Page 4 of Provocation (Den of Deception #3)

I squeal as I struggle to stand up, but before I can, he grips me by the back of the neck and pushes my face into the cushions.

The backs of my thighs are struck by something hard.

The pain makes me cry out in agony into the couch.

He hits me again, this time on my ass and I pull forward, trying to escape him, involuntary tears flooding my eyes as I claw at the couch.

He does it four more times and when he stops, I feel as if my legs are going to fail me. I’m sobbing, the sounds muffled.

When he lets me go, I immediately scramble back, feeling my feet hit the floor.

My knees threaten to give out and my chest heaves as I whirl around to face him, wiping my cheeks and clearing my eyes.

I see he has a black wooden cane with a silver handle in his hand.

He looks at where my eyes go and smirks.

‘Banderville ladies don’t drink without permission,’ he says, stepping forward and taking my chin in an iron grip so that I have to look at him. ‘There will be some other rules to follow, too. Breaking them leads to harsh punishment, my little pet.’

He leans forward so that his mouth is at my ear. ‘Or you might know it better as correction .’

My mouth drops open as my eyes widen.

He knows about The Heath.

‘How?’ I whisper, pulling away from him.

His eyes linger on my chest for a moment before he answers.

‘Let’s just say this marriage deal has been in the works for a while.’

He’s seen film of me at The Heath. I knew there were cameras, but I never thought…

I feel sick.

I turn and stumble from the room, my stomach twisting as I run down the hallway to the nearest bathroom.

Thankfully, he lets me go. The places where he hit me are burning, but that’s a secondary concern for the moment.

As soon as I’m inside, I throw up the vile dinner that John planned just for me until my stomach is blessedly empty.

When I’m sure there’s no more to come up, I turn toward the mirror and will myself to calm down as I wash my mouth out with water and fix my face.

Good thing Lu gave me waterproof mascara, I think errantly.

Except for my red-rimmed eyes, it doesn’t look like I was just bawling while being bent over a couch and caned by a controlling, psychotic oligarch.

I won’t be marrying Joe, I promise myself. I’m not going to be a part of his horrible family.

I pull my dress up and wince at the bruises that are already blooming on my legs and ass. They’re thick and crisscross each other. Shame envelopes me. Why didn’t I fight back harder? Why did I turn my back on him in the first place? I know better than that. Don’t I?

My eyes narrow as my emotions morph. I hear Mav and Blake’s voices in my head telling me that I shouldn’t be ashamed, that I did nothing wrong. That’s what I know they’d say, and they’d be right. There’s only one thing to feel toward Joe Banderville right now and that’s rage.

That sonofabitch!

My hands clench into fists as I let the dress fall, and I vow that if he ever lays a hand on me again, I’m going to kill him like I killed Mike Larson, only this time, I’ll be smart and not get caught.

I leave the bathroom and stop short as I come face to face with John Novelle himself.

‘Is everything all right, Marguerite?’ he asks with his usual falseness, his eyes trying to penetrate deep into my soul.

‘Of course,’ I say, struggling to hide my anger.

It’s better that he continues to underestimate me. It gives me more of a chance of outsmarting him.

‘I was just powdering my nose.’

I hope it’s not obvious that I was just throwing up my dinner either, but if there’s a smell of half-digested seafood and lemon souffle coming from my person, he doesn’t seem to notice.

‘I got a call from the medical center at Richmond U this week. Apparently, you need some pills?’

‘Yes,’ I say, trying not to make it obvious that I’m clenching my teeth. ‘I get migraines.’

His eyeroll makes me want to launch myself at his wrinkled throat, but I resist.

‘They sell painkillers over the counter for headaches here in the States,’ he says as if I’m an idiot.

I try to discern the point he’s attempting to make without much luck. Even if normal painkillers would do the job, does he think I was allowed to just roam around the English countryside going into chemists… pharmacies for pills?

‘Yes,’ I say sweetly, ‘but my headaches are actually Hemiplegic migraines. Over the counter medicines don’t do anything for them. They were well documented at The Heath, but they only sent me here with a few of the pills they prescribed me.’

‘I see.’ His eyes pierce mine and I make myself stare back for as long as he holds my gaze, even though I want to move my eyes away more than anything.

‘I’ll have my secretary call them and authorize the prescription on Monday,’ he says finally.

‘Thank you so much,’ I demure. ‘They can be so debilitating.’

‘Right.’ He turns away without saying anything more and hurries away as if he can’t get out of my sight quick enough.

The feeling is mutual.

‘Miss Marguerite?’

I glance over to see Stevens by the wall holding a tray with a glass of water and some breath mints on it. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty.’

‘Thanks, Stevens,’ I mutter, taking a gulp of the water and putting it back on the tray in his hands before I grab a mint and pop it into my mouth.

Somehow, this butler always did know everything that was going on in this house at any given time.

‘I’m sorry he brought you back here, Miss Marguerite,’ he says softly.

I give him a sad smile. ‘It’s better than where he put me.’

He lets out a small sigh. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Marguerite. I know that Mrs. Novelle hoped you were happy in England.’ He shakes his head. ‘If she were here, she wouldn’t let this happen.’

I can’t help my scoff. Regardless of the birthday card I found in her room with its sentiments of motherliness , actions speak louder than words and her actions were quite the opposite of what Stevens is saying.

‘Stevens, please. My mother didn’t give a shit about me. She was glad I wasn’t here to cause any more trouble. If she were here now, I have no doubt she’d be throwing me into Joe Banderville’s arms just like John would want her to.’

He’s shaking his head before I’ve even finished speaking.

‘You’re wrong, Miss Marguerite,’ he murmurs. ‘Your mother cared for you a great deal.’

I look at the ground. ‘If you say so.’

I glance up at the butler, and at the tray he’s carrying. He always knows everything that happens here.

‘Stevens, you wouldn’t happen to know where Mr. Novelle’s Venetian shoes have gone, would you? Jack wanted to get him a new pair for Christmas. He was looking for them to get him something similar in the right size, but they weren’t upstairs.’

If Stevens knows I’m lying, he doesn’t let on. ‘I’m afraid Mr. Novelle asked that those shoes be disposed of several weeks ago, Miss Marguerite. He said that they’d become uncomfortable.’

‘Do you know what happened to them?’ I ask.

‘I’d assume they went into the incinerator, Miss.’

‘Not to charity, or something?’

‘No, Miss Marguerite,’ Stevens murmurs. ‘Items rarely leave the premises even when they’re thrown away. They would have been destroyed.’

I let out a small sigh. ‘I see.’

He stands in front of me for a moment, his eyes taking in my face.

‘I was aggrieved when I found out about the accident,’ he says quietly. ‘I was quite fond of your mother, you know.’

I give him another wan smile. ‘She liked you too, Stevens.’

I look around to make sure there’s no one listening, and step a little closer, lowering my voice. ‘That night, the night of the Gala, were you on duty?’

‘I was,’ he says solemnly.

‘Did John go to the gala?’

‘He did, Miss.’

‘And…he came home early?’

‘I believe that Peter went to pick him up from the Gala, yes, but as to the time, I’m afraid I don’t recall.’

‘Okay,’ I sigh, ‘thanks for…’ I trail off, and frown as the butler turns away, replaying his words. ‘Wait.’

He turns back. ‘Was there something else, Miss Marguerite?’

‘You said Peter went to get him, but did he?’

‘I couldn’t say, Miss, but you won’t be able to ask him. He was let go almost two months ago.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I murmur.

‘Forgive me, but I must go about my duties now, Miss Marguerite.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry, Stevens.’

He gives me a shallow bow. ‘I put a box that was found out by the bins in Master Jack’s car the last time he was here. You might want to ask him about it.’

‘Thank you, Stevens,’ I murmur. ‘I will.’

He gives me another short bow just as Marcus comes into view. His eyes find me and he sneers at the butler. ‘Leave.’

Stevens’ gaze flits over me and there’s something in his face that I don’t understand.

‘Of course, sir.’

He leaves me with Marcus, but I notice he looks over his shoulder as he walks down the hall.

Marcus glances from side to side, making sure we’re alone before he gives me a hard push, sending me hard into the nearest wall with an ‘oomph’.

‘Bet you weren’t expecting to become part of the fam, huh, bitch?’

He laughs low. ‘I, for one, can’t fucking wait until you’re my sister. The shit I have planned for you… You’re going to regret pissing me off, you know?’

I say nothing, but I’m sick and tired of being manhandled by Bandervilles tonight, that’s for damn sure. What’s next? Is the father going to emerge from the shadows to slap me across the face?

‘I haven’t told anyone that you changed majors, you know. Not yet.’ He chuckles. ‘That would go down like a fart in a sauna in my family. If you haven’t already begun to understand, the sciences aren’t considered appropriate for Banderville women to study. Even College is frowned upon.’

‘Let me guess what is appropriate. Watercolor? Embroidery?’ I sneer.

He snorts. ‘You won’t be making jokes once you belong to Joe. He takes that shit very seriously. I’ll bet he already gave you a little taste, huh?’