Chapter 2 My Greatest Regret

Luther strode in. His gaze faltered for an instant at the sight of blood spread across the floor. But as soon as he caught sight of Cressida in the corner, his face iced over. "So this is what you call getting abducted and dying?" he questioned. He marched over and seized her by the wrist, his tone steeped in mockery. "You disappeared for a whole week—phone off, no replies—and even Grandma was worried. You did all that just to make me find you? You're so calculating that it makes me sick. "Nat just got back, and you've already got her catching flak? Do you really think this will make me worry about you?" he asked. Luther squeezed hard, as if to break her wrist. A livid band of bruising rose under her skin almost instantly. Cressida had always had a low tolerance for pain, but she barely felt it now. Maybe it was because she'd already endured pain worse than death. What she experienced now barely registered compared with that. Luther's words did the damage instead, and they shattered her heart. Even if they were barely more than acquaintances, wouldn't anyone worry if she suddenly went missing? But she'd been missing for a full week, and he hadn't cared in the slightest. He even thought she'd done it on purpose to cause him trouble. What did those three years mean to him—years I spent groveling and handing him whatever he asked for? Cressida's eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him. She waited a long moment before she spoke. "What if something really had happened to me? What would you have done then?" Luther's lips tightened. His eyes went cold. Though he didn't rush back after receiving that call, he did ask the butler where Cressida had gone. When he learned she'd just driven out, he was sure she was lying. There were cameras all over the villa community. The idea that she could have been taken right after leaving was almost impossible. And now, Cressida still refused to admit she was wrong after vanishing and stirring up a fuss. He'd flinched at the reek of blood when he came in, and yet here Cressida stood in one piece. How did she have the gall to say that? "I'd be more than pleased if something really happened to you. Marrying you has been my greatest regret." Luther gave a cold, mirthless snort, tightened his grip, and jerked her out of the warehouse. "Now, knock it off and come back with me. I don't have time to waste on you." Cressida staggered as he hauled her outside, that bone-deep pain still clinging to her. He yanked her into the car, slammed the door, and got behind the wheel. They drove back to the Ashworth residence. As they arrived, Cressida immediately spotted Natasha Ashworth at the window. She was arranging flowers with her long blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders, looking serene and elegant. Natasha looked up when she heard the sound of the engine and waved, smiling. "Lud, you're back. Did you find Cressie?" She sounded concerned, but her words came with a barb. "Really, Cressie. Throwing a fit is one thing, but how can you make everyone worry like this?" Luther glanced at the back seat, his face set as he pulled the door open. Cressida stepped out and looked at Natasha, a self-depreciating smile tugging at her lips. Even if she had really died, would Luther have felt anything but relief? Only a week had passed, and he'd already brought Natasha home. If not for his grandmother, Colette Pearce, worrying about Cressida, he likely wouldn't have looked for her at all. When she first returned to life, Cressida clung to a shred of hope. She'd thought getting Luther to say "I love you" might not be so hard. But now, she no longer had the will to beg for his love. She found herself thinking of that brief moment when she'd arrived, how she'd barely caught Natasha's eyes widening in disbelief.