“Damn it, London!” Harris snapped, like he was pissed that I was interrupting his call with his mistress. Like he was mad at me for talking so that she could hear me. He quickly hung up the phone, and when I went to reach for it, he pulled away.
“Give me the phone, Harris,” I demanded. “Who is the bitch? Have some balls about your shit. Man up and let me have the fucking phone!”
He wasn’t giving it up without a fight, that was for sure. I could feel my towel loosening as we tussled, but I didn’t care. I was determined to find out who the hell was coming between me and my man.
“London, you’re acting like a fool. Stop it!” Harris shouted, still holding the phone out of my reach.
I continued to press forward, trying to grab the phone out of his hand.
“Did you hear me? Stop it!” Harris followed up with a slap that I swear made me lose my hearing for a few seconds.
I stood there, still a little damp, with the towel now at my ankles. I was holding the side of my face and head where he had laid one on me. The pain was excruciating, enough to make me cry.
Harris had put his hands on me before, but this time there was so much rage behind it. So much power. Even he could tell he’d landed a mighty blow. It showed in the look of instant regret that shot across his face.
“London ... oh my God. Baby, I’m sorry.” He took a step toward me, but I jerked back.
“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” I held the side of my face gingerly. “Harris, I swear, if you ever put your hands on me again, I’ll kill you,” I said in a low growl.
“What?” His regretful tone suddenly vanished. “Look, I said I was sorry, but don’t make this worse by making idle threats. You ain’t got the guts to kill me.”
He was right. I didn’t have the guts, but I knew who did. “Maybe, but let’s see if I have the guts to tell my father you’ve been hitting me. I didn’t have a problem telling Vegas that time, did I?”
The first time he’d ever hit me, I told my brother Vegas, and it wasn’t pretty. I actually had to tell Vegas I was lying to stop him from killing Harris—and I made sure Harris understood that I’d saved his life. Now anytime things got too out of hand, all I had to do was threaten to tell my father or my brothers, and Harris would snap right back in place.
“You’d do that? You’d tell your father something like that and ruin our family?” Harris shot back. He was forever trying to play the family card. What he failed to understand was that husband or not, I was a Duncan long before I was a Grant, and I wouldn’t hesitate to play my own family card if he ever got too heavy-handed with me.
“I will do whatever I have to do to stop you from hitting me,” I threatened, although I had already decided that at least this time he was off the hook with the family. There was too much drama with the business right now for me to distract everyone with this bullshit. Besides, this whole fight had started because of a stupid phone call. Last thing I wanted to do was start some shit between my husband and the family. Then my marriage would be over, and the home-wrecking bitch would have won.
“I am not your punching bag,” I reminded him.
He sighed, taking a second to reflect. “Look, I know that. I’m sorry, but you just know how to push my buttons,” he replied, walking over and gently touching my shoulders. “If you want, I’ll go to counseling. I’ll do whatever it takes, but I want you to keep this between us.”
“I don’t know who she is, Harris, but get rid of her before I get rid of you. That punch I just took woke up a lioness that’s about ready to go on the prowl. You don’t want to see that side of me.”
“You wouldn’t,” he challenged.
I countered with, “Let that disrespectful bitch call you one more time and I guess we’ll both find out, won’t we?”