Worn Me Down (Playing With Fire, #3) by T.E. Sivec, Tara Sivec Page B

beat.
    “My name’s Gwen Marshall, but if my mother is around, you’d better call me Gwendolyn or she’ll think you’re a common man who has no social skills,” I informed him.
    William threw his head back and laughed and I couldn’t help but join him. His laughter was infectious and it made me forget for just a moment how much I hated my life.
    “Well, Gwen Marshall, what do you say we defy both of our parents? I’ll let you call me Billy if you let me take you out onto the dance floor and show you my moves.”
    William asked me on a date during our third dance that night at the charity event. I spent the next two years falling madly in love with him and thinking that my life was finally moving in the right direction. He was encouraging of my desire to go back to school for social work, he was thoughtful and romantic and he could always make me smile no matter what kind of day I was having. My parents adored him, mostly because he was quickly becoming one of the most sought after surgeons in New York and his success reflected back on them since we were dating. I didn’t care if they liked him or not; nothing mattered but the fact that, for the first time since my brother left, I’d found a man who understood me and love me for me and not for who my parents were or the amount of money they had.
    The first time William hit me, it felt like a dream. The kind where you’re floating above your body and you can see everything that’s happening to you. You try to yell down to yourself and change what’s happening right before your eyes, but your voice isn’t heard. We had been married for six months. Six amazing months where each day was better than the one before it. William honored my parent’s wishes and we didn’t live together until we were husband and wife, much to my annoyance. I didn’t care about anything but spending every waking moment with the man I loved. I couldn’t wait to fall asleep in his arms every night and wake up to his smile. Looking back now, I wonder if I would have seen William’s true nature if we defied my parents and I moved into his home before I walked down the aisle.
    On our six-month wedding anniversary, we got into our first fight. It started off small, something silly where I jokingly teased him about coming home late from work and how dinner had gotten cold. I made an off-hand remark about finding another husband who knew how to tell time. It was meant to be funny, meant to make him roll his eyes and kiss me on the tip of my nose as he liked to do and laughingly tell me he would never be late again. I remember smiling at him, waiting for him to join me and being completely unprepared for the sting of his palm against my cheek.
    Tears of shock rolled down my face and he immediately started crying right along with me, pulling me into his arms, kissing the tears away and telling me he would rather die than hurt me ever again. I was more in shock at seeing this confident, strong man fall apart in front of me than having him hit me and I immediately forgave him.
    I was such a fool.
    As I open the door to the apartment we share with Brady, Emma drops her book bag in the middle of the floor and races off to her room. When I hear the door close and I’m sure she can’t hear me, I drop the mail on the kitchen counter and pull out my cell phone. After a few rings, my lawyer, Michelle, answers.
    “Gwen, I was just about to call you,” she tells me.
    “Really? I’ve been meaning to call you for a few days, but I’ve been busy,” I tell her as I sort through the pile of mail. “Do you know if William is still in New York?”
    I feel stupid asking her this, but I trust Michelle. I spoke to five lawyers before I decided to use her. Each one told me I should immediately go back to New York and handle things the proper way. They told me I was making a mistake by running and that it would only cause problems in the long run. I knew they were right, but I didn’t care. The only thing I