Read The Husband Beside Me (The Devil Trilogy Book 2) for Free Online Page B

WORD!” He turned to faced me; his beautiful sky-blue eyes peering down at me like ice, his jaw closed tightly as he leaned forward, making me feel threatened. I leaned back into my seat and stared out the window.
    I didn’t know what had just happened, but seeing Daimon like that terrified me. I knew deep down he would never hurt me, not physically; he wasn’t the type. But whatever he was feeling had pushed him over the edge, bringing out in him an anguish I had never seen before. Daimon was hurting.
    I was assuming we were driving back home since Daimon had made it clear in the beginning that it wasn’t a good time for a honeymoon, and besides, it wasn’t likely we’d enjoy it since sex was off the table. I had sworn to myself I would never ever be weak like that night. Never would I ever go out seeking Daimon for comfort ever again, but when we stopped in front of St. Regis, my heart dropped.
    “What are we doing here?” I asked, but Daimon still in a foul mood, ignored me.
    He then stepped out of the town car and waited on the sidewalk. I could see photographers taking pictures and waiting behind security. God, please tell me they are not waiting for me? The moment I stepped out of the car, they went crazy. Lights kept flashing as Daimon wrapped his arm around my waist and led me inside.
    “Mr. Evans, on behalf of the St. Regis, we congratulate you. Mrs. Evans is quite beautiful; you are a very lucky man.” The manager of the hotel smiled at me. I nodded and smiled back, sinking behind Daimon.
    “So I have been told,” Daimon said severely. Ouch!
    The manager darted his eyes at me. I let out a sigh and smiled. I guess I’ll be spending most of my time apologizing for Daimon’s behavior.
    “If you would follow me please, I have your room ready for you.” We followed. Daimon was tight lipped and avoided looking at me. I could see the manager seemed somewhat aware of the atmosphere. How could he not?
    “So which room are we going to?” I asked the manager, knowing full well that the St. Regis had designer rooms, which I had read in the newspaper.
    “We have the Tiffany booked,” the manager smiled at me.
    “I wanted the Presidential!” Daimon barked.
    “Yes, I know, but like we told Ms. Somer, it was an impossibility since it had already been booked,” he said calmly. He knew how to deal with the rich and spoiled. “We have thrown in quite a few complimentary items to compensate,” he noted.
    “Thank you,” I said, counting down the steps it took for me to get into that room and out of my dress. Hold the phone. What will I be wearing if I’m not wearing my dress?
    We stood in front of two large wooden handcrafted doors that the manager opened. I stood in a foyer that was decorated with golden flakes and Tiffany’s signature pale blue. Peonies in various vases were placed on a table that was against the wall underneath a large mirror. Daimon had just walked in like he owned it and had always lived here.
    “If you need anything, we have assigned a butler to your room. Simply call the number and he will be glad to be of service.” The manger nodded and closed the door, leaving both Daimon and I utterly alone.
    I watched as Daimon walked over to the bar and opened up a bottle of scotch. He poured until it nearly hit the rim of the glass. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gulped it down.
    “Daimon,” I said quietly as I walked over to him.
    The quiet room was filled with the sound of my dress rustling. He poured himself another, but I put my hand on top of his, trying to stop him. He turned and faced me, his eyes cold and distant.
    “What, Addie? It’s not like we’re going to fuck. So why don’t you just go and leave me the fuck alone,” he said venomously.
    I watched as the Daimon I knew, who was always in control, unravel before me. He flicked his hand so I could remove mine and poured again, filling it up to the top.
    “Daimon, this isn’t you,” I stated.
    He took one long swig of