Areston thinks he can shield me from his past, but what he doesn't realize is I'm already part of it.
The darkness that haunts him? It's the same one that's been chasing me for years.
I've given him everything-my body, my heart, my soul-and still...
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"I... I am leaving." My voice trembles as I force the words out, my legs weak beneath me.
Even though I am standing in an open garden, I feel invisible walls closing in around me, rendering me incapable of breathing. I need to get out, need to be away from here, need to be in my husband's embrace before I succumb to some kind of an anxiety or panic attack. I reach for my sling bag, but my hands are trembling so badly that I nearly drop it. My chest aches from holding back the urge to cry loudly, but I can't cry anymore. Not here. Not in front of her even though my treacherous tears fail to stop.
"No, you aren't." Her silent command is like a blade cutting through all the hazy voices in my head. It's a tone I've known my entire existence—the voice that commands, controls, and suffocates. The voice that has always kept me on leash. But that won't be happening today.
"I am." I manage standing a little straighter, daring to match her unflinching, soulless gaze, even as my legs feel like giving up. "I need Areston."
"You're not going anywhere in this state. I won't allow it. You need to stay here until you feel fine." Her voice cracks with fury—the worst kind of fury—for the first time. It's not the calculated, measured disapproval she's the master of always wielding with precision and scaring even the mightiest of men without a frown on her face.
"Have you been listening to my outburst at all, mama? I don't feel fine anywhere here... anywhere near you. I don't want to stay here." I end up yelling, louder than I mean to, but the words tumble out before I can stop them. She flinches, just slightly, but it's enough for me to notice. I've never seen her flinch before—that's not her. Not once. Not ever. "You don't get to tell me what I need. God knows I've had enough of that. Besides, I wasn't asking for your permission. You can be happy that I am not wasting your precious time which you can invest on rather important work related matters. This... our lunch is a forced event anyway. You don't want me slipping off your fingers like Chase did. Don't call Areston," I continue, my voice lower now but equally determined. "Don't text him. Don't call him. I'll talk to him when I see him."
She looks like she wants to coax me with her emotional blackmailing to stay, but she decides against it. Not that would've given in anyway. Not in the state I'm in.
"Peter will take you. He'll take care of you." He has been her trusted chauffeur since she was in her 20s. Her tone appears dejected but I'll think about it later.
"I have Oliver. He'll take care of me. He always has." I have no idea where I get the miraculous strength to run and escape.
"Ms. Rothschild... Juliette?" Oliver panics for the first time in front of me as he watches my disheveled state.
"Take me to Areston." I jump in the passenger seat next to him instead of the back seat of which the door he's holding open for me.
