But the chivalrous act didn’t last long. Soon, the noose around my neck tightened, and tightened, and tightened some more. Raymond Snyder is not a gentleman; he’s a f*****g demon. If I didn’t enter this marriage with the sole intent of exacting revenge for what he did to Giana, I’d have been stunned by the abrupt and horrible turnaround.
I know what he is, though. I’ve known from the f*****g day I met him.
“That’s sweet,” I say to the bartender with a simpering smile. Then I turn it into a scowl. “Now, piss off and pour my damn drink.”
The bartender’s unibrow rises up half an inch on his forehead. I don’t think people who look like me talk to people who look like him very often. For a second, I wonder if I’m about to get thrown out of this place before I even get anywhere close to achie
