It’d been overwhelming the legalese of the documents he’d presented with his attorney had all been a jumble to her. He’d given her a day before finally coming to her with his own terms. Mistresses were expendable, wives were a little harder to dispose of, and Eden had been armed with at least that little knowledge. Since he’d wanted her badly enough, he’d grudgingly agreed to her one condition: marriage. He’d frightened her to the core, big and boorish as he’d been, waiting patiently, artfully manipulating every aspect of Eden’s life until she’d come to him. He’d stalked the club for a good month after that, always sitting in that wingback chair in the front row, his predatory gaze watching her every night she’d performed. Once he’d seen to bully his brother back to college where he belonged, threatening his inheritance if he refused to cooperate, Dominic had zeroed in on Eden. But then his big, bad brother, the head of the Armstrong family, had gotten wind of his errant brother’s ridiculous idea and had marched in to shut the whole thing down. Lucas Armstrong had been a good customer of Eden’s coming to Crazy Pussy for a good year before he’d proposed marriage. She had been one eviction notice away from homelessness, and he’d done it to, “keep her from ruining his younger brother’s life,” as he’d put it. He’d made their roles distinctively clear from the beginning, and she’d gone along with it because she’d needed the protection of his name and the money that went along with it. They were up in the Grafton Highlands, at another dull event that he’d dragged her to, because he wanted to flaunt her to his equally wealthy friends. Eden grabbed a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter before escaping to the veranda for some much needed air. She sighed resignedly, daring to look away fully knowing that he would discipline her for this unknown reason later. She hadn’t really done anything in the last few minutes to warrant the reaction, but then again, Dominic Armstrong didn’t need much to set him off these days. Like now for instance, she could feel that piercing stare from across the room, the distinct bite of his scorn putting her instantly on alert.
He never failed to remind her of her status in their marriage, whether it was with his remarks, that have only grown nastier over the years, or the reproachful looks, that seemed to carve across her flesh like a whip.
It was on occasions like these that Eden realized how very little she mattered to her husband.
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