So I barely stumble over my words when I tell him why Samuel visits me in my dreams. “My husband never had sex with me. Not once in the time we dated, nor in the time we were married.”
Rand blinks at me in surprise. “Come again?”
I know why he’s surprised. Who in the world didn’t look at Samuel and me together and not whisper to their friend with judgmental looks, “Well… we know why he married her.”
Everyone thought Samuel pulled me away from topless dancing so that he could have a beautiful young wife who would fuck him day and night and that perhaps he’d regain his youth that way. He was certainly rich enough to get any beauty he wanted, and he was powerful enough in Vegas that no one would dare laugh in his face over the disparity in age.
But that’s not the way it was with Samuel. So I try to explain him to Rand. “I thought when he asked me to marry him that he wanted a conventional marriage. I mean… don’t get me wrong… I didn’t love him and his money enticed me. I was tired of taking my top off and having men stick their grubby hands down my panties when they tipped me. I saw his mansion and imagined myself living there. I swam in the designer clothes and expensive jewelry he bought me while we dated. I thought I knew what he wanted in return. In exchange for him giving me a stable life, I’d be a wife to him in every way, and I was prepared to do that. But he never did anything more when we were dating other than give me kisses on my cheek and hold my hand. I thought he was old fashioned and sweet. It was charming to me.”
I stop for a moment, trying to gauge the look on Rand’s face, because I can’t begin to imagine what he’s thinking. But he clues me in quick enough when he says, “You were trying to survive life.”
I lower my gaze and can’t help the tiny smile that comes to me… because he gets it. He understands me without even knowing me.
“I left home not long after I’d turned seventeen. Mom was a bitch—an entire story unto itself I’ll tell you about some time. Lived on the streets for a while, practically starved to death at times. I learned to hustle and dealt some petty drugs to put food in my stomach. Gave a blow job or two so I could crash on someone’s couch rather than sleep outside.”
“Cat… you were surviving,” Rand says, arm loosening from my waist and his hand coming to my hip where he gives it a squeeze.
“Yes, but with Samuel, it was different. It wasn’t just survival. I saw a way to better my life.”
“You did what a lot of women in your position would do,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact.
“I married him,” I agree. “And after he put that ring on my finger, he made my life a living hell.”
Rand’s body stiffens and his fingers dig into my hip a bit. It doesn’t hurt, but it tells me he’s immediately on edge, so I bring my hand to his chest and lay it over his heart, stroking his skin with my thumb. Then, I proceed to tell him what a monster Samuel was.
“At first, he didn’t do anything. For a few weeks, he sort of ignored me. I moved into his house and had my own room. I started to think that perhaps he was nervous to be with me, or maybe even had physical problems and couldn’t, but he was never around for me to talk to about it. And then… well, I got comfortable living a solitary but rich life. I had my own credit cards and could shop whenever I wanted to. I spent hours in spas and salons, having everyone cater to the hotelier Samuel Vaughn’s new wife. I thought that was the way my life would be, and I was really okay with that. I mean… Samuel was old and I wasn’t looking forward to those duties as a wife even though I was prepared to do it if he wanted.”
“Yeah, I could never imagine you and him together,” Rand says with a thoughtful smile.
I give a small laugh in agreement, but he won’t be smiling for much longer. “One day, Samuel sent word to me from his assistant that he was having a business dinner at the house and wanted me to join him. I thought it was awesome. Boredom was getting to me. I thought I could at least be a wife to Samuel in some ways by letting him show me off to people he wanted to impress.”
“I get the feeling this is going somewhere I’m not going to like,” Rand says hesitantly. He knows it’s bad if I have nightmares about Samuel, and it is bad. Best to rip the band-aid off and all.
“When I walked into the dining room that night, it became clear pretty quickly that I was what was being served on the menu. There were five of them… all business associates, I think. I heard bits and pieces of conversation while they were all fucking me that led me to believe that. My husband conducted business right there in the dining room while those men took turns with me. He watched from the end of the table and egged them on, encouraging them to do whatever they wanted to me.”
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Rand growls as he rears upward. My hand immediately goes to his shoulder, and I push him back down.
“You need to listen so I can get this all out,” I urge him gently.