I picked up the crystal decanter, poured the dark Bordeaux into my goblet, and gulped it down, letting the burning alcohol slide into my stomach to numb the heavy throbbing in my chest, as if an invisible fist were squeezing my heart.
Suddenly, the digital lock on the front door beeped, and my fingers tightened around the empty glass stem as a tall shadow fell across the foyer.
Denver Dickerson, my husband of three years, the reigning NHL superstar captain and heir to a hundred-billion-dollar sports empire, pushed the door open, carrying the freezing chill of the Madison Square Garden ice rink with him, his black tailored suit jacket slung carelessly over his knuckles.
He didn't even spare a glance at the glowing candles on the table, walking straight to the marble bar while his long fingers yanked his silk tie loose with the lazy arrogance of a man used to ruling every room.
I took a deep breath, stood up from the barstool, and walked toward him, my high heels sinking softly into the Persian rug.
He paused mid-pour, tilting his head as his deep blue-gray eyes locked onto me with pure mockery.
"What little game is Mrs. Dickerson playing tonight?"
That cold title washed over me like a bucket of ice water, freezing me from head to toe, yet I forced a flat smile and stepped within two feet of his towering frame.
He frowned slightly, his massive athlete's build forcing me to tilt my chin up as the sharp scent of his aftershave mixed with locker room frost filled my lungs.
I raised my hand and brushed my fingertips lightly across his stiff lapel, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt tense instantly.
He clamped his hand around my wrist with bone-crushing force, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
"You're drunk, Erie."
Riding the buzz of the wine, I didn't pull back, meeting his sharp glare with a soft, breathless whisper.
"It's our third anniversary, shouldn't we do what married couples do?"
Denver's pupils shrank, his Adam's apple bobbing as his grip on my wrist tightened and his breathing hitched.
Catching him off guard, I twisted my wrist free and threw both arms around his broad shoulders, pressing my weight against his rock-hard chest.
He let out a low grunt, his hands coming up to shove me away, only to freeze mid-air the second his palms brushed my waist, as if my skin had burned him.
I stood on my tiptoes, letting my warm breath ghost across his sharp jawline while the pulse under his skin began to hammer wildly.
Suddenly, his large hand gripped the back of my head, dark fire roaring in his blue-gray eyes.
"You asked for this."
The room spun as he slammed me back against the freezing marble bar counter, the chill biting into my spine before his burning body covered mine completely.
His mouth crashed down on mine in a punishing, relentless kiss, stealing every bit of air from my lungs.
I shut my eyes as a single hot tear slipped down my cheek, my fingers clutching his dress shirt tightly to match his loveless frenzy.
A crystal glass was knocked off the counter, thudding onto the carpet just as his muscular arm scooped me up and carried me into the dark master bedroom.
He threw me onto the king-sized bed and came down on top of me before I could even sit up, his heavy shadow swallowing me whole.
He ripped his shirt buttons open, revealing the pale stitched scar from an old hockey skate beneath his left collarbone, radiating raw, suffocating heat.
I turned my head away to dodge his mouth, though my fingers sank into the tight muscles of his broad back.
Sensing my resistance, he paused and let out a cold laugh before his large hand tore my thin silk nightgown open.
Skin met skin with scorching heat, and I bit my lower lip hard to choke back the broken sob rising in my throat.
Displeased by my silence, he bit down hard on my collarbone, leaving a dark red mark before burying his face in the crook of my neck with ragged breaths.
Lightning flashed outside the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cold, detached lust on his face as I squeezed my eyes shut in total despair.
The tangled madness of alcohol and desperation dragged on until he finally rolled off me, leaving only heavy panting in the dark room.
I numbly pulled the duvet over my bruised body, listening to his breathing slow into deep sleep as the last trace of warmth inside me died out.
Sliding out from under the covers, I placed my bare feet on the freezing hardwood floor and walked into the walk-in closet, my legs trembling with every step.
I threw a loose trench coat over my battered frame and pulled a brown kraft folder from the very bottom drawer.
Walking back to the bedside, I stood in the pale moonlight, staring down at the man who was my husband only on paper, ready to use this document to end his delusions of my greed once and for all.