Which of them is right?
As if sensing my increasing nervousness, Ashton changed the subject. “I want to show you around the house, but I just need ten minutes to finish up some paperwork.”
“That’s okay, I can head on up to my room.” I tugged at my hands. He still hadn’t let me go.
“Are you going to hide, or for another reason?”
His tone, coupled with the tilt of his chin and his assessing eyes, made it clear he wouldn’t let me go if he didn’t like my answer, but for once, that didn’t scare me. What the difference was I couldn’t say, but I answered honestly. “I want to put the new clothes away and change before dinner.”
He took a step forward and lifted my hand to his mouth, touching his lips against my skin. “Your new clothes, Elena, and I think that’s an excellent idea. But keep the dress on. You look great in it.”
Heat rushed to my face and I nodded, taking my hand from his as soon as he let me, and scurrying out the door. In the safety of my room, I took deep gulping breaths. No man had ever had an effect like that on my body. Every part of me felt like flames were burning paths down every nerve ending in my body. Then I remembered what brought me here in the first place. Dominic was my husband. I loved him. I’d sworn to love and obey him until death and I’d meant it. So why, for just one moment, did it feel like everything with him was wrong.
A knock against wood interrupted my thoughts, the hinges creaking as the door opened slowly. Ashton stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, his eyes on the bags at the foot of the bed. I hadn’t managed to put anything away. My face flushed.
“Ready for the tour?”
I nodded, not trusting my tongue to work correctly. Being near him sent my heart into overdrive and made me breathless.
“Then let’s go.”
It turned out the house was even bigger than I’d imagined. All the bedrooms were on the second floor and each had its own bath. The first floor had everything from a pool to a game room, a small library to a kitchen bigger than my whole apartment. Thoughts of ways to spend my days rushed through my head before I had a chance to push them aside like I normally would.
“Your home is beautiful.”
Ashton smiled. “Thank you. For the next few months it’s your home as well. Every room in this house is for your use. You don’t need to spend the whole time hiding in your bedroom.” He winked and I felt a flutter deep in my stomach. I might have lied and said I would do that, but that wouldn’t help Dominic. Then again, he had just handed me over.
“I’ll try not to, but unless I’m cooking or cleaning, I really don’t know what to do with myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He placed his hand at the small of my back, leading me toward the kitchen and dining room. The touch was intimate and unfamiliar but he left no room for me to question it. “Let’s have dinner.”
The guilt for not contributing to dinner overwhelmed me, yet I kept silent. My stomach clenched, waiting for permission. Ashton had already made it very clear that I didn’t need to cook for him and I didn’t want to risk upsetting him by going over old ground. When we reached the dining room, I saw the table was set and covered with food. Ashton led me to a seat and pulled out the chair for me. Again, I wasn’t used to such a gesture. Dominic usually just sat down and began eating.
“What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
My response was immediate. Instinctive. He stepped next to my chair and placing his finger under my chin, he lifted my gaze to his. “Starting now, you need to start making your own decisions.”
My eyes slid closed and my voice wavered. “I’m not sure I know how. Can’t you just decide? Dominic always decides for me.”
“That’s part of the problem. I’m going to teach you how to make your own choices.”
His direct way of talking gave me the courage to ask, “Why is it wrong that Dominic helps me make decisions? He’s teaching me how to be a good wife.”
There was a slight paused before Ashton answered, and when he did, I noted a tone to his voice that I recognized all too well. He was unhappy. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that from you. He’s not teaching you, Elena, he’s controlling you—there’s a big difference. As long as he has control, you’ll stay with him, no matter how badly he treats you.”
“He doesn’t treat me badly,” I whispered, doing so because a lot of what Ashton had just said made sense, and that in turn was making me question a lot of things; things that I didn’t have time to process right then.
“Oh really? How many times have you cried because of things he said or did the last time you saw him?”
Stunned into silence, I sat there. Dominic made me cry at least three times a day—most days it was more. I didn’t really enjoy crying or hearing him insult me, but I knew it would continue to happen until I learned. I blinked up at Ashton, staring, unsure how to respond.
“I think you just answered my question. Now I’ll ask again, what would you like to drink?”
I knew Ashton wouldn’t let it go until I made a decision so I said quietly, “Can I have a glass of red wine?” It felt good to decide for myself, especially when he didn’t reprimand me for making the wrong choice.
“That I can do.” He smiled and walked to a side table with glasses and different bottles on top and poured two glasses, bringing one to me before taking his own seat, directly opposite me. We passed the dishes back and forth, filling our plates. It all looked so delicious.
“Everything looks wonderful,” I said, unfolding my napkin across my lap.
“Thank you. Julia made it.”
“Julia?”
He smiled. “My housekeeper. I cook for myself most nights, but every once in a while, if I’m busy, she’ll do it. And tonight I wanted to have time to talk instead of cooking.”
“Talk about what?”
“Anything you want.”
Ashton handed over the tray of chicken. Taking a piece, I then finished filling my plate. The room fell silent and I felt the familiar flush of embarrassment as I fumbled for something to say before admitting, “Dominic and I don’t really talk.”
“Let me guess, he doesn’t want to do anything but eat and then do something else.”
I winced when he said “something else.” My sex life was not something I wanted to talk about. Maybe that wasn’t what he was referring to, but that’s where my mind went. With each passing moment his gaze intensified, his eyes darkening, becoming heated. Under his watchful eye a feeling unfurled in my stomach. It wasn’t unwelcome—quite the opposite—but acknowledging that him looking as me was having a physical effect on me . . .
Shame washed over me. Ashton must have noticed because his face went soft. He opened his mouth to say something but I got in first.
“Usually there was a game on he wanted to see. He always ate quickly so he wouldn’t miss it.”
“Did you watch the games with him?”
“No, I had to clean up dinner, get laundry done, make his lunch.”
“So you were his slave.”
I gasped. “No! He’s my husband, it’s my job to take care of him.”
His brows drew together. “But you worked at the diner, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes. I needed to help pay the bills.”
“Yeah, he was definitely spending his paycheck on the bills—that’s why he borrowed money from me in the first place. Jesus, Elena, this isn’t the 1950s. You have a job outside the home; it isn’t your job to take care of him as well. What he’s doing to you—it’s abuse.”
“Dominic’s never laid a hand on me,” I scoffed.