Love Required (2 page)

A moment later he finally answered, “Yes, I believe I would like you to prepare a snack for me. Since I have to wait.”

He took a step back, allowing her to quickly retrieve what she would need. Placing the tomato and cheese on the cutting board, she cringed at having to take out a knife. Silently cursing herself, she resolved to the fact she had no choice. So she pulled it out and began to slice the cheese. After decoratively dressing the plate with it, she went to cut the tomato before realizing it hadn’t been cleaned yet. She promptly washed it and returned to the cutting board—all the while knowing Damien stood somewhere behind her, watching.

Standing in front of the cutting board, she looked around but didn’t see the knife. A quick glance to the sink told her she hadn’t set it down over there. It was when she felt Damien press up against her that she caught sight of the knife. His body was firm against hers, and his hands boxed her in. His left hand rested along the edge of the counter on her one side, while his right hand had a firm grip around the handle of the knife.

Keeping her eye on his right hand, she fought the cauldron of fear that began bubbling over inside of her. Choosing her words carefully, she asked, “Damien? Have you changed your mind about a snack?”

He didn’t answer her. Silence filled the room as her heart rate jumped from an accelerate rate to an outright gallop. The pounding of it made her ears buzz. The palms of her hands gathered moisture against the marble surface of the counter as he made her wait for his response. Knowing she couldn’t do or say anything else at that moment, she focused on her breathing because the last thing she needed was to pass out from lack of oxygen.

After what seemed like hours, even though it was probably mere seconds, he finally spoke. Against the skin of her neck, she could feel his breath. “How are you feeling today, Victoria?”

Wondering why he would ask her that, and concerned that she wasn’t sure how to answer it without causing a problem, she said, “Fine, thank you very much for asking.”
Her practiced response
.

Damien waited a few moments before saying, “Don’t you think it would be proper to ask me how
I’m
feeling today?”

Shit
! “I’m sorry. I assumed you were well since I asked you if everything was okay,” she said in a low, shaky voice. It was almost impossible to hide the fear and panic that were warring for top spot of emotions. She had no idea where Damien was going with the conversation, but experience told her it wasn’t good.

“Oh, you assumed …” he said, his voice moving a huge step away from calm and into the threatening category.

Realizing she still hadn’t asked him how he was feeling, since that was apparently what he wanted, she rushed to say, “How are you feeling today, Damien?”

“I’m glad you asked, Victoria. I’m actually not feeling very well today.” There was a pause as he lifted his left hand away from the countertop. Stiffening, she felt it once again run down the length of her hair before he continued, “It’s a good thing I ran into Dr. Riley today.”

At the mention of their general practitioner’s name, she held her breath. Knowing that patient confidentiality was a law, she hoped the nice old man wouldn’t have said anything to Damien about her referral to the obstetrician. Victoria also figured the doc probably assumed her husband knew about her pregnancy—since that would be the norm. She began to prepare herself for what he could say next, all the while knowing she might have just run out of time.

She knew she needed to continue the conversation he was forcing on her, so she said, “It’s a good thing you ran into him if you weren’t feeling well. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Hoping that directing her attention toward “taking care of his needs” would take the focus off her. She only had to wait a few seconds before she felt his hand begin to twist her hair, wrapping it around his fist, and yanking her head back. Hard.

Letting out a startled gasp, she tried desperately to clutch the countertop, giving herself an anchor. His lips were right against her ear as he whispered in a menacing tone, “Yes, there is something you can do for me, Victoria. How about you tell me why Dr. Riley would be congratulating me?”

She could almost hear the nails being hammered into her coffin with his words. A simple congratulation from a nice old man had promptly placed her life and the life of her unborn child in jeopardy. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t be met with the same reaction from him, so she remained quiet. Thoughts of what she could do to protect her baby clouded her brain. She knew she was going to have to run, but she’d hoped there would be more time to make a plan. As it was, she was trapped between the counter and an angry Damien, who had one hand wrapped around the long length of her hair and the other clutching a knife.

He was stronger than her—she knew this well. Her lack of strength was used to his advantage most of the time, which was why she tried to play his mind games. It allowed her to come out the winner on the other side, sometimes. She feared this time was going to be different.

Damien yanked hard on her hair again, directing her face toward him in the process. The surprise of the move pulled her from her thoughts, as she felt her hands spread apart on the counter. This told her Damien’s knife clutching hand was no longer on the counter.

She could feel his face in hers now. “Open your eyes, Victoria,” he demanded.

She had no choice, so she did. The rage she could see brewing in her husband’s eyes confirmed it—he knew there was a child growing inside her, and his hatred was evident. “Did you think I wasn’t going to notice?” he spit out.

Tightening his grip in her hair, he continued, “Did you think I wouldn’t see your body changing? It’s
my
body, Victoria! I know every inch of it, and I will not allow you to alter it into something disgusting and stretched out!”

As shocking as his words were, she’d heard them before. After they were married, he made sure she knew they would never have children—she would never be a mother. It was the first of many devastating blows he delivered in the early days of their marriage. But she could handle the shock of his words more than she could handle the feeling of his right hand, and knife, applying pressure on her abdomen.

Damien held the thick, flat part of the blade against her. There was two layers of fabric between it and her skin, but she could almost feel the metal, like a brand burning her. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over at the thought of what might happen next. He was forcing her gaze on him so she was unable to hide the reaction from him. An evil smile spread across his face as he watched her tears fall, but he didn’t say anything, only applied more pressure with the blade.

Victoria tried to get a grip on her thoughts as they spun like a tornado ripping through her head. She wasn’t going to just let him harm her child, so she just needed to figure out how to get away from Damien and the knife. Still staring at him, tears blurring her vision, she blinked rapidly to clear them, causing more to fall. She felt them run down her upturned face and slip into her hair—the hair he gripped tightly in his hand. A sob began to rise up and escape as she fought the feeling of hopelessness that was becoming an overwhelming sensation. She had no way to fight him without a bigger threat being made to her child.

Damien broke the silence with his venom-filled voice. “Did you really think I would share you with someone else, Victoria?” He gave her hair another yank to prove he had control of her. She spread her hands wider on the counter and made contact with the hot surface of the stovetop. On reflex she pulled back, but then her mind caught up and she realized she had just found her weapon. Knowing Damien was going to hurt her regardless, she really had nothing to lose.

She needed to get her hand a little closer to the sauce simmering on the stove, but without causing him to notice. She slowly closed her eyes in an attempt to make him yank on her head one more time, which would allow her to shift her arms in reflex. Sending a silent prayer up to whatever God would listen, time slowed down as she waited for his reaction. Thankful for the predictable yank, she extended her arm just enough to come into contact with the handle of the pan.

With his focus directly on her face, he must not have noticed. “How do you suppose we handle this little problem? Is it something
you
will take care of? Or should I?”

Anger, rage, nausea, and desperation filled her.
Take care of it
, she thought with disgust as her hand formed a tight grip around the handle. Bracing herself, she knew it was her only chance, even if she injured herself. It was far better than what Damien was threatening to do. Sucking in a shaky breath, she said, “I’ll take care of it, Damien.”

That evil smile was back on his face again. She took a moment to remember exactly how evil her husband really was just before she lifted the pot full of sauce and flung it in the direction of his face. His scream of pain was the first thing she registered, seconds before she felt the sting of the sauce scalding the skin of her shoulder and upper back. His hand released her hair as she felt the swift slide of the knife blade across her abdomen, immediately followed by sharp pain. Ignoring the pain, knowing this was her only chance, she braced her left hand on the countertop for leverage and spun herself around, letting the heavy weight of the pot in her hand guide her.

When the satisfying sound of her cookware making contact with Damien’s head reached her ears, she finally opened her eyes and watched. In slow motion, Damien fell into the counter opposite her, screaming in pain while trying to clear the thick white sauce from his face. Taking one more swing at his head with the pot, she almost slipped in the mess on the floor before righting herself. Her second swing didn’t make as satisfying contact as the first, but still had him stumbling backward.

Flinging the pot to the kitchen floor, Victoria took off at full speed toward the front of the house. She could hear Damien moaning in agony as the kitchen faucet came to life. Fumbling with the chain on the front door, it took her two tries before successfully swinging the door wide open.  Darting out the front door, she wasn’t sure where she was going to go, but the sight of her neighbor across the street pulling into his garage caught her eye.

Not looking back, she started yelling in his direction, “Help! Please help me!” After getting out of his car, he came around to the back of it. She had caught his attention and he must have seen the urgency on her face as he dropped his briefcase and moved quickly toward her. She heard Damien yell her name, but she didn’t turn to look. When her neighbor reached her, she pleaded, “Please … help me. He’ll kill me …”

Feeling the strong arm of the man helping her wrap around her waist, she leaned into him as he pulled her quickly up his driveway and into his open garage. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard Damien’s voice again; he was getting closer. Looking back this time, she could see him running across the street toward the closing garage door she was trying to hide behind. Her savior gripped her tightly as they watched the door descend, blocking their view of her husband’s pursuit. The door met the ground seconds before a loud bang echoed through the garage, causing her to jump, and the other man to hold her tightly. “Don’t worry, he can’t get to you now.”

Damien began pounding and yelling as the man whose name she didn’t know began speaking into his phone. “We need help. I’m with a woman who was being attacked. We’re trapped in my garage, and her attacker is trying to get to us through the door. Yes, she’s injured, but I don’t know how badly. There appears to be blood on her front, but I don’t know if it’s hers or not.”

Blood?
Her hand quickly went to her stomach as she looked down. When she registered the wetness of her clothes against her body, she pulled her hand back to see it was covered in blood. Shock began to overwhelm her as her body finally registered the pain from an injury she had forgotten she received. Shaking, she let her weight pull her to the ground. The man guided her as he continued to talk into the phone, coming down on the cold cement next to her.

His face swam in her vision as blackness began to fill the edges and cloud over him. She whispered, “No, not my baby … please …” before everything went black.

CHAPTER ONE

JASON scanned the crowd of people slowly filling the reception hall. Jake and Gillian had put together a great looking party, and he was looking forward to having a good night with his family. Spotting his friend, Mike, escorting Allie to a table near the front of the room, Jason made his way toward them. Wasn’t the wedding party supposed to sit together? Feeling confident that was the case, he followed them.

Stepping up alongside Allie, one of his oldest friends, he slipped his arm around her waist and squeezed just where he knew she was ticklish. He smiled as Allie jerked to the side and let out a squeal. He was still smiling when she turned and looked up at him. “Dammit, Jason! Never make a girl move like that when she’s been squeezed into a dress like this and is balancing on four-inch heels.”

Allie shoved him in the chest, but he didn’t move much. Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek, “Sorry, Al. Did I mention how great you look tonight?”

“Oh, you’re smooth. Direct me away from my annoyance by offering compliments,” she said with a smirk.

He shrugged. “It would only be wrong to do something like that if I were lying, and I’m not, so it’s a smart move on my part.”

“I would have to agree,” Mike said as he moved in close to Allie and pulled her softly against him. Jason watched when Allie leaned against Mike’s chest, sighing as he kissed the top of her head.

Jason was happy Allie had found a man like Mike to fill the empty spot in her life. When they all lost Marc almost six years ago, he never thought it was something he would see happen. But seeing how it had, he couldn’t be happier with the choice Allie made. Mike Lawson was one of the good guys—the kind you could easily get approval from big-brother types like himself.