Annelly

I draw in a shaky breath, determined to get through this. “The first few times we went out, it was amazing. He was good to me. Doting, even. He took me on lavish dates—five-star restaurants, private galleries, things I never dreamed I’d get to experience. He showered me with gifts and compliments that made me feel… cherished. Wanted. Like I was the only woman in the world. It felt good. Real. Like we were building something that could last.”

I pause, my voice faltering as I recall the turning point. “It’s why I asked him to be my date for Emilia and Lucas’s wedding. At the time, it felt like the next logical step for us. We seemed… solid. But after that…” I shake my head, the words catching in my throat. “After that, everything changed.”

James leans forward, his gaze sharp and focused. “What do you mean?”

“Until the wedding, it had always been just me and him. I had friends, sure, but we were all so wrapped up in school and our own productions that there was never any time to hang out. Victor always had my full, undivided attention. But bringing him here to Ruby Creek changed that. Suddenly, my attention was split—between my family, my old friends, and him. And he just… he didn’t like that.”

I pause, the memory of his subtle shifts in demeanor tightening my chest. “He never said it outright, but I swear he felt threatened. By you and Tyler. Ben, Lucas, and the guys in OTS. Seeing me interact with all of you—witnessing how natural it was—made him question what we had. It was like he thought the way I was with him—open, happy, affectionate—was exclusive to him. Seeing me like that with others hurt him. Things were never the same after that.”

I pause to take a breath, twisting the cap off my water bottle and taking a sip to soothe the dryness in my throat. The awkward drive back to New York after the wedding surfaces in my mind—the tension in the air was so thick I could barely breathe. It was the first time in our relationship that he iced me out and made me feel small. Inadequate. Things only got worse from there.

“A week after the wedding, he made it clear that I… owed him. Since he’d come to meet my family, he asked that I attend a dinner he was hosting for some of his clients at one of his clubs. I had a performance scheduled that night, so I told him I’d be late. He assured me it would be fine, that I’d only need to show up in time for dessert. Things between us had been tense ever since the wedding. He was short with me, picking fights over the smallest things, and I thought going to this dinner might help smooth things over.”

I glance down at the bottle in my hands, twisting it nervously. “I thought it’d be okay… it was just a business dinner, right? I assumed that meant he’d be on his best behavior.” I laugh bitterly. “I was wrong. So, so wrong.”

As memories from that night surface, the fear and shame hit me hard. My hands tremble slightly as I grip the bottle tighter. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Not as I prepare to tell him this next part.  

“His driver picked me up that night after my performance. When we arrived, I was escorted to a private VIP area where Victor was waiting with his friends and clients. The club wasn’t at all what I expected, and almost immediately, I knew something wasn’t right. But after all the conflict we’d had that week, I thought it would be best if I just kept my promise and stayed to support him through his business meeting. When he saw me, he seemed so pleased—almost surprised and relieved that I’d actually come. He knew getting all glammed up to go to a club wasn’t my thing. Then, with this proud smile on his face, he introduced me to everyone there.”

Subconsciously, my shoulders droop, my body curling in on itself as the memory takes hold. The dress Victor had sent for me to wear that night was more revealing than anything I’d ever worn before, and my throat tightens as the image resurfaces in my mind. It clung to me in a way that made me feel exposed. I remember stepping into the club, my skin prickling with unease as I noticed the other women there. Scantily clad girls dressed much like me, many of them younger, draped over older men who barely acknowledged them beyond the way their hands lingered on their bodies. 

This isn’t right, I’d thought to myself. Even now, I can’t explain why I didn’t leave. Maybe I didn’t want to make a scene. Maybe I just didn’t want to disappoint him. But the way those men—the ones Victor called friends and associates—looked at me like I was a piece of meat, sent a sick feeling to the pit of my stomach. Their gazes didn’t just linger; they pierced through me, violating and stripping me bare. And Victor… he didn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was the point. 

“I told myself to ignore it.” I voice the thought without realizing it. And though James must be confused and unsure of what I’m talking about, he doesn’t interrupt. “That I was overthinking things. Victor was happy I came. He’d made such a big deal about this event. I thought maybe… maybe I was just imagining the way they all looked at me.”

James’s hand tightens into a fist on the table, his knuckles blanching white. He doesn’t say a word, but his jaw ticks with tension, the tendons in his neck straining as though he’s holding himself back. 

I pause, swallowing hard as shame washes over me. “But as the night went on, I became more uncomfortable. The things happening around me—the way those men talked about the women there, the liberties they took touching them… doing inappropriate things to them. In public. Out in the open.” My voice wavers, cracking under the weight of the memory. “It made my skin crawl. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t want to upset Victor.” 

James lets out a sharp breath, and I can feel his fury radiating across the table. His leg bounces under it, restless energy spilling out in barely contained tremors. I glance up briefly, catching the dark fire blazing in his eyes, and then quickly look away. 

“And then Victor…” My voice catches, my throat constricting as the memories from the worst night of my life rise to the surface. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears back as I force out the words. “While we were seated at the table, surrounded by his colleagues, he reached under my dress.” 

James freezes. His fists clench tighter, and his breathing grows heavier. For a second, he looks like he might stand, like he’s seconds away from snapping. But he doesn’t. He stays seated, his hands twitching around the edge of the table like he’s fighting with himself not to flip it across the room.

I shake my head, trying to clear the humiliation that clings to me even now. “I didn’t want him touching me, so I pushed his hand away.”

James mutters something low under his breath, too quiet for me to make out, but the tension in his voice makes my stomach clench. He’s barely holding it together.

My voice trembles, but I press on. “The next thing I knew, he grabbed me by the back of my hair. He yanked me hard, forcing me to my feet, and shoved my upper body down onto the table. Right there, in front of everyone.” My breath hitches, and a sob escapes unbidden as I relive that helpless, horrifying moment. “I tried to fight. I was struggling so hard to get free, and then I heard him—” My voice breaks completely, the memory slamming into me with full force. 

James shoots out of his chair, pacing a short distance before bracing his hands on the counter. His shoulders rise and fall with each jagged breath, the fury burning inside him terrifying even to me. But he doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he stands there, gripping the marble counter so hard I half expect it to splinter under his palms. 

I tighten my fingers around the water bottle, my hands trembling as shame and terror flood me anew. My throat constricts, and the room feels impossibly small, suffocating under the weight of the memory.  

“Tell me,” James growls, his voice low, gravelly, and barely controlled. “What did he do?”

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