The Dangerous Past

ANGELA

I took a deep breath before opening my eyes, instantly knowing that Xavier hadn’t come to me last night.

I stretched my arm to his side of the bed; I was right—the sheets were untouched and there was no other sign of him having been here.

I sat up, feeling fear in the pit of my stomach. I had had a hard time falling asleep because of worries over Xavier’s mysterious friend, but when my husband didn’t come back, those worries turned into fears for his safety.

I checked my phone, which was resting on the nightstand, but there was no message from him. It wasn’t so unusual of him to forget about time when he was with his buddies, buried in cards, alcohol, and money; yet I was restless.

I dialed the number of the head of our security team only to find out that they had been in the hotel the whole night because my husband had sent them home.

They didn’t have an idea where he was, but two bodyguards went to check the spot where he was seen last night.

While waiting for the news, I took a shower, trying at least for a minute to stop thinking about all the horrible things that might have happened to my beloved man.

I trusted him. Despite the bad start to our relationship, I forgave him for everything, and I was his happy wife, so I was not being bothered with thoughts about him being with another woman right now.

However, he was an adrenaline junkie, and when he was surrounded by crazy people, he became the craziest.

I did my best not to imagine him smashed in his luxurious sport car or motorcycle because he was speeding down a road he didn’t know. I pushed back the pictures in my mind of him falling from a cliff.

I wouldn’t survive if something like this happened to him. I would rather have him be unfaithful to me than lose him completely.

With a heavy sigh, I sat in the armchair, staring at the steaming mug of coffee and the delicious-looking croissants. But I couldn’t make myself eat while I waited for news about my missing husband.

I stirred the coffee with a small spoon, doing my best not to panic. It wasn’t the first time he disappeared. I should have been used to that, but I wasn’t.

I was always worried sick when he didn’t come home, and this time, it was only intensified by the meeting with Aston.

We were in a foreign country, and Xavier had maybe spent some time here; but times change and people change as well. What if Aston wasn’t his friend anymore?

What if my hot-tempered husband got into a fight with him and he was in the hospital? Or worse?

Tears fell from my eyes, and I stood up abruptly, being unable to sit still. I was anxious to find out what had happened. Of course, I was probably panicking without obvious reason; yet I couldn’t be at ease while I didn’t know where Xavier was.

“Mrs. Knight.”

I winced when the voice of one of the bodyguards jolted me from my thoughts. I didn’t know he had a key to our room.

“Yes?” I turned to face him, expecting him to tell me that my husband was drunk in some bar and didn’t want to leave. That would be the best possible answer.

“Mr. Knight left the casino at one a.m., and we don’t know where he went,” the security guy answered, his gaze drifting to the floor when I raised my eyebrows at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know where he went?” My voice wavered, and I had to grab the back of the chair for support because I felt weak at my knees.

The heaviness of the truth was crushing me. I was right. Something bad had happened to my beloved.

“He left in the company of two men, and their whereabouts are unknown, madam.”

“Did he lose money? Or was he drunk?” I asked, trying to get to the bottom of this. Xavier wouldn’t have just left the game he loved so much. If he had someone to play with, he would have stayed there.

“According to one of the waitresses, he didn’t feel well,” the bodyguard replied, shrugging. “We have men in the city. We’ll find him, madam. Just be patient.”

Patience was never my strongest trait, but here, I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t have a clue where my husband was or with whom he had spent the last few hours.

My heart painfully clenched in my chest, yet I quickly reminded myself that he had left with two men. There was no other woman in the picture.

Nervously tapping my fingers against the surface of the glass table, I decided to have a drink. I wasn’t fond of alcohol, but in a situation like this, I needed something to soothe my tensed nerves.

Being Xavier’s wife was a challenge from the beginning, yet I secretly hoped that as he grew older, he would develop some sense of responsibility.

However, many times, he had acted like a wealthy, overgrown child, and I was left with nothing but worries for him.

Two hours. I spent two hours imprisoned in the hotel room in the company of dread and distress as I waited. I wanted to scratch the walls with my nails just to feel something else.

Horrible scenarios were gnawing at me and overcoming my common sense. I was really starting to panic.

The only consolation was that there was no information about him being involved in some kind of fight or accident. But when the security guy recommended checking the morgue and informing the police, I almost fainted.

The idea was frightening but very real. It could have happened that someone kidnapped my husband, and it was just a matter of time before they would call and ask for money.

Just when I was about to agree with police involvement in this case, Xavier entered the room like everything was absolutely fine.

His hair was disheveled, and he looked tired with dark circles under his eyes, but he was giving off his usual charming vibes. Nothing hinted at anything untoward.

“What is going on?” he asked casually, taking off his jacket.

I stood up, glaring at him and placing my hands on my hips. I was ecstatic that he came back without a scratch, yet I was also furious for what he had put me through.

I didn’t deserve this, and for sure, I was about to give him a piece of my mind.

“What do you think is going on?” I snapped, fuming. He raised his eyebrows, his gaze shifting between me and two of our bodyguards.

They instantly understood they weren’t needed anymore and quickly left the room.

“Angela, I really have no idea why you are acting like this.” He flashed me one of his signature puppy looks, which normally immediately melted my heart. This time, it didn’t work.

“You have no idea!” I yelled, throwing my arms in the air. “You would probably have an idea if you just started to think about me and not only about yourself and your idiotic friends!”

“Angie, please, you’re overreacting.” He tried to calm me down, but I was far away from the line.

“Don’t Angie me!” I was staring daggers at him. My anxiety had turned into fury and I was moments away from telling him something I might regret. “Where the hell have you spent the night?”

“I was with Aston,” he replied instantly, slowly coming closer. “I lost a big game and had a few strong drinks. I needed to get out of there.”

“And what about returning here?” I inquired accusingly, ignoring the tremor in my body. “Or you could at least make a call. Am I not worth a simple message?”

“Darling, you’re worth everything. Why are you talking like this?”

He stopped in front of me, cupping my face with his huge palms. I wrinkled my nose because he smelled like garbage, and the tiredness on his face was even more noticeable when we were two inches apart.

“I wanted to call the police,” I admitted, stepping away from him. “I almost lost my mind because I thought someone kidnapped you.”

“Kidnapped me?” He chuckled, hiding his hands in his pants pockets. “Who would want to kidnap me, darling?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, feeling stupid. He just had fun with his old friend, and I was overreacting like a lunatic. “I was scared.”

“I know, I know.” He came to me again and wrapped his arms around me. The peculiar smell was even stronger than before. It was stinging my nose. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Fine,” I whispered, my anger slowly dissipating, but the questions about his whereabouts stayed. “Why are you smelling like a garbage can?”

He gently kissed my forehead and moved away, sighing heavily.

“Are you sure you want to hear it?” He asked, putting more distance between us. I nodded, waiting for him to explain the terrible stench.

“When we left the club, Aston suggested another place to get drunk,” he began, sitting on the couch. “We already had enough, but we were too drunk to notice.” He grimaced, taking a quick look at my emptied glass on the table.

“We got into a fight with some Italian macho men, and they kicked our asses.” He narrowed his eyes at me when I tried to suppress a laugh and failed miserably.

“Yes, sweetheart, I was thrown into a garbage can,” he finished his story with an annoyed expression, standing up. “I’m going to take a shower. Join me after you stop laughing.”

I plopped down on the sofa, leaning back and grinning at the ceiling. It was exactly like my husband’s—to walk into a club and think he owned the place because of his great looks and famous name.

However, we were in Europe. People didn’t know him as well as in New York, and he only paid the price for his egomaniacal behavior.

Ignoring the doubts and the uneasy feeling in my stomach, I took off my shoes and entered the bathroom. A big silhouette of my husband was visible through the steamy glass of the shower door.

Leisurely, I undressed myself, watching my expression in the mirror.

Concern was still written all over my face. Mostly because, for some unknown reason, I didn’t believe the story my husband had told me.

He smelled terribly, but he wasn’t dirty. If he’d ended up in the trash can, he would have had stains on his clothes.

Also, if he’d drunk so much alcohol, he would have still been asleep somewhere on the other side of town. And for sure, our bodyguards would have located him.

A waitress from the club where he was playing poker told the security guards he wasn’t feeling well and that two men were accompanying him. But he was talking only about Aston. Too many things didn’t match up.

I was confused—why would he lie to me if he was simply with his friends in some bar, drinking?

“Will you join me, sweetheart?” Xavier disturbed my musing, and I abruptly turned to him, startled. I was probably looking like a deer in the headlights, but I was never a good actor. All of my emotions were easily readable on my face.

“C’mon.” He stretched his arm in my direction, smiling softly. “I’m smelling much better now, I promise.”

Carefully, because I didn’t want to slip on the wet floor, I walked to him, taking his hand. It was warm and welcoming, exactly as I remembered it, but I just couldn’t be at ease.

Xavier caged me in his embrace the moment I entered the shower, and he started kissing my neck. My hands traveled up his back, and I buried my fingers in his hair, but my mind wasn’t concentrated on him.

I was overthinking every possibility, recalling everything he said.

He moved from my neck to my mouth, claiming it with the same passion as always, and for a second, I believed he was my loving husband. But then the image of him with Aston appeared at the edge of my consciousness, and I dug my nails into his biceps.

He took it as a sign I was enjoying his palms on my ass and his lips on my breasts, while I was trying to chase away the memory of him being unfaithful to me at the beginning of our marriage.

I almost didn’t notice that he had lifted me up and pressed me against the cold wall. Only when he entered did a surprised squeak leave my mouth.

“I love the noises you’re making when I’m fucking you, sweetheart,” he whispered into my ear, pounding into me.

Holding his shoulders, I tried to forget about everything and lose myself in great sex, but I couldn’t do it. The last half hour was on repeat inside my head, and no amount of kissing and fucking could get me out of that loop.

This time, I didn’t reach orgasm. He spread his seed inside me, groaning into my hair, but everything he got from me was fake moaning.

I didn’t want him to know I was totally out of myself, and thankfully, my performance was good enough to fool him.

I hated myself for lying to him like this, but I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. It was the quickest way to get away from him and have a moment to myself.

Every time, after a long night and morning sex, he would fall asleep; today was no different. Ten minutes after he walked out of the shower, he was dreaming. I could finally start thinking and maybe, digging up where my husband had spent the night.

And most importantly, with whom?