Mark Coleman was experiencing a state of irritation. There was no damned reason for it, he thought, but it was with him all the same and had been since the wild night he had spent with Tonya Faro, three days before. There was no question about it; the woman was a nympho. She'd near extracted the marrow from his bones. He'd slept the day through Sunday, inasmuch as he had to be in court the following morning, and had not seen his beloved wife since he'd skipped out on her at the Club with Tonya, Saturday night.
Dianne had moved out of his bed, obviously, and established herself in another bedroom in the house. She had kept the door locked, took her meals in there and refused to see him. Only the housekeeper, Mrs. Gray, had laid eyes on her during the three-day period. Not that he gave a damn about that either, he kept telling himself, but after all she was his wife and there were certain obligatory functions, as such, he expected of her, one of which was to appear on the podium beside him that night at an election speech he was to make. He had sent word up to her by Mrs. Gray some two hours before, but Dianne had refused to acknowledge his order one way or the other, and at the moment he sat in his study drinking scotch and sodas and working up to a slow boil.
He had no idea how far A.C. Faro had gotten with her, but he felt certain it hadn't been all the way. She was too damned prudish for that… maybe a little hot necking and petting, but never any further… and that made him feel a bit better, although for the life of him he couldn't reason why. That's what he'd acquired her for, wasn't it? For bartering power, the image, and for whatever other advantage she could be to him along the way? So, why the irksome fermentations at the thought of her and Faro together? He'd had Tonya in every way, shape and form, hadn't he? And now he had the Reed Machine behind him… Hell, it was all going beautifully, even better than planned. So why the gnawing grumble in his belly? Let her sit up there and brood her tight little ass away if that's what she wanted… just as long as she conformed to his programming… Damn her, she certainly had no complaints… and maybe it was just about time that he told her that!
He stood abruptly, set down his glass and stormed from the room, taking the wide stairs two at a time. At her locked door, he hammered authoritatively. When she didn't answer, he stepped back angrily and kicked it open with the driving sole of his shoe, splintering the casing around the latch, the barrier swinging back forcibly to bang crescenduously against the wall.
Dianne lay on the bed attired in nightgown and negligee. She sat up with a start as he burst into the room, then stopped short to stare at her, his eyes red-rimmed and enraged. The sight of him reminded her immediately of her wedding night and a shudder passed through her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he raged. "There's no doors locked to me in this house, lady… especially yours!"
She had been shocked more than frightened by his onslaught and quickly gained control of herself. Three long days and nights of shame, degradation, tears, and finally acceptance with purpose had wrought a changed girl in Dianne Lovell Coleman… at least, she had convinced herself of this. She gave him a twisted, little one-sided smile that was almost akin to a leer.
"Really?" she said acridly. "I didn't know, master. I thought that even your whores were entitled to some privacy."
He took a step toward her, balled his fists, but caught himself. "Damn you, don't provoke me," he spat at her. "I've taken your little mood bit for three days now, and that's long enough. You'll move your things back into the master bedroom where they belong and you'll share my bed. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Dianne replied, her beautiful hazel eyes narrowed in a bitter loathing he had never dreamed possible.
"Good. Tonight, I have a speech to make at the Municipal Auditorium… you'll be on the stage beside me. Understand?"
"Whatever you say, master," she hissed back at him. "Only… don't you forget one thing, Senator… from this day forward I'm your wife in name only… nothing more. Do I make myself clear?"
Again, Mark sensed the rage mounting inside him and he clenched his hands tightly as it swept through him. "You're exactly what I tell you, you are!" he said through clenched teeth.
"I'm a whore!" she threw back at him, her eyes spitting venom. "And you made me that, my husband! Just a piece of human flesh to be used for the advantage of your career, remember? I'm a bitch and a slut… and I think perhaps I'm going to like it!"
Mark felt a cold, knotting sensation taking place in his entrails. It seemed to render him temporarily immobile. He could do nothing but stand and stare at her. He had never seen her this way… would never have believed it possible. Her whole being spewed vile hatred at him… but worse was the vicious implication of her self-denunciation. It could mean only one thing…
"Wh-What are you trying to say…?" He watched her eyes, narrowed and gleaming with little pinpoints of wrath. "Well…?"
"Just what the devil do you think?"
"Did… did you let Faro fuck you?" he shot at her.
Slowly, Dianne's smile broadened into a tight, almost bloodless grin. "Let him… I begged him to," she taunted. "And it was beautiful… the first time in my life I ever knew a real man… a fulfilling man! Yes, he fucked me but good, and if I'm lucky, he will again, damn you!"
Suddenly, the urge to beat her… to destroy her… to kill her was almost unbearable inside him. He felt the hot tears of bitter rage trickling down his cheeks and the aching lump in his throat nearly choking him. Oh God almighty! What had he done to her? He steeled himself, his nails digging into the flesh of his own palms, in an effort to keep himself from leaping on her and tearing her to pieces. He had to force himself to back away before he lost all control entirely. He moved in a backward motion all the way to the door, his tear-glazed vision filled with the magnificence of her beauty… the soft, chaste loveliness that he had selfishly bartered into defilement by another man… He read the continuous hatred she was hurling at him with her eyes until he could bear it no longer. He spun about and walked quickly from the room, the sobs choking up from his breast, and stumbling along the hallway, he cursed himself and all the Colemans before him who had doomed him to damnation.
Alone, Dianne's outward display of rancor quickly disappeared and she lowered her face into the pillow, her long blonde silken hair fanning out and covering her head and shoulders like a golden coverlet… then, she wept for a long, long time.