the night before by a dream of choking. More specifically, it was a dream that Richard was choking her.
It wasn’t the first time, not by any means. But she hadn’t had the dream in some time. Partly, she thought, because he’d made no physical demands of her since their first night in Bethesda.
That night, he’d been insistent. He’d arrived home from Pakistan and made arrangements to purchase a brand new condominium in Bethesda, Maryland, right around the corner from the Metro station that was under construction.
“The location will be really valuable once the station is opened,” he’d said, droning mindlessly about matters she’d cared little about.
She didn’t care how his real estate investments did. She didn’t care how his career did. She hated him and how he’d destroyed her life.
Her disinterest had antagonized him, and he’d forced himself on her that first night back, then not allowed her to leave the room, even when Julia’s cries from down the hall indicated their daughter had wet her diaper.
Adelina thanked God she’d not had to deal with it since then. And that he hadn’t managed to impregnate her that night.
After that night, they’d fallen into an uneasy truce. She promised to handle their social engagements flawlessly. He promised not to hurt her.
It was no way to live, and she needed to find a better answer.
That morning, though, she knew exactly why the dream had come. Normally, the dream was formless, and it always started the same way—Adelina, in the practice hall of the National Youth Orchestra. Richard walked in, always in the black jeans and black t-shirt he’d worn the day he raped her the first time. Smiling. Menacing.
Last night, the dream had been different. Because he had been there. The smiling twenty-one-year-old Prince George-Phillip.
You’re a charming woman, Adelina, he’d said.
You’re too kind, she had whispered.
Every time his eyes grazed over her, she felt herself flush. It wasn’t that she hadn’t felt desired before. After all, Richard had desired her. But it was different. George-Phillip was kind. He’d been interested in what she had to say about the Youth Orchestra and her opinions of international politics, which she’d spent considerable time studying in the last year. His expressive face and animated eyebrows demonstrated how closely he was paying attention to what she said. Adelina might have had to drop out of school, but she was a very intelligent woman. No more than five minutes into their conversation, George-Phillip and Colonel Rainsley both realized that. The conversation had naturally shifted, mostly to the circumstances of Colonel Rainsley’s run for the Senate.
“The problem wasn’t that the orders were badly thought out,” Rainsley had said. “The problem was no one in the White House cared enough to think through the implications of putting us there with rules of engagement that wouldn’t allow us to defend ourselves. Do you know that was the deadliest day for the Marine Corps since Iwo Jima? And here’s the thing—the White House couldn’t even decide on a response. Too much political infighting, so we pulled our guys out, used a battleship to bomb the crap out of the wrong people and left it at that. Every single one of those young lives was wasted. ”
Of course the discussion had circled around politics and international affairs. Richard was a Foreign Service officer, and their guests included people who weren’t high government officials yet, but likely would be one day.
Adelina found herself staying careful. Periodically Richard’s eyes wandered to her, and it was important to maintain the pretense that she was entertaining their guests solely for his purposes.
In fact, she’d found herself more and more drawn in by George-Phillip. Rainsley, initially, was dismissive of George-Phillip’s opinion of anything military. That lasted right up until George-Phillip described the British recapture of the Falkland
It wasn’t the first time, not by any means. But she hadn’t had the dream in some time. Partly, she thought, because he’d made no physical demands of her since their first night in Bethesda.
That night, he’d been insistent. He’d arrived home from Pakistan and made arrangements to purchase a brand new condominium in Bethesda, Maryland, right around the corner from the Metro station that was under construction.
“The location will be really valuable once the station is opened,” he’d said, droning mindlessly about matters she’d cared little about.
She didn’t care how his real estate investments did. She didn’t care how his career did. She hated him and how he’d destroyed her life.
Her disinterest had antagonized him, and he’d forced himself on her that first night back, then not allowed her to leave the room, even when Julia’s cries from down the hall indicated their daughter had wet her diaper.
Adelina thanked God she’d not had to deal with it since then. And that he hadn’t managed to impregnate her that night.
After that night, they’d fallen into an uneasy truce. She promised to handle their social engagements flawlessly. He promised not to hurt her.
It was no way to live, and she needed to find a better answer.
That morning, though, she knew exactly why the dream had come. Normally, the dream was formless, and it always started the same way—Adelina, in the practice hall of the National Youth Orchestra. Richard walked in, always in the black jeans and black t-shirt he’d worn the day he raped her the first time. Smiling. Menacing.
Last night, the dream had been different. Because he had been there. The smiling twenty-one-year-old Prince George-Phillip.
You’re a charming woman, Adelina, he’d said.
You’re too kind, she had whispered.
Every time his eyes grazed over her, she felt herself flush. It wasn’t that she hadn’t felt desired before. After all, Richard had desired her. But it was different. George-Phillip was kind. He’d been interested in what she had to say about the Youth Orchestra and her opinions of international politics, which she’d spent considerable time studying in the last year. His expressive face and animated eyebrows demonstrated how closely he was paying attention to what she said. Adelina might have had to drop out of school, but she was a very intelligent woman. No more than five minutes into their conversation, George-Phillip and Colonel Rainsley both realized that. The conversation had naturally shifted, mostly to the circumstances of Colonel Rainsley’s run for the Senate.
“The problem wasn’t that the orders were badly thought out,” Rainsley had said. “The problem was no one in the White House cared enough to think through the implications of putting us there with rules of engagement that wouldn’t allow us to defend ourselves. Do you know that was the deadliest day for the Marine Corps since Iwo Jima? And here’s the thing—the White House couldn’t even decide on a response. Too much political infighting, so we pulled our guys out, used a battleship to bomb the crap out of the wrong people and left it at that. Every single one of those young lives was wasted. ”
Of course the discussion had circled around politics and international affairs. Richard was a Foreign Service officer, and their guests included people who weren’t high government officials yet, but likely would be one day.
Adelina found herself staying careful. Periodically Richard’s eyes wandered to her, and it was important to maintain the pretense that she was entertaining their guests solely for his purposes.
In fact, she’d found herself more and more drawn in by George-Phillip. Rainsley, initially, was dismissive of George-Phillip’s opinion of anything military. That lasted right up until George-Phillip described the British recapture of the Falkland
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