Slap!
Macey stumbled back, touching her face as she stared wide-eyed at the man who had been her husband for the past two years: Julius DaLair. His sandy blonde hair crowned him like a halo, but there was nothing angelic about his current expression. He stood in front of her with his face blazing with anger. His gray eyes were a storm of emotions.
In the last few months, he had grown cold and dismissive, but never raised a hand to her before. His breath smelled heavily of alcohol. She could only guess how many drinks he had imbibed since they arrived at his father’s public birthday celebration.
For a brief moment, his expression became ashen, and he stared at his hand in horror, as if shocked by what he had just done. He blinked as the fog of alcohol and rage still churning within bubbled back to the surface.
“You’re just like the rest of them, aren’t you?” Julius demanded. “You’re just a gold-digging whore!”
“N-no…”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”
“But I’m not.”
“What were you doing cuddling up to James? Is my money not good enough for you anymore?”
“I wasn’t. He came up to me! I told him…”
“I said I don’t want to hear your lies!”
Macey clenched her jaw, rubbing her sore cheek. Tears welled in her normally bright green eyes. Two years, he still didn’t believe a word she said, especially not when he had been drinking. Two years? No. Actually, it was longer than that, after all they had grown up together.
“You can go home first!” With a look of disgust, he turned and walked out of the private corner where he had dragged her from the crowd.
Macey stood, trying to compose herself. Their marriage had been one of convenience, more or less. Her father was a veteran and served in Vietnam. There he met and saved the life of Augustus DaLair. After coming home, her father suffered severe PTSD. Her mother, a nurse, encouraged him to use art as therapy and it worked. Slowly, he pieced himself together, married and started a family.
Art remained an important part of her father’s life. He tried to make it his livelihood. Though his paintings were praised for their innovative compositions and unique use of color, the fact they always depicted war scenes and soldiers meant there was only a limited demand for them and her father never made much money. In contrast, Augustus DaLair started a business empire.
Despite the vast difference in their social standings, Augustus remained their steadfast supporter. Her father refused to take handouts and, in order to support his friend, Augustus became his most loyal patron, buying most of her father’s paintings, thus ensuring they had an income. They were never rich, but they had what they needed.
Though her father wouldn’t take charity, he was glad to accept invitations to family gatherings and occasionally family vacations. Macey grew up alongside the DaLair brothers: March and Julius. They were like the cousins she never had. March treated her like a younger sister, and she secretly developed a crush on Julius when she was just eight.
Her father passed away from a heart attack when she was sixteen. Augustus became an even stronger supporter of her and her mother. In memory of his friend and the one who saved his life, he vowed to help Macey and her mother in whatever capacity they needed, even assisting her to attend the School of Visual Arts. Her college plans came to a sudden end when she turned twenty and dropped out to care for her ailing mother, who passed away shortly after. Two years later, she and Julius married.
It was Augustus who first proposed the idea of marriage to one of his sons. She wasn’t sure if it was charity or his abiding desire to ensure her a comfortable future. March was over ten years her senior and already married, which, naturally, left Julius as the groom of choice. Though she initially spoke out against it, her secret crush on Julius had only grown over the years. It had taken some time for Julius to agree. Macey tried not to seem overeager, but inwardly she was thrilled. At first, their marriage seemed to work. Despite his earlier reluctance, Julius was a model husband: attentive and sometimes even caring. It was her hope that eventually he would come to love her, but it changed six months ago. Rumors started to circulate. Her family had been poor and well below the DaLair family’s means. People called her a gold-digger, a shameless tramp and a hundred other names. She tried not to let it bother her, but it never occurred to her Julius would belie
Macey didn’t know how long she sat there before finally coming to a decision. She flipped through the divorce papers until she came to the last page where it called for her signature. Using his favorite pen, she signed with her neat scrawl. Then she grabbed a small paper pad, writing a short note before setting down the pen. With a sigh, she removed her wedding and engagement rings, setting them on the stack of papers. Opening the drawer where Julius kept his cigars, she grabbed a lighter and ashtray. Holding the hospital report, she lit the corner on fire and watched it burn before dropping it into the tray. The paper burned quickly, turning brown and crumbled to ash. Satisfied, she clutched the ultrasound picture to her chest, tossed the card and left the study. Retreating to the bedroom, she moved to the walk-in closet and stared down her side filled with dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes of every kind and style, none of them hers. Going to the d
“Oooo! Here it is!” Katherine excitedly cooed as she dragged Julius into the newly opened art gallery. Though its grand opening was still a week away it was open for business. Located along East Houston Street it enjoyed proximity to several other galleries and ensured a steady stream of curious visitors. His father might not have much experience when it came to art but he knew a good location so Julius was not surprised; however, it still didn’t explain why his father bought the art gallery in the first place. He sighed. It had only taken a day for Katherine to recover from his father’s public rejection. Julius hated to admit it but she had some fortitude. She probably thought it earned her sympathy from him but he couldn’t care less, if she wanted to punish herself by irritating his father that was her business. Julius glanced around him to distract himself from her irritatingly shrill voice. Gray Studio Gallery’s mission was to be the p
He obeyed orders and carried them out to the letter, but seemed to lack imagination. Battle was a fluid thing and sometimes it was necessary to think on one’s feet, but Carl seemed to lack this ability. It caused strife among the other members. When not actively training, he spent an inordinate amount of time checking his gear, sharpening his knife or disassembling and cleaning his weapon rather than hanging out with others. Even at meal time, he kept himself apart, quietly observing and listening to them, but never actively participating in their conversations. Not wanting any disharmony with his men, Augustus took Carl aside to confront him about these issues. Carl merely nodded quietly and shrugged when he was asked to work on them. Frustrated, Augustus demanded, “These men are your comrades. How can you expect them to watch your back if you don’t prove yourself to them?” “I don’t expect them too,” Carl answered easily. Augustus was at a
“How are you feeling, my dear?” Augustus asked. “Better.” Macey managed a smile. She was relaxed, reclining on her pillows. It had been just over a week since she arrived at the mansion. The staff had been told not to reveal the identity of their guest and to treat her with the upmost care, following doctor’s orders. Luckily, his sons were infrequent visitors and since his birthday party there was little need from them to come home when they saw him at work every day. Normally, Augustus lamented their inattention, but now he was grateful as it allowed Macey to recover without interruption. “I’m glad,” Augustus sighed. “And the baby?” “The doctor says its heartbeat is strong, so she doesn’t think there will be any complications as long as I avoid unnecessary stress.” “Good.” Augustus didn’t try to hide his relief, but worried how the next topic would affect her. “As much as I don’t want to, I need to discuss something wi
Augustus fell silent. If it was over, why was Julius looking for her so desperately? Something didn’t add up. Could it be? Could Julius have finally realized the truth? Maybe…But was it too little too late? The woman in front of him was resigned. She had given up the love she had nurtured for so long, truly believing it was over. Would Julius be able to convince her he made a mistake? No. In her current state, she probably wouldn’t even listen. “Let’s face it, he and I, we’re too different. I just don’t belong in his world and I guess he knew it from the beginning,” Macey let out a sniffle, prompting him to give her a tissue. “It’s better if I just leave. I don’t want to cause problems.” Augustus studied her for a long moment in silence. Perhaps it was better to put distance between them, for now. Macey had always lacked confidence when it came to standing among the DaLairs. Though they treated her as a member of the family, she could
“Are you all right Miss?” Stephen asked with concern as they exited customs. “I’m fine,” Macey sighed. “Air travel has never been my favorite.” “It will be much easier from here.” Hailing a cab, Stephen loaded her luggage into the trunk, then gave instructions to the driver. Macey listened, amazed at the ease with which he handled the situation. “Stephen, I didn’t know you could speak French.” “I can’t.” “But.” “I learned a bit when I came here to set up your apartment,” he said, “but I only know enough to give the correct address.” Macey was silent for a time, “I’m going to need to learn.” “Miss?” “French. If I’m going to stay here I really should learn the language, don’t you think?” “You have a point. It will be useful when you begin attending school. But the state has several remedial programs, specifically for immigrants to learn the language.”
Victoria stepped out of the cab with a sigh, checking her phone for the address one more time before entering the building. Though she was generally confident and carefree, she had to admit she was feeling a little anxious about this meeting. She had seen the advertisement a week ago for a private tutor willing to teach remedial French to a newly arrived immigrant from America. Like many people, she didn’t have a favorable opinion of Americans in general. They were arrogant in their claims of coming from the greatest country in the world, as if their country never did anything wrong or didn’t have problems. At least other countries admitted their shortcomings. Then there was the American fascination with sex and sexuality when, at the same time, they were completely uncomfortable with their own bodies. They either saw themselves as too fat or too thin, too short or too tall. Half the population was busy trying to reach some unattainable ideal, while the
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