“So unless you’re taking Krav Maga classes at the gym or got into a nasty spat with one of your sisters over the last bolt of vermillion charmeuse in your stockroom, I’d be willing to bet somebody’s pushing you around.”
Juliet’s eyes filled with tears, and the need to punish whoever had done this to her turned into full-blown bloodlust. His fists clenched, knuckles going white. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to remain perfectly still. To not stand up, round the desk and pull her into his arms. To not march down to the artillery room and suit up with as much weaponry as he could carry.
He swallowed hard. Took a deep breath and held it to the count of ten, then twenty, before letting it out again.
“Tell me what’s going on, Juliet,” he said, keeping his voice low, level, and reassuring. “Please.”
It was the please that did it, he could tell. Despite the moisture gathering at her lashes, she’d been holding on, holding back, determined not to admit anything aloud, especially not to a near stranger.
But on a ragged inhalation of breath, the dam broke. Twin trails of tears rolled down her cheeks and her bottom lip trembled as she started to brokenly confide in him.
“It was Paul,” she admitted. “I don’t know why he’s acting like this. He’s always been so kind and considerate. But the closer it gets to the wedding, the more...”
Volatile?
“...impatient he seems to be. The tiniest thing can set him off. And whenever we discuss the future—our careers or where we’ll live—he gets so angry.”
Still maintaining a Herculean grasp on his control, Reid asked, “Why?”
She sniffed, straightened a little in her chair, a hint of color returning to her cheeks.
“He wants me to move back to Connecticut once we’re married,” she answered. “But he knows my life is here now, in New York. To be close to my sisters and the business without having to commute. From the very beginning, he was fine with that—or I thought he was, anyway. He didn’t even ask me to marry him until after I’d moved down here to work, and Zaccaro Fashions was up and running. He said he was proud of me, wanted my handbag designs to be successful. And that he could work anywhere. He’s a lawyer,” she said as an aside. “I assumed that meant he would take a job at a New York law firm and move to the city, too.”
She took a deep breath, the moisture starting to dry on her face, but leaving faint streaks through the foundation of her makeup.
“Then he was offered a partnership at the firm he’s with now, and everything changed. He still wants me to be his wife, but he wants me to be a proper attorney’s wife. A trophy wife, I think—moving back to Connecticut to be with him, at his beck and call, giving up my work with Zaccaro Fashions to host dinner parties and attend charity events that will help further his career...”
Typical. Reid had never even met this guy, but he knew a selfish bastard when he heard about one.
“So why don’t you break things off?” he suggested, hoping he didn’t sound as hopeful as he felt.
Her shoulders slumped slightly and her gaze dropped to her lap. “I keep thinking...it’s just a phase. That he’s stressed because of his promotion. Or that maybe he’s more nervous about the wedding than he lets on.”
Lifting her blue eyes to meet his, she said, “He’s never been like this before. I’ve known him for years, even before we started dating, and he’s always been extremely considerate. What if he’s just going through a rough patch, or dealing with something I don’t understand?”
Reid clamped his teeth together so hard, he was afraid they might chip. “That’s no excuse for putting your hands on a person,” he bit out. “I don’t care how angry you get or what the hell else is going on in your miserable, messed-up life.”
She shook her head just like every other woman he’d ever met who put up with more from her significant other than she deserved.
“He didn’t mean to hurt me. Not really. We were fighting and things got a little out of hand. But the minute he realized what he was doing, he stopped. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
Speech number three from the Battered Woman’s Handbook. And it led directly to a life of misery and abuse, and often death—either the male’s or the female’s, sometimes both. But try telling that to a woman in love, one who wanted to believe the best of her future husband.
So just like every third party who’d ever tried to steer an abused woman in the right direction, he said, “You don’t know that. If it happened once, chances are it will happen again.” After a short pause, he added, “Would you like me to talk to him?”
Kick his ass. Break his hand so he could never touch Juliet or any other person again.
“No,” she responded quickly, shaking her head and sitting back in her seat. “No, no. I don’t want you to do that. It was a mistake, that’s all. With the wedding right around the corner, and the added pressure from our families to make it all work, everyone’s nervous and emotions are running high. Everything will be fine.”
She nodded, as though determined to believe her own words, even if she had to talk herself into it. Reid knew better, but also knew there was little point in arguing with her.
Pursing his lips, he waited until the red-tinged haze of anger faded from his vision. If he couldn’t convince her to kick the bastard to the curb or let him track the man down and beat him to a bloody pulp, then the best he could do was offer his support. Let her know he was there for her, without judgment—none that he wouldn’t tamp down and keep to himself, at any rate—in case she needed him.
Whether as someone to talk to or as personal protection once she realized her fiancé was more Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyll, he figured he was well qualified. She’d already confided in him, breaking down enough that he suspected she hadn’t mentioned Paul’s violent behavior to anyone else, including her sisters.
But he’d be even better at the personal-protection part. He was well trained and had access to a multitude of weaponry. Glancing again at the purplish bruises on her soft, pale flesh, Reid knew he would have no problem utilizing all of them. And calling in reinforcements, if he needed to.
“Where are you going from here?” he asked, catching her off guard with the sudden change of subject.
She startled slightly, giving a little sniff and swiping a knuckle delicately under each eye before licking her lips and answering, “Home.”
Reid’s eyes narrowed to snakelike slits. “Will the fiancé be there?”
Juliet looked even more surprised by that question. Or maybe it was simply a reaction to the barely banked fury Reid knew was still clear on his face.
“No,” she replied softly. “He’s on his way back to Connecticut.”
“Tell you what. Just to be safe, let me take you home.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed back his chair and stood.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she insisted, hopping to her own feet.
Rounding the desk, he took her
