Kahlil dragged Bianca through the front doors. He didn't stop in the foyer. He pulled her into the center of the brightly lit living room and shoved her forward.
Bianca lost her balance. She fell hard onto the leather sofa. Her spine cracked against the stiff cushions. A sharp jolt of pain shot up her back, clearing the last remnants of the whiskey from her brain. Her blood ran cold, quickly replaced by a boiling, violent humiliation.
Kahlil stood towering over her. His chest heaved. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides.
"Explain." He spat the word out.
Bianca pushed her hands against the leather cushions and forced herself to sit up. She rubbed her throbbing wrist. Her eyes met his, completely devoid of fear now. Only ice remained.
"Explain what?" she snapped. "That I went out for a drink? That I got drunk? That a friend drove me home?"
Kahlil let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-snarl. "Friend? A friend who holds you like a lover? Who looks at you with hunger? Who whispers in your ear while you lean on him like a wanton?"
Bianca's stomach lurched. She jumped to her feet. The sudden movement made her dizzy, and she swayed, grabbing the edge of the heavy glass coffee table to keep from falling. Her face was chalk-white.
"Don't you dare!" she yelled, her voice tearing through her throat. "Aydin was just being a decent human being, unlike you!"
"Decent?" Kahlil closed the distance between them in one stride. He pointed a shaking finger inches from her face. "Decent men don't touch married women! They don't offer 'personal rides' at midnight!"
Bianca backed away from his aggressive energy until her shoulder blades hit the cold, hard plaster of the wall. She was trapped.
A sharp cramp twisted her stomach. The alcohol and the adrenaline were warring inside her body, making her nauseous. She swallowed hard, refusing to break eye contact.
"You're sick, Kahlil," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "Sick with jealousy and paranoia. You hate me, remember? So why do you care who I'm with?"
The words hit Kahlil like a physical blow. The muscles in his jaw locked. A dark, ugly red crept up his neck.
"I don't care!" he roared. The sound vibrated the crystal glasses on the bar cart. "I care about my dignity! My property! You are my wife in name, and you will not make a fool of me!"
The word property echoed in the silent room.
Bianca stopped breathing. A hot tear spilled over her lower lash line, tracking quickly down her cheek. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her shoulders shook.
"Property," she repeated. Her voice was hollow, stripped of all fight. "That's all I am to you. A piece of property. A means to an end."
Kahlil saw the tear. His hands twitched. A flash of intense, suffocating panic crossed his eyes, but he instantly buried it under a fresh layer of cruelty.
"Stop playing the victim!" he barked. "You brought this on yourself! Running away, drinking, whoring around-"
Smack.
The sharp, explosive sound of flesh hitting flesh stopped his words instantly.
Bianca's right hand hung in the air, stinging and trembling violently.
Kahlil's head was turned sharply to the left. A bright red handprint bloomed across his cheekbone. He stood completely frozen. He slowly turned his head back to look at her. The shock in his eyes was absolute.
Bianca didn't lower her hand. Her chest heaved. "Don't you ever... ever call me that again."
Her voice was low, vibrating with a deadly calm. "I have never been unfaithful to you. Not with Aydin, not with anyone. The only thing I'm guilty of is being trapped in this farce of a marriage with a man who despises me!"
Kahlil stared at her. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He opened his mouth, but his throat worked soundlessly. He let out a low, frustrated growl, spun on his heel, and marched toward the grand staircase.
"Where are you going?" Bianca called after him, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "To call your lawyer? To start the divorce papers you've been dreaming of?"
Kahlil stopped at the bottom step. He didn't turn around. His shoulders were rigid. "Divorce? You think it's that easy? You're not going anywhere until I say so."
He looked over his shoulder. His eyes were black voids. "And you will stay away from Aydin Lee. I won't warn you again."
He took the stairs two at a time. The heavy thud of his footsteps faded down the second-floor hallway. A door slammed shut.
Bianca stood alone in the massive living room. The adrenaline crashed.
A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through her stomach. She gasped, her hands flying to her abdomen. Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the hardwood floor, curling into a tight ball. The cold sweat poured down her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to even scream as the agony tore her apart.
