Sweet or Hard?

By Chelle Rose

Scarlet’s married to a monster—one she wants desperately to escape even before Alexander walks into her life... and complicates everything.

Getting away from Sullivan—her abusive husband—Scarlet thinks she can start her life over. And this time, she won’t waste time on men. All men are monsters, after all. So awful she needs therapy after the first man in her life; she might not survive another marriage.

Except one man she meets inspires feelings she didn’t know she had. Warmth, desire, excitement... her heart pounds when she meets this handsome stranger.

A handsome stranger who turns out to be her new therapist. He’s focused on helping her heal, but can he protect her from what Sullivan’s going to do next?

A Note from the Author:
Sweet or Hard? is intended for mature audiences!
This book may have triggers including but not limited to Trauma, Violence, Pregnancy or Infant Loss. Read at your own discretion. 18+

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chelle Rose
• Release date: May 26, 2022

Chelle Rose

Chelle Rose fell in love with reading when she picked up her first James Patterson novel as an adult. She loves writing and always has. Writing is her passion. She's excited to share her work with you. Chelle currently resides in Florida with her wonderful husband and son. She is excited about this next stage of her life. Between her family and her writing, she stays super busy and loves every minute of it. She hopes you enjoy her stories that remind us that there's hope in even life's darkest moments. After all, in the darkest night skies, the stars shine the brightest.

Book preview

Chapter one

I’m running as fast as my legs will take me through our backyard, trying to get away. The smell of freedom looms in the air as I run through a six-acre field. Where do I plan on going? I do not know because I don’t have my purse, no money, no phone. Nothing. Finally, I reach the end of the field, and my escape is imminent, or so I think. I don’t hear footsteps. I don’t hear anyone’s labored breathing except my own. Without warning, I feel it. Hands-on my ponytail jerking me back down to the ground, dragging me flat onto my back. Sullivan sits on top of me.

He’s punching me in the face, I can taste blood, although I don’t know if it’s coming from my nose or my mouth. I surmise it’s probably my mouth. I’m crying, my throat feels thick as I beg for him to stop.

You think you can just run away from me? Scarlet, what happens when you fucking run from me? The beating halts while he waits for the answer.

Fucking answer me, he almost yells.

There’s no one to hear us anyway in this field at three o’clock in the morning.

I get punished, I say softly, knowing what’s coming.

That’s right. You must enjoy being punished if you ran.

I beg, Please, Sullivan, don’t. I’m sorry. It will never happen again.

You are damn right it won’t happen again, Scarlet. Do you know why?

I shake my head no.

I’m teaching you a lesson right here and now. You defy me, you go against my rules, and you pay the price, he stands up.

Don’t fucking move, take it. You did this to yourself.

He is kicking me repeatedly, in the stomach, face, even between my legs. When he stops, he looks so pleased, as if he got off on beating the shit out of me. Relief spreads through his face and body, and it’s as if he needs me not to follow his rules.

It wasn’t always like this; he didn’t always beat me. On this day, we’ve been married for six months. When we were dating, he was not sweet, however, he didn’t hit me. He was controlling, and I didn’t notice. My friends were aware, but I was not, I ignored that vital detail.

Get up and go back to my house now.

His house? It’s our house. He likes me to know that everything we have is because he’s a mega-successful pediatric heart surgeon. I can barely walk; I do not know how I will make it to the house. I’m holding my ribs as I walk, it hurts so much.

Sullivan, can I go to the hospital? I think my ribs are broken.

He stares at me with a glint of humor in his eyes, No, you have too many injuries. Questions will be asked, and you will deal with the pain. Do you understand?

I nod, Yes.

The pain is almost too much to bear. I know that if I don’t do as I’m told, he will probably kill me, and I’m hoping that I don’t have internal bleeding or something serious. Finally, I made it to the house. I wait for him to enter first. His home, his rules. I make my way to the bathroom and get Advil to help with the swelling and pain. Sullivan, having found his release by beating me, has gone to sleep, thank God.

Staring at my face in the mirror is someone I don’t even recognize. My eyes are swollen, my lip is fat and bloody, and bruises form on my cheeks. I know the bruises I can cover, though my eyes and lip will not be concealed. I will need to work from home for the next several days. I cannot let my employees see me like this. On my way to get ice to reduce the swelling, I tell myself that maybe I’ll try again to get away one day. That day is not today. Today I am broken, exactly how he wants me. That’s what they do. First, they go for your spirit, and then they go for you physically. This is my life, I said until death do us part. Today, I am entirely sure that my death will be on his hands.

I walk to the bedroom because if he wakes and looks for me, he will be angry. I don’t want to make him angry twice in one night. I don’t think my body could take it. I stare at him and fantasize about killing him, thinking about a movie I saw a long time ago about a woman that sets a bed on fire with her abusive husband in it. I’m not an evil person. I’m not a murderer. I’d never actually be able to do it. It’s nice to fantasize about being free. I think the only way I could be free from him is for one of us to die. I know if I got away, he’d never stop looking for me. It doesn’t matter where I’d go; he’d find me. One day though, I’ll retake the chance.

I live the next nine and a half years with constant brutality. Choking has become his recent favorite. Every time he chokes me, I pray that he’ll kill me. It’s possibly the only way out. I don’t want to die, even so I don’t want to live like this. I decided I’m going to make a break for it. This time, I’ll be so much more intelligent. I will go when he’s at work, taking very few things. I know he watches the cameras periodically through the day. There are cameras in every room in this house. My best friend believes that he’s earnest about security. It has nothing to do with the fear of anyone breaking in. They are there to watch me because he works a lot of hours. He can be home in under thirty minutes if he’s not in surgery, so I know I must be quick. I have access to his calendar on my phone and laptop, so I can time it when he’s in surgery. However, surgeries get delayed or even canceled, so I know the risk I’m taking. I will take some clothes, that’s it.

I called my best friend April, I need you not to say a word. I’m considering leaving Sullivan.

She is shocked. I hear it in her voice, Is he having an affair or something?

I shake my head as if she can hear me doing so, Not that I’m aware of.

She questions me further, Then why?

I sigh audibly, I’m just not happy.

She let it go at that because that’s just how our friendship is. April knows when she’s pushing too hard and lets it go.

Do you need to see a therapist? I know a perfect one. I refer clients to him all the time.

I just say, Sure.

I don’t know that I need therapy, and I probably wouldn’t tell anyone, not even a therapist, about the violence. To appease April, I agree.

I decided that a few days from now would be the day I leave. He’s in surgery on Thursday, starting from six a.m. to eight p.m. I fantasize about it as he’s at work. I think about how it will feel to be free from violence. As I’m in the middle of my fantasy, Sullivan walks through the door. I freeze. I put my book down and go to the kitchen to take his dinner out of the oven. It’s lasagna, his favorite. I’m hoping that will make him happier, but it doesn’t.

An angry face glares at mine, Did I say I wanted fucking lasagna? There’s a fucking menu on the refrigerator. Why did you deviate from it? Are you trying to piss me off?

No. I wasn’t trying to upset you, Sullivan. Lasagna is your favorite. I was trying to be nice.

He grabs me by the throat, Nice is following my fucking orders. If I want lasagna, I will tell you to fucking make it.

I can’t breathe, I’m gasping for air. I pass out as I’m being dropped to the floor. I wake to him standing over me. I assume I blacked out for only a few minutes.

Get up and get me dinner, he heads to the dining room table. After he’s done eating, I can eat.

Moving upstairs to his office, I feel relieved that he’s out of sight, at least for now.

The following day, April stops by unannounced. I look in the mirror quickly, and my makeup is still intact. Sullivan is at work, which is good because he can’t stand her, which always causes issues. Who am I kidding? He’ll see it on his phone, and he’ll be pissed, anyway. I’ll deal with that later. I’m excited to see my friend. Letting her in, she pulls me into a hug. I stifle my pain, I don’t want her to know. I can’t tell her. I know I probably should, but I still can’t. I’m so ashamed.

We sat outside on the patio having a mimosa.

Staring down at my hands, I ask, What’s worse physical, mental, or psychological abuse?

She gasps, Has he hurt you?

I shake my head, No, one of my employees is going through it.

She glances over at me, Whatever the abuse you’re going through is the worst. No abuse is easier to endure. It’s all horrendous.

She takes my hand, We’re sure this is your employee and not you, right?

I nod.

She laughs, I can always buy a pig.

That’s our little joke. A pig to consume the body. She’s not violent, although I’m not honestly sure what she would do if she knew.

So, when are you….

I shush her and move my eyes towards the ceiling. I hope Sullivan didn’t hear her.

She forms an O with her mouth. Instantaneously, she realizes he has no clue that I’m planning to leave. I’m believing that April is probably questioning if it’s my employee. As she gets up to walk through the house to get to the front door, I see her surveying the number of cameras she crosses by, it’s staggering. There are nine on the first floor, plus the ones outside. This is not someone that’s simply concerned about security. Of course, I know they are here, so he can watch me and see what I’m doing at all times. This is my life, except not for long, I tell myself. I hug my friend, and she’s gone.

Chapter two

Today is the day, I ponder, I hope. Leaving him has been a dream for so long, of course, he has no clue that I’m even considering such a thing. I’m standing in our vast bathroom, covering the latest bruise on my left cheek. Thank goodness for the foundation. There’s no door in the bathroom anymore. There are no doors in any of the rooms in this house. To prevent receiving the beatings, I used to run into a room and lock it. He figured the way to stop that was to remove all the doors.

You don’t work for three hours, where the hell are you going?

I freeze, terrified to answer. I manage, I have a doctor’s appointment, Sullivan.

He hits me across the face with his open hand. He pulls my brown hair and forces my hazel eyes to stare up at him.

Are you sick? You don’t look sick?

No, I’m not sick. It’s a yearly checkup, pap smear.

His eyes are the angriest green I’ve ever seen. This man hates me.

You better not be lying.

He lets go of me as I fight the tears threatening to run down my face. Sullivan terrifies me, and he has come close to killing me more than once.

I am not lying, I have a doctor’s appointment.

He walks past me to get in the shower, and I run out to my car to escape his anger.

I get into my dark blue Mazda Miata. I bought her as a present for myself when I opened my advertising firm. She’s tiny but peppy. I take a right to merge onto the I15 towards Las Vegas. The traffic is heavy today, I should still make it.

My mind keeps going to my emotional, dark place. While I had dated other men, I had never had sex with them. I was a virgin until our wedding night. He held me down while he ripped my virginity from me. I cried. It was the moment I realized I had made a horrible mistake. No loving husband would take his wife’s virginity in that manner. We went to Colorado for our honeymoon, as Sullivan is an avid and accomplished skier. He broke my arm while we were there during an altercation. I remember the trip even though it was ten years ago.

You will tell everyone it was a skiing accident because you’re so clumsy.

I nodded, Of course I will.

We were in the hotel room, our honeymoon suite. Sullivan was angry because I didn’t have on the lingerie, he laid out for me. I didn’t know then that this would become the expectation.

Why aren’t you wearing what I put out for you?

I didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to?

No.

As soon as I noticed the pure hatred in his eyes I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. I’m sobbing and begging him to not hurt me. My pleas fell on deaf ears. He doesn’t care.

Come out now and I’ll go easier on you. Make me wait and you’ll wish you were fucking dead.

Hesitantly, I opened the door to face the music because I couldn’t stay in there forever. I may as well simply get this over with.

Good girl.

For being such a good girl, I get the reward of three hits to the face. After he pushed me to the ground he laughed as I cried out in pain. My arm hurts, I can’t move it. He grabs me by my hurt arm, my left one and pulls me to a standing position as I scream. Pulling me to the bedroom area he pushed me forward on the bed and pulled up my skirt. He proceeds to have sex with me while I sob.

You are my fucking wife. I can do what I want to you. Do you understand that?

I cry, Yes, it’s muffled as he pushes my face into the mattress. I’m pretty sure he’s going to kill me, yet somehow, I survived. It’s just the first of many times those thoughts ran through my mind.

I’m not known to be graceful, so it was believable that it was a skiing accident. Even my best friend, April, didn’t question it. Over the last ten years, I’ve become adept at covering up my multiple bruises. To make matters worse, I had many broken bones through the years, and my best friends and family made fun of me. Of course, they thought they were all accidents caused by me, not Sullivan. It wasn’t easy to endure.

I considered leaving him after we returned home from Colorado, and I said I was going to the grocery store and planned to keep driving. I thought maybe when we settled into everyday routines it would get better. They only got worse. It mainly started with slaps and moved to punches and kicks. We had sex the first two years and then suddenly none. I don’t mind the lack of sex, as it was always violent. Sullivan typically pushed my face into the mattress so violently that I thought I would die.

As I look back, there were red flags everywhere. I ignored them all. Why? I simply don’t know, maybe because I was so young? Was it the difficulties of my childhood? I push all the negativity from my mind. Today I will be stronger. I’m making a choice. There’s no need to dwell on how long it took me to gain the strength to leave this mess. I’m doing it now, and that’s all that matters. He will never have the chance to strike me again.

It’s a hot summer day here in Las Vegas. The meteorologist says it will break one hundred ten degrees. It’s nine a.m., and it’s already ninety degrees, so I don’t doubt him today. Pulling in, I’m nervous. I park my car in the massive parking garage reserved for the many offices in the building for Martin Behavioral Center. I check my makeup in my mirror before I get out of my car. Thankfully, my foundation covered the bruises. Last night was a tough night. My husband, Sullivan, gets furious, even though I’m not sure why. It can be dinner not being ready on time, not doing the dishes quick enough, talking back, really anything. I need to clear my head of him right now. I need to get to my appointment with Dr. Martin, a psychiatrist recommended by my lawyer friend, April. Yes, today is the day—no more abuse. I am leaving my husband.

I grab the book I’ve been reading. It’s an erotic romance novel. April said it’s a must-read. I head to the elevator. I press number eight. I’m glad it’s not a glass elevator because I’m terrified of heights. A man comes into the elevator before the doors close. I hold it open for him. I feel uncomfortable. He’s far too beautiful to exist in this world. He appears to be six-twoish, with dark brown hair, closely groomed stubble, and the bluest eyes I think I’ve seen. They are striking. His body is fit and perfect. I’m fit, but not like him. I look up at him and my God. His heated gaze bolts me into place while flushing my skin. My heart races as I stare into his stunning eyes.

He stands there smiling, looking gorgeous, in his purple dress shirt, purple vest, black dress pants, while his suit jacket is hanging over his muscular arm. I look down because I can’t take the heat, I can feel him staring at me. I’m holding my erotic novel. NO! I blush crimson red. I can feel it. I flip the book over, so all he can see is the back cover. He displays a hint of a smile across his lips. He noticed the book cover and knows it’s an erotic romance novel. I’m so embarrassed my skin flushes many shades of red, I am sure. The smile on his face tells me he enjoys it while I do not. Finally, my torture seems to be coming to an end.

After what seems like the longest elevator ride in history, the doors open. I go as quickly as possible without running. Trying to be polite, he moves to hold the door open for me, and I brush right up against him. I stare into Mr. Beautiful’s eyes, Sorry, thank you. He smiles as if he knows something I don’t know.

As I walk to the front desk, I glance around the room. The walls are a beautiful light blue color. Pictures hang on the wall, reminding us of the importance of positivity. Gag! I hand my insurance card to the lady at the front desk. Her name tag says, Belinda. She’s attractive, has short brown hair, green eyes, and is delicate. Seemingly, she’s as friendly as she is pretty. She instructs me to take a seat in the waiting area, so I do.

Opening my book, I read. I don’t even make it through a chapter when the receptionist, Belinda, asks me to follow her. I close my book, get up, and follow her down a long hallway with many rooms.

She takes me to room six and smiles,

Have a seat. Dr. Martin will be with you shortly.

There’s a massive navy blue sofa to my left when I walk through the door. It looks like a chesterfield although far more modern. It appears to be tufted velvet with double rows of what appear to be platinum metals. There’s a matching chair in front of it, and a black coffee table adorned with beautiful gardenias. Behind the chair sits Dr. Martin’s desk. It’s an enormous desk, also black. I sit on the sofa and put my book on the table, backside up. I should’ve brought my Coach bag today so I could’ve concealed the book. So many thoughts are running through my head right now.

As I wait, I think of the man in the elevator. I’ve never looked at another man before. Well, not like that anyway. It’s strange, I married ten years ago, we haven’t had sex for eight, still I’ve always remained faithful. He gets his pleasure from my pain. It’s been so long, my sexual appetite has become dormant. I don’t miss it. Until today anyway. It’s got to be the book. That’s why I’m thinking about sex. The door opens and interrupts my train of thought.

I look up, it’s HIM! The beautiful man from the elevator is Dr. Martin! Oh Shit! He looks at me like he sees right through to my soul and knows everything I’ve been thinking about. A knowing grin appears on his face. Sitting in the blue chair across from me, I feel instantly flushed.

Hello, I’m Dr. Martin. You must be Mrs. Grant?

Please, call me Scarlet.

Very well, Scarlet.

The way my name sounds rolling off his tongue is seducing.

Dr. Martin asks, What’s been going on?

I look down at my silver sparkling nails and focus my eyes there.

I’m leaving my husband.

He asks what I assume are routine questions, How long ago did you marry? Why are you unhappy? Do you have children? etc.

I tell him the truth, mainly. "No, we don’t have any children. Today is our tenth wedding anniversary. While we had an active sex life in the first few years of our marriage, he hasn’t touched me sexually in years. It’s a loveless marriage.

He asks, Do you sleep in the same bed?

I inform him that yes, we do, however, we sleep as far apart as possible.

Do you feel safe?

Well, he beats the shit out of me, so I don’t feel safe. I can’t tell him that, although I want to. I want to pour my heart out to this strange man. I can’t talk to someone like him about this. What would he think of me? Disgust, I’m sure. I don’t believe I could handle that vision. Viewing disgust in those beautiful eyes. That’s how I feel about myself. How can you allow someone to treat you like this? My dark place welcomes me again.

Yes.

Yes, you feel safe? he asks.

Yes, I feel safe.

I feel ashamed of myself for lying to him, I simply can’t tell him. It’s strange because he’s charming, and I feel like I could say almost anything to him, almost. Suddenly, rather unwelcoming tears run down my face.

In a demanding voice, Dr. Martin says, Scarlet, look at me.

I cast my eyes up, it’s the same feeling from the elevator. His eyes show heat, uncomfortable heat. He gets up from his chair and sits beside me on the couch. He puts his hand on my leg. Staring into his eyes I feel weak and confused. If I’m honest with myself I want this man.

Holy hell! What’s happening? I feel a surge of something that feels like a current directly between my legs. He feels it, too. I noticed it. Does he touch all his patients? I glance at him, and he’s staring at me with burning eyes as if he wants to do a lot more than put his hand on my leg. He removes his hand. NO, PUT IT BACK.

I look up at him and say, I’m sorry. I’m mostly sorry that he’s no longer touching me.

Dr. Martin responds, "Leaving a marriage is a complex decision and not to