Read Online Graham's Fiance by Elizabeth Nelson - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Nelson
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States right now.”
“I can’t. Maybe...maybe he’s just talking,” but even as she said the words, she remembered how frightened she felt when Graham had her in his unyielding grip. “I just wanted somebody to talk to, I guess.”
“You can talk to me anytime, please know that.”
“I do.” That was the reason she called him.
She’d thought about calling her brother, but it seemed like too much to unload on him. Too much to deal with after his spiritual cleanse in India. Shit! It was too much for her to deal with.
“Thanks for answering my call,” she said.
Michael made a harsh noise. “Savannah...,” he breathed deeply. “Please get on a plane and leave that man. He could hurt you. I don’t think those threats he’s made are idle.”
“You may be right, Michael. But I just can’t leave him. He’s my husband. I just married him a few days ago.” Oh God! Had it only been a few days? “I don’t want to abandon something that can be saved.”
“Don’t be naive. Nothing attached to that man can be saved,” Michael paused. “Do you know that he killed his first two wives?”
Surprise stopped Savannah’s breath. She remembered Monique saying something about another wife but....
“Are you sure?” She clenched her hand that was suddenly trembling in her lap.
“I don’t have any proof, if that’s what you mean.”
Suddenly, the conversation was too much for Savannah. “Listen, Michael. I have to go. Thank you for picking up the phone. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Savannah!” His voice rose.
“I really have to go. I’ll see you when I get back home, okay?”
“You should leave him. Leave him and come home to the people who love you.”
“I’ll be all right, Michael. Take care of yourself. I’ll be home soon.” She hung up the phone, cutting off his raised voice.
She sat with the phone in her lap, her hands trembling around it. Graham had had wives before her. She remembered being surprised at hearing that the night before, recalled that information falling away under the sheer weight of everything else that had happened to her.
Other wives? And Michael thought he had killed them. He had no proof. He was worried for her. Graham had threatened her. Twice.
Savannah tucked her phone back in her purse, blinking out at the bright day with the beautiful Parisians passing before her eyes on foot, riding scooters, and in tiny little cars. The city loomed above her, ancient and enthralling.
A dream she had had ever since she was a child was to come to Paris and see the beautiful city. The singular Parisians with their berets and cigarettes and their beautiful accents. Their fashion. And she was finally among them. But she was miserable. The misery sat in her belly like a yawning sore as tears threatened again.
How could a dream have become so twisted? What was she going to do?
Chapter 7
Savannah spent the rest of the morning out in the city by herself. She kept her phone nearby in case Graham called but he never did. And she never called him. Instead she went to the Louvre and walked through its magnificent halls, absorbing the history, the art, the unique solitude she found from being with hundreds of strangers in a quiet, public place.
She didn’t want to go back to the hotel. But she had no choice. Her clothes were there. And for better or for worse, so was her husband. Late afternoon. Almost five o’ clock.
She found herself tired from her sleepless night, her eyes dropping closed as she sat in the Louvre courtyard with her baguette, hunk of cheese, and bottle of Perrier. The courtyard rang with hundreds of voices, the sound of laughter. Sunlight glinted off I. M. Pei’s glass pyramids, dazzling her eyes. Although she wanted to fight the reality of it, it was time to go back to the hotel. She was tired. Her body was exhausted from its emotional
“I can’t. Maybe...maybe he’s just talking,” but even as she said the words, she remembered how frightened she felt when Graham had her in his unyielding grip. “I just wanted somebody to talk to, I guess.”
“You can talk to me anytime, please know that.”
“I do.” That was the reason she called him.
She’d thought about calling her brother, but it seemed like too much to unload on him. Too much to deal with after his spiritual cleanse in India. Shit! It was too much for her to deal with.
“Thanks for answering my call,” she said.
Michael made a harsh noise. “Savannah...,” he breathed deeply. “Please get on a plane and leave that man. He could hurt you. I don’t think those threats he’s made are idle.”
“You may be right, Michael. But I just can’t leave him. He’s my husband. I just married him a few days ago.” Oh God! Had it only been a few days? “I don’t want to abandon something that can be saved.”
“Don’t be naive. Nothing attached to that man can be saved,” Michael paused. “Do you know that he killed his first two wives?”
Surprise stopped Savannah’s breath. She remembered Monique saying something about another wife but....
“Are you sure?” She clenched her hand that was suddenly trembling in her lap.
“I don’t have any proof, if that’s what you mean.”
Suddenly, the conversation was too much for Savannah. “Listen, Michael. I have to go. Thank you for picking up the phone. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Savannah!” His voice rose.
“I really have to go. I’ll see you when I get back home, okay?”
“You should leave him. Leave him and come home to the people who love you.”
“I’ll be all right, Michael. Take care of yourself. I’ll be home soon.” She hung up the phone, cutting off his raised voice.
She sat with the phone in her lap, her hands trembling around it. Graham had had wives before her. She remembered being surprised at hearing that the night before, recalled that information falling away under the sheer weight of everything else that had happened to her.
Other wives? And Michael thought he had killed them. He had no proof. He was worried for her. Graham had threatened her. Twice.
Savannah tucked her phone back in her purse, blinking out at the bright day with the beautiful Parisians passing before her eyes on foot, riding scooters, and in tiny little cars. The city loomed above her, ancient and enthralling.
A dream she had had ever since she was a child was to come to Paris and see the beautiful city. The singular Parisians with their berets and cigarettes and their beautiful accents. Their fashion. And she was finally among them. But she was miserable. The misery sat in her belly like a yawning sore as tears threatened again.
How could a dream have become so twisted? What was she going to do?
Chapter 7
Savannah spent the rest of the morning out in the city by herself. She kept her phone nearby in case Graham called but he never did. And she never called him. Instead she went to the Louvre and walked through its magnificent halls, absorbing the history, the art, the unique solitude she found from being with hundreds of strangers in a quiet, public place.
She didn’t want to go back to the hotel. But she had no choice. Her clothes were there. And for better or for worse, so was her husband. Late afternoon. Almost five o’ clock.
She found herself tired from her sleepless night, her eyes dropping closed as she sat in the Louvre courtyard with her baguette, hunk of cheese, and bottle of Perrier. The courtyard rang with hundreds of voices, the sound of laughter. Sunlight glinted off I. M. Pei’s glass pyramids, dazzling her eyes. Although she wanted to fight the reality of it, it was time to go back to the hotel. She was tired. Her body was exhausted from its emotional
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