As the conflict piles on, and I watch Ruby interact with Bancroft’s family, I begin to see exactly how challenging this thing with Lex really is, with or without these new developments. If what’s happening between us becomes public the complications will grow exponentially. I won’t be able to avoid Gwendolyn or Armstrong, or the rest of his family, because it will tie me to them irrevocably. It’ll invite all kinds of new issues.
Ones I’m not sure I’m prepared for yet, even if I want to be.
It would be another messy situation that could bring more negative attention to my family. The kind I thought I was going to leave behind when I married Armstrong. As I sit here, I mourn the future I thought I would have with the version of Armstrong who didn’t really exist and my fear over the potential loss of something amazing with Lex. With him I don’t feel confined by someone else’s idea of who or what I should be. I worry that part of that freedom is rooted in the secrecy of it all.
After dinner, I busy myself with more duties that keep me away from Lex, who’s engaged in conversations with the suits. Even so, I can feel his eyes on me whenever I pass him. I know he’s concerned, but I don’t have time to acknowledge it now. And I don’t want to. All I want is to escape. To run. Because I’m scared to face all of this.
The emotions swirl with the cocktail combination swimming in my system. I should probably slow down on the wine. I excuse myself to the restroom so I can take a moment to collect myself.
I manage to make it to the foyer unaccosted. But before I can get much further I spot the one person in the entire world I definitely don’t want to see. Well, actually, there are a few people I would be happy to never see again. I have a short list of ex-boyfriends who fit that profile, but Armstrong tops that list.
He’s skulking in a corner, like some kind of creep. I make a beeline for the ladies’ bathroom, hoping I can get there before he makes it to me. I’m not quick enough in my heels. Also, I’ve had three glasses of wine and not enough food. My head isn’t a hundred percent clear and I’m a little turned around.
The hand at my elbow catches me off guard, but the mouth at my ear makes my skin crawl. “Don’t make a scene, darling.”
It’s exactly what I should do, but before I can react and make a smart decision, I’m led through the closest door, which happens to be a coatroom.
“Get your hands off me.” I yank my arm out of Armstrong’s grip and shove away from him.
There’s no residual evidence of his broken nose, the marks on his face have all disappeared, nothing compared to the marks he’s left on my heart. Not just because he broke it with his actions, but because his dishonesty is and was so horribly hurtful, and he still refuses to set me free.
He looks me over, his cheek ticking as he takes in my dress. I can practically feel his disapproval. If only he could see what I’m wearing under this. Zero white lace or satin happening.
“Why are you here?” There’s a tremor in my voice, but it’s not fear, it’s anger. Anger at this situation. Anger at myself for making such a poor decision for all the wrong reasons. Because I didn’t trust my gut. And now I have to wonder if I’ve misread everything and I’m making another mistake with Lex.
Armstrong gives me a look that makes me feel about two inches tall. Until he speaks. “You won’t take my calls and they won’t let me past the front desk at your work, when else was I going to have an opportunity to see you?”
“You don’t need to see me. At all. Ever. That’s what our lawyers are for. It’s been months of back and forth over this. Just sign the papers and be done with me, Armstrong.”
He blinks several times, his agitation obvious. I doubt it in any way matches mine. “I don’t want to be done with you.”
I throw my hands in the air. “You can’t win me back. Nothing you can say or do is going to change my mind. You will never convince me to get over what you’ve done.”
He seems to consider that for a second, and then his eyes light up a little. “What if you were the only one?”
“For the love of God, Armstrong, that shouldn’t even be a question. It should’ve been only me from the beginning. For the rest of our lives.” I flail angrily. “But that’s not even the point now. I don’t want to be with you. The knowledge that I ever let you touch me, let you inside my body, makes me want to vomit. Do you get that? I can’t even stand your face.”
“Your explanation is sufficient, if not excessively dramatic.” He lifts one placating hand.
I would like to cut it off with a hacksaw and shove it down his stupid, useless throat. I think I should stop watching horror movies with Ruby for a while.
“You can’t hold this grudge forever, it’s unreasonable.”
I wonder if there’s a clinical diagnosis for his kind of messed up. I’ve had about as much of Armstrong as I can handle. I need to get out of here and away from him. “I don’t have anything else to say to you.”
I turn away, toward the door. His next words freeze me.
“I know about Mexico.”
The pit in my stomach opens back up, churning. I slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”
His smile is smug. “Mexico. I know about it.”
I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see my shaking hands. “What exactly do you think you know about Mexico?”
“You have quite the history of bad behavior, don’t you, Amalie?”
“Your definition of bad behavior is rather skewed, don’t you think?”
“I think an arrest record counts. Your father had to work pretty hard to keep that under wraps, didn’t he? It really isn’t very good for business, is it?”
“I don’t have an arrest record.” I was just hanging out with someone who did, which was essentially the issue.
“I wonder how that would go over with your current employer, knowing how closely aligned you’ve been with known felons.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me into staying married to your pathetic, tiny-dicked ass?”
“My dick is more than adequate. Maybe you’ve just been overly free with who you put out for and you’re too worked in.”
I cross the room in three quick strides, hand poised to slap that smug smile off his face, but he’s expecting the attack. He grabs my wrist and steps into me, folding my arm behind my back as he pushes me against the wall. His grip on my arm sends a shot of pain to my shoulder. “You’re hurting me.”
“You were going to hit me, again, I’m defending myself.”
“This is harassment.”
He scoffs and suddenly his expression is dark, that smug smile dropping. “You may want to reconsider your position on this annulment, Amalie. In addition to your history of physical violence, I don’t think it would go over well if people found out about your time in prison.”