Union

43.

Maria
It doesn't mean anything. Roel just wants us to pretend to save any embarrassment. I keep repeating my argument trying to kill any hope inside of me. Just because I've suddenly decided to drop the guard around my heart doesn't mean he's changed his stance.
The hope dies a quick death when the zip ties tug against my wrist and ankle. Anger coming back, fucking asshole. Who randomly has them to hand? Or attaches a person to themselves? A crazy bastard who I stupidly fell in love with.
His movements are careful so the plastic doesn't cut into my skin and Roel stays half a step in front of me shielding the ties from anyone who could see. The split in my dress makes it easier to keep my leg close to his but there's no disguising the fact his pants don't sit right at the back. All it would take is someone looking him up and down, which they will because he's devilishly handsome and the relaxed suit he's wearing tells everyone he's powerful commanding their attention.
Walking into the gala we look like any other couple with our hands clasped together and Parker is stood waiting for us. There's a wide smile on her face and her brows go up seeing Roel. Giving me an approving head nod she kisses my cheek and introduces herself. "Mr Çami, I didn't know that you would be joining us tonight. I'm Parker Carrington, but don't call me Mrs Carrington. That was my mother in law, I wouldn't want to say her name too many times and summon the devil."
He looks surprised but charms his way into her graces. "I wouldn't want to leave two beautiful young ladies without a suitable chaperone." Parker rolls her eyes at his flattery and takes his other arm. She's one of the regular donors at Steorra and a fairy godmother. Everything about her belongs in a fairytale, except her sharp wit. That is devious and makes her one the people I aspire to be like. At 85 years old she's cut down assholes who spoke down to others in a way that keeps her sweet old lady image intact.
Guiding us inside, Roel keeps our arms hooked through his. My hand rests on his forearm trying to hide the stupid accessory neither of us needed and Parker takes the designated seat at my side. There's someone else's name on the card in the empty seat next to mine but obviously my darling husband wouldn't give a fuck about that and gets rid of it.
A rough hand lands on my thigh at the same time Parker pulls me into conversation. "You are a beautiful couple, young love is something that stays despite the years growing. Cherish it my dear." Sadness fills me seeing the grief in her eyes. "Mr Carrington was a special man." I don't offer any more, he passed away last year and even the children miss him. Both of them would come to Steorra and treat it like it was a day out for them.
Blinking away her emotions, she pats my hand before the rest of the table take their seats. When heat touches my back I can hear the confused mumbling as a man walks behind me and Roel looking at the place cards. I've become childish having spent so much time around him that I have to hide my laugh behind a champagne flute.
A finger moves in my periphery prodding Roel's shoulder and we both follow it looking up at the man it belongs to with matching blank expressions. Whoever he is there's recognition when he sees Roel. Fear makes him lose all colour but he stutters the words out not wanting to look weak. "I think there has been a mistake. This was supposed to be my seat Mr Çami."
Roel blinks dumbly and looks to the space where a card sat before he crumpled it and back to the man who's currently shitting himself. "No mistake, Leonard." His voice is deadly, but there's a twisted smile on his face.
Looking around the other attendees, the majority seem to know he is. Each person we've come across has addressed him by name. How the fuck does he know everyone? This benefit is for some rich people arts bullshit, not a circle I would associate with Roel. Leaning closer to his side I wait until Leonard walks away and keep my voice at a whisper so only he hears. "Who was that?" The truth has me turning looking for the asshole. "One of my fathers friends."
Threading my fingers through his out of choice under the table, I squeeze trying to offer as much comfort as I can. Roel doesn't seem affected, his posture relaxed. I'm on alert though, every single eye that looks at him with familiarity makes my suspect list. There's hundreds of people, at least a pair on each table keeping sight of ours.
There's a crack opening up in my chest at the realisation of how long my list of suspects is. All of these sick bastards hurt a child and now they sit back sipping champagne waiting to see if they've created a monster. Roel doesn't give them a second thought, he's the strongest person I know not using his anger to wipe these assholes off the planet.
I don't have the willpower to mask my emotions. Every single fucker deserves to see the truth that I know and how bright my hate burns for them. Soft lips brush my ear when I'm locked on my fourth target and Roel's whisper is barely audible over the sounds of the emcee doing their speech. "Come with me engjëlli." The soft voice should be an invitation but it's a warning so I'm not dragged out of my seat as we excuse ourselves.
Not letting go of my hand he walks us passed the other tables and to a private office. Pushing me against the door Roel cups my face and my hand moves with his slapping against my ear. There's no feigned ignorance like when we were sat at the table and his words are low trying to push understanding into me. "Those pricks don't get to win. They're weak little fucks and don't deserve a second of your attention angel."
My anger rises, they might not deserve shit but my hate is genuine. "Can't you kill them?" It's not said as a joke, I don't want them on the planet. They should all rot and be forgotten, the more I think about it the more my conviction grows. Roel moves back his brows coming together before his lips slowly lift. Kissing each of my cheeks he speaks against my lips. "Why?" I can't explain the sudden bloodlust, the only argument I have sounds weak to my own ears. "Because they hurt you." The silent meaning isn't lost and Roel looks confused. Tracing my features he searches for an answer to his unspoken question. "You care about me." It's not a question but the confusion grows.
Is he an idiot? I obviously care about the dumbass. Pushing against his chest I forget that we're bound together and move with him. "Obviously you idiot. I don't like the idea that people hurt you and they get to sit in front of you acting like it didn't happen." Emotion fills my outburst making Roel soften but he still has a bewildered expression.
The pain in my chest comes back, a pit opening in my stomach at the same time as I piece his life together. Roel hasn't had anyone care about him and I wrap my free arm around him trying to tell him that I do. I don't know who stopped him turning into a bitter and cruel person but there's someone out there responsible for showing him that the bastards who hurt him are nothing.
It takes him a moment to wrap his arms around me behind my arm in the process so we're both touching my ass. Pushing the emotional moment away, soft lips press into my neck before Roel's filthy thoughts come out. "I'll take care of you when we get home angel, you don't need to grope yourself here." Pressing our bound hands further into me I roll my eyes at his immaturity and my voice is monotone as I step back. "You're a child." The zip ties don't allow for distance, I have to turn to the side so I'm not attached to his front but Roel cups my neck tilting my face to look at him. The twisted smirk and lust in his eyes gives away his thoughts before he can voice them. Tracing the length of my body, he licks his bottom lip curling it between his teeth and moving our faces closer together. "I still fuck you like a man, your man."
My gulp is audible at his claim, it's not the same as when Roel calls me his wife. It's him telling me he is mine and my stomach starts fluttering. Our steps are in sync without the ties around our ankles as we enter the ballroom again. Roel turns rigid coming to a stop that has the plastic biting into my skin. Following his gaze I expect to one of the assholes who were staring at him before but there's only a group of woman sipping champagne and talking normally.
None of them look familiar until she turns and I see the face that belongs to the dark head of hair. Alistair Cameron's wife, the bitch who poses for paparazzi with a hand on her hip like she didn't use that same one to burn an innocent child. Roel's family being part of the entertainment industry means I know who they are more than the tabloids, the director who everyone wants to work with is a sick fuck and his wife matches his fucked up ways.
Threading our fingers together, Roel squeezes my hand and comes back to life. His steps are measured and a violent smile sits on his face. Everything goes quiet with the tension filling the room, the music is still playing and people drinking or talking but my mind mutes it all knowing it's not important. Expecting Roel to walk back to our table he changes course pulling me along until we reach the bar.
My entire life I've avoided confrontation, it's easier to ignore everything than to exhaust yourself with giving energy to whatever's going to happen anyway. For the first time, I wish I was different and could grab the snobby bitch and smash her face off the marble in front of us.
Giving her step-son a once over that is enough evidence to put her behind bars, bile burns my throat. Roel hasn't said anything about the abuse he faced other than the scars on his back but only a sick fucking bitch would do what she's doing. Busy shooting my disgust back at her, Roel leans across me and puts a flute into my hand. The cold crystal makes me break my connection and when I look back up she's closer.
"You should have kept your knife." Hiding the words behind the crystal a soft laugh touches my neck before a kiss is pressed into the spot. The footsteps get closer until she's stood in front of us and holds her cheek out expecting my husband to fucking touch her. Tightening my fingers around Roel's hand I tug before he can move.
The abusive bitch flicks her eyes across me dismissively and pulls a fake smile on her sour face. It's not that she isn't attractive, it's the truth of who she is that distorts her features making her the ugliest fuck I've ever seen. Even her voice is awful, too high pitched and making my insides wince. "You have looks that could kill, have you ever considered acting?" Confusion fills not only me but everyone within ear shot. The dumb fuck doesn't give a shit and continues making a fool out of herself. "My husband is a very important director, I could make an introduction if you wish." The insinuation is clear and Roel stiffens, his teeth grinding together and the hold on my hand tightening.
I'm stood right fucking here, my hand in Roel's. The ring on my finger is big enough to be seen from space and she's proportioning him like he isn't her married step-son. Taking a step forward Roel is cut off as a man calls his name pointedly. "Mr Çami, your car is ready." All the colour drains from her face when she realises who the fuck she's stood in front of and he keeps his anger caged. "Njerka." I don't know what the word means but her eyes widen and Roel leans forward. My body follows so I can hear what he whispers. "Get the fuck out of my city, I have no problem becoming the son who killed two mothers."
I've never heard him discuss his mother, or any of his family. It's always been little snippets of conversation that bring anger and vengeance to the forefront. He couldn't have killed his own mother, I know Roel. I sleep beside him every night and I've seen the violence he holds, it's cruel but only to those who deserve it.