Abandoning the Rules (8 page)

CHAPTER thirteen

WALKING into the kitchen, Bree was supremely conscious of Steven’s bulk behind her and that he had her keys. There were spares, of course. But they were in his office and she couldn’t very well go digging for them now.

“Call the caterer. And order
some dinner while you’re at it. Chinese sounds good,” Steven ordered. “I’ll be in the den.”

Bree nodded and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to make the calls. Her fingers brushed Ben’s keys, emphasizing the precariousness of her situation. She had to find a place to hide them before Steven noticed.

But first she had to “pay” the caterer. She dialed her voicemail and pretended to give her credit card information to the female recording. There wasn’t a book club. Well, there was, she just didn’t belong. It had been an excuse she had used to get away.

Ordering Chi
nese took all of thirty seconds; they were frequent patrons and big tippers so the owners took great care to get their orders to them fast. After the call, Bree was left wondering how she was going to get through the rest of the night.

Steven was suspicious. Worse, he was up to something. She could feel it in her bones,
in the emotional and physical scars he had left behind, and in her stomach, taut with nerves. She realized that so many years spent living under his thumb had numbed her to the nightmare existence. No more though. She would do whatever it took to avoid the soul-sucking abuse he had perpetuated against her for too long.

Not wanting to be anywhere near Steven, she loitered in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning
to avoid the inevitable confrontation he was sure to start.

“Bree!” Steven shouted.

Damn. He wasn’t going to leave her alone.

She frantically looked around for a hiding place and spied the coffee jar on the counter. She grabbed a Ziploc bag from a drawer, slipped the watch and keys in, sealed it, and placed it in the coffee can, s
haking coffee over the top.

“Bree, damn
it! Didn’t you hear me?”

Footsteps
echoed on the tile hallway and she rushed to close the lid, hearing the distinct snap before turning around to greet Steven.

“Sorry, Steven, I was just getting off the phone,” she placated, hoping, praying he wouldn’t question her.

“How frigging long does it take to make a few phone calls? Christ, I’m on the phone all day and get more done in a two minute call than you do all day.”

Bree sta
yed silent. He was just beginning. The comparisons between how good he was, how virtuous and hard working he was while she sat at home doing nothing but spending his money and whoring around. It was a familiar tirade.

Next, he would start in on her appearance, saying she wasn’t doing enough to please him with her body, or her face, or her smart mouth. She’d heard it all before.
It made her long for Adam. Sweet, kind, and loving Adam was nothing like Steven and never would be.

“You just gonna stand there staring at me? Christ, you’re useless. Since you’re not doing anything important, think you could get off your ass long enough to make me a drink?”

Bree bit her tongue and nodded mutely.

He stared at her
before turning his back and walking out of the kitchen.

Bree made her way
to the bar and mixed his martini the way he liked it, dry with no olives.

It took a few seconds for her hands to stop shaking lo
ng enough to mix the drink. Then she thought of James Bond and suppressed a hysterical laugh. Shaken not stirred. Steven was definitely getting his martini shaken.

She knew the drill, make his drink and bring it to him in the den like he was the king. God, she was sickened thinking about how long she had put up with him.

To think of all the years she had wasted believing his lies…

Just a little bit longer and she could start to rebuild her life on her terms.

She placed his drink and the shaker with enough for another drink on the tray and went to face her fate.

~

Steven lounged on the colossal navy couch he had demanded they purchase. It wasn’t her preference, but he had insisted she couldn’t be trusted to know what good quality was if it had stood up and slapped her in the face. He should know. He was supposed to be from good quality people and he slapped her often.

She placed the tray on the coffee table, another one of his purchases
, and handed Steven his drink.

He grunted and took a healthy swallow.

She perched on the adjacent chair and pretended to ignore the mounting tension in the room.

“What did you order for dinner?” he barked, the alcohol only exacerbating his petulance.

“The usual. Pot stickers, Short ribs, and Orange Chicken.”

“Better hope they get here quick. I’ve had a long day. A man needs to eat and it would be
useful to have a wife who actually cooked a decent meal instead of relying on takeout.”

She didn’t reply, hoping he would take her silence for agreement.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Bree knew if she didn’t reply it would only piss him off more.

“No. I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Steven’s eyes bulged and he opened his mouth for what she assumed would be another put down when the doorbell rang.

Saved by the bell.

She went to the door and peeked through the window. T
.C., their usual deliveryman stood outside waiting.

Before she could open the door, Steven came up behind her.

“Are you going to get the door or do I have to do everything around here?” He reached around her and opened the door.

She attempted
to smile at T.C. but the funny look he gave her told her she wasn’t very successful. She signed the credit card slip, added a tip, and thanked him before reluctantly closing the door on what felt like her last chance at escape.

“Bring the food into the den, there’s a game on I don’t want to miss.”

Steven turned around and walked away, fully expecting her to follow.

She did, carrying the food in and placing it on the table.

“I’ll get plates, forks, and napkins,” she murmured, trying to walk sedately out of the room as if nothing was wrong.

Ste
ven didn’t acknowledge her, his eyes locked on the game blaring on the large screen T.V.

S
he made a quick detour to his office, grabbed her spare keys and tucked them into her bra before going to the kitchen for cutlery and plates.

Before entering the den, she smoothed
her hair and took a deep breath; don’t set him off her only mantra.

Careful to avoid obstructing his view, she placed a plate and silverware in front of him. Opening cartons, she served him healthy portions of his favorites. Who was she kidding? They were all his favorites. When had he ever cared if she hated Orange Chicken or not? Never and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

Somewhere along the way, she had completely lost sight of who she had been. The old Bree had ceased to exist and in its place was a shell of a woman. A woman who had sold her body and soul to the worst possible bidder.

She wondered if it was possible to find that woman again or if she was gone for good.

After serving him, she grabbed an eggroll and a pot sticker and put them on her plate. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he would notice if she didn’t at least pretend to eat.

Lifting his empty martini glass, he shook it at her like she was a dog awaiting a command from her master.

And like a dog long beaten by her master, she jumped and rose to do his bidding.

She poured him another drink and sat back down, picking at her food.

Steven wouldn’t bother her as long as the game was on. Heaven forbid he should miss a single play.

She sat through two
endless football quarters and served him two more drinks before Steven got up to use the restroom.

Sighing with relief, she cleare
d the dishes and took them to the kitchen to escape the oppressive atmosphere in the den. And so she could check on her hiding place. Having Steven roaming around without knowing what he was up to was unnerving.

After putting the dishes in th
e dishwasher, she straightened and casually glanced around for Steven. She breathed a little easier when she didn’t see him.

Lifting
the lid of the coffee jar, she spied her stash. She stuffed the items in her bra along with the keys. She was a little lumpy, but she didn’t think he’d notice.

“What are you doing?”

Bree stifled a scream and whipped around to see Steven leaning against the wall, his eyes glazed from the alcohol.

“I was going to get the cof
fee ready for tomorrow,” she stammered.

“When do you ever do anything beforehand?” he asked.

Bree held her anger in check. If he only knew what she could do.

“I thought it would be nice if the coffee was already brewed when you got up in the morning, since I haven’t been around to see to your meals.”

Steven didn’t answer and she turned around to get the coffee ready lest he think she was lying.

“Want to tell me what this is?”

Her spine stiffened and she knew without looking he had discovered her secret
.

CHAPTER fourteen

PIVOTING slowly, she lifted her eyes to see her purse negligently held in one hand, the bank bonds in the other.

Oh God. How could she explain why she had them?

She tried, opening her mouth to spit out another lie then stopped. Why bother? She couldn’t explain it. Hell, she couldn’t even defend herself when she was innocent. So she said nothing, choosing to wait him out. She had nothing else to lose.

“You must think I’m real
ly stupid if you think I’m not going to notice my safe has been opened. Cleaned out, too by the looks of it.”

He rattled the sheaf of papers in his hand and for a moment, she hoped that’s all he thought she had stolen from him.

He stalked closer, the lines around his mouth tightening. He kept coming until her back was pressed against the counter and any hope she had went flying out the window.

“Lying ungrateful bitch. I’ve given you everything and you were just going to leave and steal from me while you were at it. What about Beth and Josh, hmm? Were you going to leave them behind or bring them along for the ride?”

Bree looked away from the crazed hatred in his eyes, unable to answer even if she wanted to. It was clear Steven was beyond criminal; he was insane, full of righteous anger and bent on destroying her. Why had she stayed so damn long? Why hadn’t she seen it in his actions towards her? Towards others?

The endless questions hurt her head and w
ere pointless to boot. The reason why didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of the house before he hit her again. The abuse would end tonight, even if it was the last thing she did.

She raised her head and glared at him with all the repressed anger and hatred she had hoarded and nurtured in her heart for twenty-two long years.

Fury blazed back at her, reflected in the narrowed slits his eyes had become.

“What are you going to do now? Can’t leave without money and I’ll make damn sure Beth and Josh won’t be going anywhere with their
Mommy
,” he spat.

Bree snapped. There was no other word for the rising tide of rage bubbling up from her stomach, traveling through her heart
, and exploding out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“How fucking dare you use our children as a weapon in this war you have waged on me for the duration of our entire marriage!” she shrieked, moving forward until she was inches from his face, fear replaced by something else, something far stronger, that of a mother finally stepping up to protect her children. “I have spent my life serving you, and to what end? So I could be slapped, beaten, and hospitalized by your hand. The man who promised to love, honor, an
d cherish me. Yeah, fucking right! You honor me with your hands bruising my skin, you cherish with words designed to cut me to the core, and you love me by using my children as a weapon. Fuck off, Steven, I know what you did.”

Bree shoved him and whirled away, running for the garage and her life, knowing she had gone too far. She had to get to the car.

She reached the door before he caught her by the arm, twisting her around in one smooth practiced move before slamming her against the nearest wall.

Her head snapped back, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

“Stupid cunt. You don’t know anything.”

Dazed, Bree smiled at him.

“How do you know?”

He stilled, the bands of steel his fingers had formed on her arms slac
kening for just a brief second. One second was all she needed.

Ducking down, Bree broke his hold on her and ran.

Surprise kept him from coming after her long enough for her to twist the doorknob and scramble into the garage, slamming the door behind her.

It wouldn’t protect her for long and sure enough, just as she reached the car, the
garage door flew open and hit the wall with a loud bang.

She didn’t waste any time, jumping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door closed behind her. Her fingers frantically searched for the automatic lock, not relaxing until she heard the distinctive click signifying she was safe.

Steven attempted to open the door and screamed in outrage when he realized what she had done, pounding on the windows and demanding she open the door.

She had only dared to defy him once before, but once
had been enough to teach her not to do it again. Now, she simply stared at the man she had married, no longer hampered by the fear of a beating or words designed to wound.

He continued to rant, yelling obscenities and cursing her name.

With the last ounce of will she possessed, she slid the key into the ignition with an outward calm she didn’t feel, and started the car.

Steven went nuts. It was the only definition for the wild-eyed, s
creaming lunatic beating on the doors and windows with his bare hands.

Bree reached for the garage door opener and pushed the button, waiting for what seemed like forever for the slow
moving garage door to open.

Steven ran to the garden tools neatly arrayed on the wall, selected a shovel
, and ran towards her, weapon poised to strike.

But it was too late, reversing at mach speed, she backed out of the garage and kept going, not bothering to turn around unti
l she was far enough away.

The flashing lights of a police car stopped her backwards flight.

Oh thank God!

She braked and waited for the officer to approach her car, not willing to risk getting out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steven running down the street with the shovel still in his hand.

Hurry, she urged
, willing the police officer to look up.

Seconds later, the
officer was at her door shouting at her to stay there. As if she was going to get out.

He ran towards Steven,
weapon raised, and ordered him to put the shovel down. Unsurprisingly, Steven, always a coward when faced with someone of his own size or bigger, put the shovel down immediately.

Bree released the breath she had been holding. It was too soon for it to be over, but for the moment, she was safe.

There was a knock at the opposite window and she looked up, surprised to see Adam.

What was he doing here?