Dangerous Passion
Tomas Chevalier
Copyright 2011 Circlehouse Publishing
CHAPTER ONE
Robert's primal scream broke through the air of tension as the saucepan clattered against the wall. The small but luxurious apartment in New York City had suddenly become a war zone.
“Six o'clock, you told me! It's half past fucking eight!”
Scarlett McLean cowered in the corner of the kitchen as her husband launched his tirade of abuse at her.
“I... I got caught up at the office. We've got a really important deadline and...”
“Important deadline? Important? What could be more important than coming home on time to see your husband?!”
“It wasn't like that, honey. We're real busy at work right now, and...”
“Hah! Busy at work? Do you want me to call the office and see how busy you really have been? I think we both know what they'll say, don't we? You haven't been at the office all, have you? You've been out fucking some guy.”
“Honey, don't be ridiculous...”
“I can smell aftershave on you, Scarlett!”
“No you can't – because you're completely wrong.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
Scarlett realized she would not win. She could never win. She never had in the past and she never would now.
Her life had been one great series of failures: one after the other ever since she was 21. At that age, sweet, young and innocent, she had met Robert. Tall, dark and handsome, he was every girl's dream. Robert had swept Scarlett off her feet with romantic gestures and promises of a life of eternal happiness.
They had got involved too soon; far too soon. Within six months they were married. It was on their wedding night that Robert had first hit Scarlett. The rage had boiled up inside him as he watched her dance provocatively with – with that guy. On her wedding night. Robert's reasoning was insane, she told herself. This man was her cousin. Her cousin. Why should she not be allowed to dance with her own cousin on her wedding day? Granted, she had had a few drinks – perhaps she was not the best judge of her own actions that evening – but then so had Robert. She felt this was why she had forgiven him. Alcohol did bad things to good people. Besides, who would want to throw away a marriage which was barely hours old because of one stupid mistake? Little had she known that this marriage was going to turn into one stupid mistake after the other.
The incidents had been ongoing. She told herself it was because Robert had been stressed with work; that he was finding it hard to cope. She told herself he didn't really mean it. He told her he was sorry. There would be tears and tantrums, sobs and self-disgust. Robert would declare his undying love for Scarlett and tell her he'd never deliberately harm a bone in her body. Everything would be fine for a couple of weeks and then he'd do it again.
She turned and moved to walk towards the door.
Big mistake.
Robert's fist weighed down on the back of her skull like a monster blow, sending her sprawling forward with a deep guttural exhalation. She staggered – trying to regain her footing – and buckled sideways into the telephone table.
Her hip stung in agony as she lay on the floor; her head pounding with a dull pain she recognized only too well. She felt a strange sense of serenity as she lay there; the taste of blood in her mouth; the rusty, ferrous sensation permeating the depths of her nasal cavity.
“Don't ever call me a liar.”
As if she was going to make that mistake twice.
CHAPTER TWO
She she lay in her bed, sobbing and crying, Scarlett contemplated what her life had become. Why was she with this vicious, violent, abusive man? The man who used her as a human punchbag; who psychologically exploited her; who emotionally blackmailed her. She supposed she loved him; she must do if she was still here with him. Why else would she remain? She was no sadistic glutton for punishment – she told herself as much.
The rain pattered on the window as she pondered life alone, dismissing Robert's existence – just for one fleeting moment. It was impossible. She was useless alone. She needed companionship; security; love. Regardless of Robert's behavior, she could not deny him those three attributes.
The rhythmic pattering of the rain was interrupted by three knocks on the door.
“Who is it?” she asked, knowing damn well who it was. Who else could it be when only the two of them lived here?
“It's me. Can I come in?”
“If you must.”
Facing away from the door, Scarlett sensed Robert walking toward her. It was a deep connection they shared – another reason not to leave him, she told herself. The bed beneath her shifted slightly as he sat behind her.
“Honey, I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me – I just got so angry and upset because I thought you had lied to me.”
“Everyone gets upset, Robert – not everyone lashes out and leaves their wife bleeding.”
“You're bleeding? Oh my God, I'm really sorry, honey. I honestly have no idea what I was doing.”
Robert's lack of self-control never ceased to amaze her. How could anyone fly into a rage and punch another human being to the floor without knowing what they were doing? Excuses. The violence had to stop. With Christmas so close, she could not afford to cause any rifts right now. She would raise the subject with Robert in the new year.
“Don't worry. It's fine.”
“It's not fine, Scarlett. I'm a monster for what I've done to you.”
And you'll do it again within a fortnight, she told herself – the voice of reason coming unexpectedly to the surface.
If I had another option – she told herself – if I had a plan B I'd be out of here like a shot. That was the problem, though – there was no plan B.
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, as she walked into the kitchen, her eyes glanced at the saucepan which lay askew on the tiled floor; a triangular dent set into the burnt orange wall. Burnt orange was the color she and Robert had chosen last year to replace the revolting lime green the previous tenants had left them with.
She winced now as she remembered the state the apartment had been in when they moved in. The sitting room walls adorned with dragon motifs and bright, garish colors all around. The furniture had been left for them – revolting new-age, modernist crap. The new furniture which bedecked their apartment now was vintage European furniture. Mock Queen Anne side cabinets and solid oak tables.
Scarlett loved Europe. She had visited London three times on business and adored the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the city. She loved the way you could find anything you wanted in London within a couple of miles. Their underground train system made everything so easy – if not a little expensive.
Aside from London, she loved Rome and Madrid with their stunning renaissance architecture and beatnik cultural influences. Europe was where free spirit belonged – not in an apartment block in down-town New York.
She walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. Rummaging in the cupboard for the jar of instant coffee with one hand, she flicked the kettle switch on with the other and the kettle roared to life – the cracking and popping of the heating element filling the kitchen with the distant sounds of bonfire night.
Suddenly, she felt the hands on her hips and jumped, letting out a small shriek.
“Woah, hey. It's only me, honey.”
Jesus Christ. Robert.
“You scared me!”
“Hey, I'm sorry. I did say 'hi' but I don't think you heard me over the noise of that thing. How's your head?”
Her head. She had forgotten about her head. The punch. The fight. No, not forgotten – erased it from her mind.
“Oh, yeah, fine. Do you want coffee?” she said, dismissively.
“Sure. But hey, I wanted to ask you something, actually.”
“Go on.”
“I spoke to mom yesterday. Isaac is in the country and she said perhaps we should all get together for Christmas Day. I suggested they all come here. Whaddya say?”
“Isaac? Your brother Isaac?”
“Half brother,”, he said, with a slight air of disdain. “I thought it might be a nice idea.”
Scarlett vaguely recalled Robert telling her of his half-brother – the half-brother he barely saw – the half-brother whom his mother had given birth to at the age of seventeen as the result of a fling with a French businessman and who, on reaching the golden age himself, had left the US for his cultural home in Paris.
“It sounds lovely, Robert, but I thought your mom hadn't spoken to Isaac since he was seventeen?”
“She hadn't. Not until recently. I'm not sure whether it's water under the bridge or if they're just making an effort. But hey, it's Christmas. We can give it a go, right? You could invite your parents and your sister too. It could be a proper family Christmas.”
Yeah, great. A proper family Christmas with the psychotic mother-in-law and her delinquent French son.
“Yeah, that sounds lovely.”
She could not bring herself to disagree.
CHAPTER FOUR
The gold bracelet sparkled as Scarlett rested the place mats on the dining table. It was a Christmas present from Robert – a stunning Christmas present. That morning they had made love as the sun rose on Christmas Day and just for a fleeting moment all their troubles had gone away.
Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad after all. Perhaps when Robert's family came over he would change – the stress would ebb away and they could have their perfect family life which he had always promised her. She knew he wouldn't break his promise. No matter what else Robert was, he was a man of his word.
She hummed along to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen on the radio as she delicately placed the silver knives and forks at the side of each place mat – ensuring each one was exactly the right distance from the other and at the perfect elevation.
The napkins were exquisitely folded and each crystal glass was highly polished. This Christmas was going to be just perfect.
Satisfied, she smiled to herself and went into the kitchen to prepare the food. Minutes later, the kitchen door flew open and slammed against the refrigerator.
“What the hell is this all about?!” Robert was apoplectic with rage.
“What is what about?”
“This!” Robert gestured toward the dining table and Scarlett, wiping her hands on the dishcloth, followed him through the door.
She could see no obvious problem.
“What is it? I can't see anything wrong?”
“You can't see anything wrong? You've seated me in between your fucking parents!”
He was right – she had. But for good reason.
“Calm down, Robert. I know I have. You don't get along incredibly well with them so I thought perhaps seeing as it's Christmas and things seem to be looking up, you might want to try and...”
“You deliberately sat me in between two people I hate? Two people I loathe?”
The spittle rained down on Scarlett's face as she tried to understand the situation.
“No, it wasn't like that. I just thought...”
“That's just the problem! You don't think!”
With the penultimate word, as though carefully choreographed, the back of Robert's hand slapped across Scarlett's face. She did not lose her footing. She was getting good at this.
“How the hell could you do this to me, Scarlett?”
As she stared into his eyes, she could see the veins throbbing at his temples; the rage bursting from his bright red cheeks. He tightened his grip around her neck as he shook her back and forth.
“What the FUCK were you thinking?”
“Robert, please... you're... hurting me...”
“I'm hurting you?! Don't make me laugh!”
“Please, Robert... I... I can't breathe...”
He relaxed his grip and Scarlett dropped to her knees, grasping at her own throat and sucking in that fresh, beautiful air.
“I,” he said, calmly walking round the table and repositioning the place mats, “will be sitting next to you, my dear.”
He sauntered back towards Scarlett before kneeling before her and pushing his face into hers.
“And I'll be keeping a very close eye on you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Dusting the last of her face powder over the concealer and foundation which she had so expertly learned to apply to her cuts and bruises, Scarlett registered the ringing doorbell and went downstairs to answer the door.
She greeted Robert's mother as cordially as she felt able to greet the creator of the man who had beaten her to a pulp over the past few years.
“Hello, Martha. Merry Christmas.”
“And Merry Christmas to you, dear. Isaac's just coming – he's got the rest of the presents from the car. Is Robert inside?”
“He's upstairs, I think.”
Robert's mother walked through into the kitchen as Scarlett heard the footsteps approaching the apartment from the hall. As he rounded the corner, Scarlett noticed the tall, tanned man with luscious shoulder-length brown hair and the eyes of an angel.
“Hello, you must be Scarlett,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on both cheeks – the French custom, she supposed – before introducing himself.
“I'm Isaac. Robert's half-brother.”
Scarlett's heart fluttered as she found herself looking into his eyes and saying his name.
“Hello, Isaac. I'm Scarlett.” She stopped short of adding Robert's wife. She felt strangely as though she didn't want to admit it to Isaac. How ridiculous, she thought. He's his brother!
As she stood by to let Isaac enter the flat, she couldn't help but notice the way his firm buttocks clenched and swayed in his trendy jeans. He may have been almost eight years older than Robert, but my God did he make her feel young again.
Suddenly, she was sixteen years old and back at college as she felt her body rubbing against Joe Murdoch's. How good she felt – how alive. Joe Murdoch had made her feel a million dollars and she had rewarded him with her virginity. Now, she fantasized about feeling Isaac inside her.
Stop it, she told herself. Although things were not perfect between her and Robert, she could not see reason in having those thoughts about another man – especially not his brother.
Half-brother, the devil on her other shoulder told her. And they haven't even seen each other for years.
By the time dinner was over, Scarlett could describe Isaac's perfect features in intimate detail. She hoped she had not given her attraction away as she fawned over the way those dimples appeared in his cheeks as he smiled and his eyes lit up when he spoke of Paris.
“You don't have much of an accent,” she said as they reached a lull in the conversation.
Isaac let out a small chuckle. “Did you expect me to turn up in a beret with a string of onions around my neck? I was almost an adult when I moved to France.”
Scarlett felt immediately stupid. “I'm sorry, I just meant... sometimes some people...”
“Don't worry. You're right – some people do.” His smile was all-knowing and ever so charming. Scarlett felt the physical warmth growing inside her chest.
“So, what's it like, Paris?”
“Oh, it's incredible. Have you never been?”
“No, but I love Europe. I've been to London, Rome and Madrid.”
“Oh! it's all those and more. The people are so liberated and charming, the food is fantastic, and the women... wow!”
Scarlett was unsure as to how she felt about this remark. On the one hand, she was unimpressed with what seemed to be a typically chauvinistic comment. On the other, the thought of Isaac's experienced sexual prowess excited her in ways she could not describe.
“You really must come over some time. You'd
love the scenery and the atmosphere. I tell you – there is nothing quite like sitting in the center of Paris, enjoying a cup of the most fantastic coffee whilst staring up at the Arc de Triomphe. It really is divine.”
The thoughts of spending a week; a weekend; a day; hell, even a minute in Paris with Isaac excited and stirred Scarlett in ways she could not imagine. Although she tried to hide it, secretly she hoped he could tell.
Slightly embarrassed, Scarlett excused herself and made her way toward the bathroom. Once inside, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror as the droplets ran off her face. Wow, she mouthed, before drying her face with a towel and unbolting the door.
As she opened the door she almost let out a small yelp as she found Isaac stood before her.
“Sorry – didn't realize there was a queue,” he said, smiling attractively, “I'm not used to having to wait.”
Scarlett found herself inches from him, staring wistfully at his lips as she spoke the words before she had even thought them. “Who said you have to wait?”
Before she could even analyze what she had said, her eyes had fallen shut and her lips found Isaac's. Caught in a deep embrace, Scarlett moaned as she pulled Isaac towards her and pressed her pelvis against him. The passion was intense, but brief. Releasing her lips from his, she stopped to catch her breath.
“Oh God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what...”
“Don't be sorry,” he said, “I was kind of hoping you'd do that.”
With a soft, but lingering kiss, he went into the bathroom and bolted the door. Scarlett was flushed and embarrassed but God, so excited. Clearing her throat, she straightened her blouse and walked back towards the dining room.
Nervously, she smiled at Robert as she sat next to him.
“Everything OK?”
“As well as it can be.” His tone suggested negativity but there was no way he had known about her attraction to Isaac. He would have reacted by now if he had.
CHAPTER SIX
Scarlett's eyes met Isaac's, directly opposite her, as she took a swig of red wine. As she drank, she felt his upper foot rubbing her calf, gently and seductively. Instinctively, she coughed and let out a gasp.