Life With The Men I Love: Lies, Love and Pain

Chapter 1

I lay sprawled on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, drowning in the haunting lyrics of "Please Return My Call" as Trey's voice echoed through the room. It had been on repeat for over an hour, filling the empty silence with words that felt so painfully close to my own unspoken thoughts. My phone lit up every few minutes with his name flashing on the screen, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. Not yet. My ribs still ached, bruises blossoming beneath the skin from our last encounter—reminders of just how complicated things had become with Grey Salvatore, my husband.

Three days. Three days without seeing him, without answering his calls. But the clock was ticking, and I knew eventually I'd have to face him.

My mind drifted back to the beginning, to the night I met Grey four years ago. It was a gala, filled with the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of polite conversation. Grey had stepped on stage to speak, his towering figure captivating, even from a distance. I couldn't tell you what he said that night because I was too mesmerized by his presence—the six-foot frame, stormy grey eyes that seemed to see right through you, dark hair, the power radiating from him in his perfectly tailored Armani suit. He approached me afterward, his charm utterly magnetic, and we hit it off instantly. He pursued me with a determination that was intoxicating, and eventually, he got what he wanted.

At first, he was everything I'd dreamed of—gentle, devoted, and loving. He even proposed to me in front of millions during the Super Bowl halftime show, a moment that felt like a fairytale. But somewhere along the way, that man changed. He grew possessive, then obsessive. Over time, he became someone I hardly recognized—quick to anger, and more recently, he'd started to hurt me. I kept holding on, hoping to see a glimpse of the man who swept me off my feet, the man I married in Italy. But maybe that man was gone.

Turning off the music, I threw on a jacket and headed out, the chill of the evening air clearing my head a little as I drove toward a place that always made me feel safe.

"Hey, Indi!" Jamie greeted me with a warm hug as I stepped out of the car.

"Hey, boo," I replied, trying to shake off the lingering memories. "Where were you earlier?"

"Had a quick stop at the salon," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You work too damn hard," I teased, though she was right; I had no room to talk.

"Look who's talking, Miss Superstar!" She laughed, nudging me.

Ignoring her jab, I asked, "Where's my little angel?"

"Out back with Cole and Brianna."

I made my way outside and immediately spotted my daughter, her face lighting up as soon as she saw me. "Mommy!" Adrianna's voice rang out as she bolted toward me.

"Hey, pumpkin!" I scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of laughter, and for a few precious hours, I felt like myself again. But as the evening drew closer, reality weighed heavily on my mind. It was time to go home, back to Grey, back to the life I'd left behind for a few stolen days.

As soon as we entered the house, Adrianna ran forward, spotting Grey immediately. "Daddy!" she squealed, and he bent down, catching her in his arms, his face softening as he held her close.

"I missed you," he murmured, brushing a kiss on her forehead.

"Not as much as I missed you!" she replied, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

Grey's eyes found mine over her shoulder, a dark glint hidden behind his composed expression. He lowered Adrianna to the floor and whispered, "Can you go upstairs for a minute, princess? I have a few surprises waiting for you in your room." She beamed with excitement, bounding up the stairs. Just before she disappeared, she turned back. "Mommy, you coming?"

"In a minute, baby." I managed a smile as she vanished from sight. My heart sank as Grey's gaze hardened, locking onto mine the moment we were alone.

He watched me intently, his hands shoved in his pockets as he took a slow step forward. I tried to walk past him, but he reached out, gripping my arm. "Where have you been, India?"

I swallowed, unable to meet his stare. "I...I was in New York."

"Did I say you could go to New York?" His voice was sharp, every word slicing through me. "Do you know how ridiculous I looked last night, showing up to that event without my wife by my side? Answer me!"

"I'm sorry." My voice cracked under the weight of his anger, and he tightened his hold, his fingers digging into my skin.

"This is nothing," he hissed. "Nothing compared to what I can do, sweetheart." I held my breath, fighting against the fear swelling inside me. Then, suddenly, his grip loosened, and he pulled me to his chest, pressing a kiss to my forehead, the gesture soft and tender in contrast to the roughness of just moments ago.

He lifted my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. "I love you," he whispered, the intensity in his gaze breaking through my defenses. "Remember that." His arms wrapped around me, and despite everything, I felt a tear slide down my cheek, resting my head against his chest.

The man I fell in love with, the man I married, was still there, somewhere beneath the anger and the darkness. And that was why I kept holding on, hoping, just maybe, he'd come back.