Page 81 of Stand: Part One

My only weapon was that of a bad attitude. So that was what Darren would get.

Breakfast passed by in an uncomfortable silence as we both ate quietly, but a reprieve came when Darren received a phone call that he had to step away to take. I’d finished my plate quickly before he came back, so I was able to quietly slip away.

I retreated back to my den, finding Camaro snuggled in her bed. Her head popped up as I closed the door behind me, a big yawn stretching her snout as she made her way to me. I decided to spend the rest of my morning pretending to watch movies while I stretched and sulked on the floor.

I couldn’t believe he had the gall to call my enforced captivity “lounging around the house” as if my bullshit marriage to him allowed me to do literally anything else! And the fact that he called it “lounging” at all was insulting, considering how hard I had been working at my rehabilitation over the past couple of months.

What a fucking dick.

Just a few days earlier, I had been soaking up his praise like a destitute junkie, feeling so damn good about myself. Sometimes Darren could make me feel like I was on top of the fucking world.

And then there were days, like today, where he could make me feel like a foolish child. I hated how much power he had over my emotions when it came to my own self-worth. Apparently, all it took nowadays was just a few hard spankings and a single insult from him to annihilate it.

When did I become this weak and pathetic?

God, I was so desperate for a single drop of dopamine I was willing to act like a goddamn fool to get it. Fucking pitiful.

For the rest of the week, I avoided Darren like the plague, not wanting to cross paths with him and my unending petulance. I didn’t need a repeat of that encounter. So when Clive informed me we were going out to dinner and that I had one hour to get ready, I was a little more than shocked. I was irritated.

As much as I always enjoyed finally getting out of the house, the thought of spending an evening with Darren in public was already exhausting, considering how much harder I had to work to “behave” around him. But what fucking choice did I have?

So I showered, did my hair and makeup extra special, and when I was ready to get dressed, I found a white cocktail dress with diagonal sequined rose gold stripes laid out on the bed. Matching white platform heels sat on the floor.

Though white wasn’t exactly my color, it was a very pretty ensemble. After pairing it with some jewelry Darren had gotten me for Christmas, I was ready to go.

Or so I thought.

After six months of not wearing heels, my ankles were suddenly feeling less than enthusiastic about performing on stilts. Each step I took toward the door made me feel like a fucking baby deer walking for the first time. I’d never had to put so much focus into walking in heels before, and it actually sucked.

When Clive and Owen escorted me from the bedroom to meet Darren downstairs, I found myself holding my breath as I walked down the curved stairway. I was going slower than normal and gripping the banister a little harder than necessary. Thankfully, that wasn’t where Darren’s focus was trained as I carefully descended each step.

My nerves instantly erupted when I caught his heated gaze, my mouth going dry. That hard look of deep focus and scrutiny slowly worked its way up and down my wobbly body, gradually increasing my heart rate. But by the time his eyes returned to mine, lust and prideful possessiveness had replaced his assessment—the golden seal of approval.

I couldn’t help but replicate the gesture, finding myself appreciating how well his body filled out the tailored midnight black suit he wore. The man was male perfection from top to bottom, and I fucking hated him for it. It was criminal that anyone could be that ugly on the inside yet could still be so goddamn handsome on the outside.

When I made it to the last step, Darren held his large hand out for me to take, a deceptively warm smile on his face.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked as I placed my hand in his.

Anxiety spiked in my stomach at his question, my eyes searching through his for some kind of answer. When I came up with nothing, I waved my white flag. I didn’t even know what day of the week it was, let alone a damn potential special occasion.

“Thursday?” I replied tentatively.

A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he pulled me down from the last step.

“Today is our first wedding anniversary.”

I felt my face drop at the answer. It had already been an entire year since the wedding? I’d been married to this asshole for a whole-ass year? Somehow it felt like an eternity.

“Well, I hope my anniversary gift is a calendar because I actually have no idea if today is Thursday or not.”

Darren’s smirk curved until it met his eyes. “Its actually Tuesday.”

“Of course it is, silly me.” Ignoring my sarcasm, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. I frowned immediately. “That box doesn’t look like it fits a calendar. Unless it’s a pocket calendar?”

“You don’t need a damn calendar,” he replied. “Besides, as much as this is going to kill me, you’ll prefer this over anything else.”

He then handed me the box, his smirk disappearing entirely only to be replaced with something more cautious and almost irate. Ignoring his odd change in demeanor, I lifted the lid to find a bright red key fob, the word Ferrari etched down the middle.