I was so afraid of losing you. Lately, we’ve been out of sync . . .”
“Exactly.” She pounced on that. “I feel as if you don’t like anything about me. Not one thing, Winston. The way I dress. My friends. The way I talk. You have to correct everything I do and then I’m still not good enough.”
“Darling.”
He looked terribly distressed, so much so that her heart hurt. She didn’t like hurting anyone. She finished off the whiskey and automatically handed him the glass when he put out his hand for it.
Winston took it from her and crossed to the bar. “If I made you feel like that, you should have told me immediately. I love you with every breath I take. I want to be your husband and go through life with you.”
“We don’t like the same movies or music.” Soleil felt a little desperate. He was looking a little like a kicked puppy instead of a barracuda, and she wasn’t good at all with hurting people. She kept trying to assert herself even as she took the drink from him.
“Keep going, Soleil. I had no idea you thought I wasn’t happy with you. I need to hear this. It’s the only way to fix what’s broken between us.”
“You don’t like to dance. You aren’t in the least bit proud of the way I look. You want me to change my hair and makeup and wear clothes I consider far too old for me. I don’t understand why you think you love me, Winston.”
“You are so wrong, Soleil. How could you think I’m not proud of you? I told you I wanted to get into politics. I was trying to help you, so you’d feel comfortable when we’re attending the kinds of fund-raisers and charity events where we’d need to be seen.”
She detested the events he wanted to go to. They were hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars a plate, very stuffy. She felt everyone was looking down on her. He would sometimes grab her elbow and drag her into a corner and hiss at her that he’d told her to study the list of people he wanted her to talk to. Everyone else there was to be smiled at but ignored. How could an event be fun if she had assignments and failed at all of them, especially when she carefully memorized every single name on his list? She wasn’t going to be rude and ignore people who talked to her.
She took another drink and shook her head. “I can’t marry you, Winston. That’s the bottom line. It isn’t going to work. I’m not happy. You’re not happy. I’m giving you back your ring . . .”
He went very still, only feet from her, his eyes going from that watchful amusement to dark and a little scary. Suddenly, the large room seemed too small.
“Soleil. Stop right there. Don’t make a fool of yourself. We are getting married. It’s ridiculous for you to suddenly decide after one small slip to throw me over. You’re acting like the spoiled child I know you to be, and I’m not going to put up with it. If this is about that idiotic prenup, I’m not asking you to sign one to protect me. Even your lawyer agrees it’s ridiculous. I have far more to lose than you do.”
She stood to make herself taller, tilted her chin, narrowed her eyes at him and took another cautious sip of the whiskey. “I am not going to marry you. Prenup or not. It isn’t going to happen.” And if he was so damned wealthy, why was she always the one paying for everything? She should ask, but something kept her from doing so. It always did.
“I realize you’re very young and you’re upset over Bennet’s death. I found you a lawyer and I told you I’d deal with the businesses and the finances. You don’t have to do anything but your art. I didn’t realize you were so close to your lawyer, but I should have.”
She wasn’t certain what to do when he used his reasonable tone on her and reduced her to being a not-quite-bright child. He did it often and now, examining the last few weeks, she realized just how often. She always backed off when he did that, feeling inferior. She had degrees in art and art history. His degrees were all practical, in business and finance. He had said they would work well together, and it had sounded a perfect match. It wasn’t.
Soleil took another drink, emptying the glass, and went to the bar herself to pour another short drink before she tried again. The alcohol was kicking in and giving her more courage. “It’s true, Kevin’s death really threw me. He’s all the family I had, as crazy as that sounds. I’m not comfortable with Donald Monroe. He doesn’t listen to me and he doesn’t answer my questions. He just says not to worry, he’ll take care of things.”
“Isn’t that why we hired him?” Winston sounded as if he was holding on to his patience by a thread. He didn’t sound like the man she’d met only a few weeks earlier. What had happened to him?
“You hired him. You didn’t give me a chance to interview him or even talk to him first. I don’t know the first thing about him.”
“Someone needed to watch out for you, and you were too grief-stricken to do it.”
“We could have waited a few weeks.”
Anger flashed across his face. She watched as he swallowed what he was going to say and then he doubled his fist. Deliberately, he clenched and then unclenched his fingers. “Soleil. Is that the reason for all this? You’re upset because we hired Monroe? When we get back from our honeymoon, I’ll fire him.” His voice turned conciliatory and he even smiled benevolently at her. “I can get rid of him just as easily as I hired him.”
She had to stop arguing and just insist. He wasn’t listening to her, and it was still all about him. Not her. She wasn’t going to fire Monroe. He was going to do it. He was going to be very, very shocked to learn she’d already done it.
“Winston, you don’t seem to get what I’m telling you. I am not getting married to you. Not now. Not later. There isn’t going to be a honeymoon. I’ve already called and officially fired Monroe. I followed up with the necessary legal papers. I went to someone here to help me. Monroe isn’t working for me nor is anyone from that firm.” Not after she’d called him about the prenup and he’d said to skip it, it wasn’t necessary. Even she knew better.
“You did what?” His face darkened with rage. He stepped into her, took the mostly empty glass of whiskey from her and threw it sideways away from them. The glass shattered against the piano.
Winston backhanded her casually, but hard enough to knock her backward. He followed her, slapping her breasts three more times. Each blow made her stumble back more. Pain exploded through her, a shock wave that made her nearly vomit. She knew he was holding back too. He didn’t look like he wanted to.
“You little bitch. Do you think I’m going to let you ruin everything because you’re so spoiled you want every single thing your way? I want you cleaned up and looking presentable in the next half hour and then we’re going to finish up here with the plans we made.” With each sentence he hit her again, her ribs and then her stomach, finally knocking her to the floor.