Page 25 of Malicious Marriage

“Come on, what do you say?” He leans closer and slides his other hand around my waist.

My hand reacts with a mind of its own, and the sharpcrackof my palm striking his cheek echoes in the night air.

We both freeze and my heart stalls in my chest.

What the fuck have I done?

Ryan’s grip turns to iron and his hand moves from my forearm to my upper arm where his nails cut painfully into the soft flesh there. “Are you fucking insane? I offer you a way out of your insane debt and this is how you treat me?”

He slaps me so hard my ears ring and tears spring into my eyes, but as I lift my head, he slaps me again. The third slap is so hard that my earring pierces into the flesh behind my ear and pain sears through my head.

“I’m sorry!” I gasp as tears escape down my cheeks, and I try to defend myself but his next open-palmed slap sends me to my knees with my arm still twisted awkwardly up into his grip.

“I was going to cover for you. A little bit of that foul slit between your legs and I would have called off my boss, but you know what? He’s right. You’re a fucking liability, Clover. You owe us too much now and I know your fucking uncle isn’t going to help you pay a dime. So unless you want to end up in thegutter, the next time I find you, I expect you to have the full amountwithinterest!”

“Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” I gasp, staring up at him through my tears while my cheek throbs in time to my racing heart. “I owe you tens of thousands!”

“Exactly. When I lent shit to you, you told me it would just be a few months. Now it’s been years, so listen closely, Clover. I want my money, understand? Or next time, I’ll take what you owe in flesh!”

11

DEAN

“Where is she?” My hands land on the desk, making the nurse on the other side jump out of her skin.

“Excuse me, sir. Lower your tone!”

“I’m sorry,” I gasp, breathless from the sprint down the hall. “I’m sorry. I was told that Trisha Wilcox had been brought in. Problems with the baby? My baby? Are they okay?”

The nurse’s expression softens and she smiles slightly. “I understand, Mr. Wilcox. Come with me.”

I don’t bother correcting her. Ideally, I’d never lay eyes on Trisha for the rest of my life, but unfortunately, she’s carrying my baby, and a child is a commitment I will honor even if the pregnancy was a complete accident.

In the moments hurrying down the hall, however, all the hatred I have for that terrible woman is on pause. The child she carries, my child, is the only reason we’re even still in contact. I’ve done my best to distance myself from her and her toxic ways, but something about the baby just keeps dragging me back. I don’t allow myself to entertain the idea of being a father because I know I’ll easily be sucked into playing family with her. But the sudden prospect of trouble with the child and the terrified voicein my mind taunting me with a possible loss are sobering. My hatred for her can be shelved for now until I know what’s wrong.

“In here, sir. Your wife is resting.” The nurse ushers me into a softly lit room where Trisha rests back against countless pillows with one hand over her swollen belly. Her eyes snap to me immediately and fat tears well in her eyes.

“Dean!”

“Trisha.” Rushing to her side, I instinctively take her hand while scanning the machines and her belly for a clue as to what is going on. “What’s happened? What’s wrong with the baby?”

“Oh, Dean!” The tears fall and Trish dissolves into deep, open-mouthed sobs as she clutches at my arm. The pain in her tears is gut-wrenching and my heart sinks down into the dark pit forming in my stomach.

Oh, no.

Please… no.

“Trisha?” Cupping her wet face, I tip her head up to try and encourage her to look in my eyes. “Please, tell me what’s happened? What’s wrong with our baby?”

Is it alive?

That question blares in my mind like a siren as a strange, painful static sensation floods my ribs. It’s like I already know the answer deep in my soul and the world around me grows a shade darker.

“It’s too painful.” She gasps, clawing at my arm. For a moment, I see the woman I first fell in love with. The bright spirit with an insane sense of humor and bucketloads of kindness. Now she rests against me, sobbing her heart out, and warmth stings behind my eyes.

I should have been faster. I should have gotten here sooner, should have run faster up the stairs orsomething. I should have been better?—

“Your baby is fine.” The nurse stands in the doorway with a very confused expression on her face. “Mr. Wilcox, your child is completely fine. Your wife came in with terrible pain and cramping but it was just trapped gas. Mother and baby are fine.”