Vengeful Desires

Chapter 4

Dwayne held his tongue until they arrived back home. Mirabelle thought that was commendable, considering she had been expecting him to explode the moment they got in the car. But to her shock, he hadn’t said a word and had kept his eyes firmly glued to his mobile phone the entire drive.

Unfortunately, that meant Mirabelle had spent the entire drive silently chastising herself and then doing a one-eighty and reassuring herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong. So by the time she climbed out of the back seat when the car finally stopped, her nerves were stretched and she could already feel a horrible headache coming on.

The cool night air against her face before they walked into the building helped revive her a little, though. Both physically and mentally. It was like a soft breeze blowing over the wings of a little bird in a cage, reminding it of freedom and hope. Mirabelle frowned but didn’t stop walking after Dwayne until they were enclosed by concrete again.

Dwayne had two homes. One was the personal suites he kept in his father’s mansion just outside the city and the other was a luxurious penthouse within the city, which was where they were now.

Mirabelle had spent time in both places since moving in with him once they were engaged four months ago. She loved the landscape and fresh air of the mansion, but the penthouse had more privacy, which she always appreciated when Dwayne was in a mood. There was nothing more awkward than trying to meet his parents’ eyes after they’d heard her being reduced to nothing with a few words. A talent Dwayne possessed a little too well.

Also, since the building in the city wasn’t fully owned by the Fowler family, it meant there weren’t burly-looking men with guns standing at every corner. It helped with the illusion that she hadn’t dived right into the life she had sworn she would get away from.

Still, Dwayne kept at least three men with him for his personal security. He would have been stupid not to. While the men at the dinner tonight only knew him as a ruthless businessman and CEO of his father’s pharmaceutical company, they had no idea that the Fowler business involved both legal drugs and illegal kinds. In mafia terms, Dwayne’s father, Leland Fowler, would be called a Don, and Dwayne, his underboss, was being groomed to take over the empire someday soon.

Some days Mirabelle asked herself what had gotten into her. But then she remembered that she had fallen in love with Dwayne and he wasn’t that bad. She tried to remind herself of that as they walked into the penthouse a few minutes later, and Dwayne went straight for the kitchen and the liquor cabinet.

Quietly, she lowered herself onto the edge of the large L-shaped black leather couch and gratefully removed her heels. The penthouse wasn’t extremely large like most would expect. Mirabelle had always thought it looked more like a bachelor pad with the open space living room and kitchen on the lower level and the stairs that led to the single bedroom area that sat above the kitchen.

Glass made up one entire wall of the living room, giving a perfect view of the city below. More glass framed the bedroom area where it faced the living room, almost making it look like an indoor balcony than a bedroom. Privacy within the penthouse had certainly not been considered in the design.

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me?” Dwayne suddenly asked, breaking the silence with his sharp tone even as he kept his back to her.

Mirabelle swallowed. She closed her eyes for a second, counting in her head to five before she answered. There was no point beating about the bush. “I didn’t do anything, Dwayne. The man just appreciated my academic achievements.”

In a heartbeat, Dwayne turned and narrowed his eyes at her. “You think I didn’t see how excited you got?” he accused.

“I didn’t get excited. I-”

“You smiled and batted your eyelashes like a stupid w***e! Is that why you wore that cheap dress? To behave like a slut in front of my business associates?”

Mirabelle bit her tongue. She had known the dress would come back to bite her. Dwayne just never let any defiance slide. Still, she didn’t regret her choice of wardrobe or her behavior. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “It had nothing to do with my dress, Dwayne. The man spoke to me because of my brain.”

Dwayne scoffed. A sneer stretched his lips into an ugly curve. “Of course, you want to play the intelligent card. Just because you got a few high grades. That’s what's got you thinking you can work. Busy smiling at the first old man to offer you a job like an idiot.”

Feeling a little too exhausted to deal with his issues tonight, Mirabelle exploded. She shot out of her seat and glared at him. “Can you blame me, Dwayne!?!” She threw her arms up in the air. “For f**k’s sake, I graduated top of my class. I was the best. And here I am… doing nothing all because you don’t want me to!”

“Exactly. I don’t need you to work. I have the money.”

Mirabelle scoffed and rolled her eyes, no longer caring if she was poking the bear. “And I keep telling you. It’s not about the need for money. I just need to put my passion to work.”

For a beat, silence fell over the room. Dwayne drained the drink he had poured himself and set the glass on the counter with exaggerated care. Then he walked over to where Mirabelle stood. The need to step back and run hit her immediately. s**t. What had she done?

“If I had known you would start this again, I wouldn’t have taken you to the damn dinner,” Dwayne muttered, his narrowed eyes fixed on her. He casually shoved his hands into his pants pockets and regarded her. “All this because one old man smiled at you and called you smart. Why didn’t you stick to the women? Why did you follow me?”

“Because I was sick and tired of listening to them talk about handbags!” Mirabelle screeched, her frustration reaching new levels.

She didn’t even know why she was so agitated. It wasn’t the first time they were having this argument. Dwayne had already made his position clear. He wanted a beautiful wife on his arm to give him an heir and a spare, not a career woman. Not a woman with an opinion and definitely not a woman who dared to question him.

His eyes narrowed as he advanced on her very slowly. The hairs on the back of her neck stood, and she had the urge to step back and create space between them again. She didn’t.

“Be very careful, Mirabelle,” Dwayne said quietly. He closed the last distance and then raised his hand and lightly brushed his knuckles against her left cheek before bringing his thumb to her bottom lip and then cupping her chin. “I want a wife who knows when to shut up.”

Only a bone-deep instinct not to cower made Mirabelle hold her fiancé’s intense gaze. Not that he gave her much of a choice with his fingers holding her head in place.

Dwayne went on, his tone low and cold as death itself. “This is the last time we are talking about this, Mirabelle. Where is the business card?”

Mirabelle wanted to lie that she had thrown it in the car. But she knew it was pointless. “In my purse.”

He nodded approvingly, a small smile transforming the coldness in his eyes and hinting at the man she had fallen in love with and accepted to marry.

“I will take that,” he told her unnecessarily. She had already known she wouldn’t keep it. He paused, seemingly waiting for her response, and all Mirabelle could do was nod.

Satisfied, Dwayne then leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Mirabelle was relieved when he kept it chaste and didn’t try to demand she opened her mouth for him. She didn’t have it in her for that. Not tonight. Not that he would have cared.

Another beat passed before Dwayne lifted his head, smiled again, and then released her. He calmly walked around her, collected her purse and phone on the couch, and then made his way toward the stairs. “I’m going to grab a shower,” he said in a tone that said he expected her to join him.

Mirabelle plastered a smile on her face despite her trembling lips. “I’ll be right up. I just want to drink some water.”

She kept the smile on her face until she heard the water start in the shower upstairs. Then all the strength left her. She sank back down to the couch like a rag doll and stared out at the glass wall opposite.

Mirabelle allowed herself only a minute to contemplate things. She was twenty-five years old and in a few months, she would be Dwayne’s wife. When he had proposed four months ago, she had been over the moon. Sure, the man wouldn’t win the noble prize, but she had convinced herself that love was all that mattered. Now she really had to wonder if love was worth everything.

Still, she thought it could have been worse. Dwayne was no stranger to violence, but he had never laid a hand on her. That made him a good man, didn’t it? She mused. Just then, out of the blue, her thoughts went to the handsome stranger at the dinner. What kind of man was he?

No! Mirabelle shook her head as though she needed to shake the thought out of her thoughts. She had no business wondering about a man she didn’t even know. That was just asking for trouble.

Her minute up, Mirabelle sighed and stood up. She pushed her shoulders back and stared down at the city. She didn’t need to wonder if her life could have been better. It was already better. She was getting married to a man she loved. And even though it wasn’t all roses, that was life. Nothing was ever perfect.

With that thought in mind, Mirabelle turned for the stairs with her head held high. If her stomach felt as though it were churning, Mirabelle blamed the alcohol she had drunk and the long evening. She would be fine, she assured herself.