Page 2 of His Wounded Heart

Liz nodded.

“I didn’t hear you,” he coaxed.

She looked up at him. “Yes, it helped, Ned.” Her smile was tremulous.

Looking satisfied, he reached over his plate and picked up the delicate gravy boat, and poured some of the gravy onto his potatoes. It horrified Liz when she saw how slowly the gravy came out of the boat.

It’s cold!

Ned put the container back down on the table and turned his head to look up at her. His eyes almost glowed with fury. “I think you provided me with cold gravy. Is that true?”

Liz couldn’t answer. She was terrified.

“Let’s see, shall we?” he asked.

He picked up his fork and filled it with potatoes and gravy, then took a bite. She watched his face turn purple with rage as he spit the food onto her shoes.

Ned shoved up from the table, knocking his chair over. He grabbed the gravy boat and flung it across the room. Liz watched in terror as the china shattered and gravy bled down the wall. Ned backhanded her against the sideboard.

“That’s two, Elizabeth. God help you if there’s a third.”

Liz made a mad grab for the wine, just catching it before it fell over. She didn’t care about her pain. Pain was nothing new, but she knew having a third infraction was utter hell. There had been four in the last two months. That’s why she’d been stealing small amounts of money out of Ned’s wallet every week, so she could escape. Her friend Dora was going to help her.

Ned righted his chair and sat back down, putting his linen napkin back on his lap.

“Get over here and quit your whining.”

Liz’s legs were trembling, and she was dizzy from the hit. She didn’t know if she could walk the four steps that would bring her next to Ned.

“Elizabeth, I’m waiting,” he practically crooned.

She looked at him and did her best not to show her hatred. There he sat in his three-piece suit. A white shirt that she had taken great care to iron, and an expensive silk tie that she had bought for him on one of the few days she was allowed out of the house. With his blond hair, white teeth, green eyes, and perpetual tan, he was gorgeous. How could she have not seen the monster hidden below the surface?

“Elizabeth, this is your last warning,” he whispered.

Liz walked over on shaky legs and stood beside him.

Ned picked up his fork and steak knife and cut into the bearnaise-covered pot roast and brought it to his mouth, then set the utensils back down. He pulled the partly chewed piece of meat out of his mouth and set it carefully down beside his plate. Then he used his fork to wipe off the sauce from the five pieces of meat.

“Look at the meat, Elizabeth.”

“I see it,” she said softly.

“Look closer. How do I like my meat cooked?”

“Medium rare, Ned.”

“How is this roast cooked, Elizabeth?”

She swallowed. She knew that the meat was medium-rare, but if she said that, he would say she was lying, and it would be her third mistake. But if she agreed it wasn’t medium-rare, that would be her third mistake too.

“I’m sorry, Ned,” she pleaded. Praying he would show mercy. Her ribs still hadn’t healed from the last time.

He placed his napkin over his diner and pushed back his chair.

“That’s number three. Obviously, you don’t know your way around a kitchen.” He seized her sore wrist in a steely grip, and she gasped in pain. “Shut up, that’s nothing.” He dragged her into the kitchen.

“Look at this mess. I provide you with the most expensive home on the block, a beautiful kitchen covered in marble, decked out with high-end stainless-steel appliances, and you still fuck up my meals. How is that possible, Elizabeth? How?”