The belt buckle struck the bedside lamp with a jarring clang before it struck me, and the sharp metallic ring sounded exactly like a gunshot echoing through the room. My husband smiled with a terrifying brightness as if our marriage had finally reached the precise, dark moment he had been waiting for all this time.
“Now that the honeymoon is officially over,” Jasper said, wrapping the thick leather strap tightly around his fist, “you really need to learn the basic rules of being a loyal wife.”
We had returned from our trip to Saint Thomas only three hours earlier. My heavy suitcase still stood open beside the bed, filled with bright silk dresses, expensive sunscreen, and dozens of photographs of us pretending to be blissfully happy.
During the entire vacation, Jasper had complained incessantly about my choice of clothes, corrected how I spoke to waiters, and demanded full access to my private bank account. I had foolishly mistaken his desperate need for control for mere insecurity. The heavy belt in his hand finally corrected that dangerous mistake.
I did not scream or beg for mercy. I slowly unbuttoned my loose travel shirt and let it fall onto the velvet chair.
His grin widened until it looked painful. “That is good. Obedience makes everything much easier for both of us.”
Underneath my shirt, I wore a tight black compression top and athletic boxing shorts. I reached into my suitcase, pulled out a pair of red training gloves, and tightened the straps with my teeth.
“This is perfect timing,” I said, meeting his gaze squarely. “I happen to need a sparring partner.”
Jasper laughed so hard he almost dropped the leather belt onto the carpet. He knew I worked at a neighborhood gym, but he firmly believed I just handled memberships and cleaned the weight equipment.
