My hands were balled into fists at my sides, my breath coming fast and shallow in my chest. I already wanted to punch him. Suggesting I get on my knees and straighten up was the last straw.
Bending down, I picked up a shard that had landed nearby. Then, when I found the piece had a sufficiently jagged edge, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think. I just did.
Holding the fragment up in the air, I charged toward him. I lost my towel on the way. I was naked, and I didn’t care. The desire to hurt him was too real, too sharp, as sharp as the ceramic in my hand.
He caught me at my forearm, because he was faster and stronger than I was. He gripped the other as well, jerking it behind my back, drawing me near so that the tips of my breasts brushed against his chest. It didn’t escape me that this was the closest I’d been to having my bare skin against his. Less than a week ago, I would have considered the position a win, would have fallen willingly into him. Would have given him all of me.
Now he wanted all of me, and I wanted him dead.
And he knew it.
But instead of wrenching the weapon away from me, he moved the tip to his throat. Lifting his chin, exposing his neck, he offered himself. “Do it. Right there. The carotid artery is your best shot at a clean kill. Swipe all the way across to get both branches. It takes more strength than you think it will, so be sure to push deep.”
I held my hand still, keeping the point at his skin, and I thought about it. For a second, I really thought about it.
Then, with a sigh that sounded more like a growl, I dropped the shard, letting it fall to the tile floor with a clunk.
“There now, that’s more honest. We both know you don’t have the stomach for murder.” Though it loosened, Edward’s grip on my forearms remained. His thumb traced along the inside of my wrist. Up, down, sending goosebumps across my arm, causing my thighs to vibrate.
“I hate you,” I seethed.
“That doesn’t bother me.”
I wrestled out of his hold and took a step back from him. His eyes perused me, scanning up from my toes to my lips, lingering on the parts of my body that interested him most. He was so fucking arrogant. As if he had a right to look at me that way.
Snatching his discarded shirt, I wrapped it around me. “I wouldn’t get so cocky if I were you. I might not be a murderer right now, but three months on this island is a long time. A lot could change.”
With that, I left him along with the mess I’d made. If he really wanted it cleaned, he could take care of it himself. He wanted me to submit to him, then fine. But if we weren’t beginning until he returned, I had three months to do whatever the hell I wanted, and I planned to do just that.
I hardly slept. Variations of the dream I’d had during my nap days ago played out throughout the night. Sometimes I was being chased, sometimes I was the one chasing, but it was always me and a man. The anonymous man, who wasn’t quite so anonymous anymore. While I could never see his face, I knew in my gut who it was. Who else would I run after?
Who else would make me run?
I gave up hope for sleep around dawn. Then I just lay there waiting, listening for sounds of Edward stirring in the main part of the house.
I finally heard him around eight. After throwing on a sundress and slipping on a pair of flip-flops, I came out to talk to him. A quick look in the hall mirror showed that I looked as bad as I felt—dark circles under my eyes, my face blotchy. I cringed, but the poor appearance would help.
With my arms wrapped around myself and my head bowed, I found him in the living room giving instructions to Mateo regarding his luggage.
“How sweet,” he said when he saw me. “You came to say goodbye.” With a nod, he ushered Mateo out to the jeep.
“Can I see you to the plane?” I asked, demurely.
“No, but you can see me to the door.”
We walked the distance in silence. I could feel the heat of him at my side, but I wouldn’t let it warm me. I stayed cold. I stayed focused.
“I need something,” I said, turning toward him when we reached the door. “I need some reassurance. When this is all done, you'll let me go? We’ll get a divorce and part with no other baggage between us?”
“Yes.” His voice was gentle. Soothing almost.
“You mean that?”
“I do.”
I searched his eyes while he searched mine, looking for a speck of compassion I could prey on. I was nearly sure I saw it—a flash of something kind behind his cool blue eyes.
I stepped closer to him. “And when you come back, in February, and you begin...your thing,” I couldn’t force myself to use his words for what he planned to do to me, “how long will I be here after that?”
“As long as it takes.”
“I need an expiration. Otherwise I could be here forever.”
“Or you could be dead.”
That word again. It could have been devastating to hear so many times. If I weren’t so fucking pissed.
Knowing this was my last chance, I pulled out all the stops. I laid it on thick. “Please, Edward.” I reached out to curl my fingers in his shirt, linen again. Black this time. Fitting for the demon that he was. “I know I was awful to you, that I’m an awful person. I know I deserve whatever you have planned for me, but you’re better than that. You’re better than me. Please take me with you. I won’t survive three months here. I’ll do what you want. I’ll be the perfect wife, whatever you want, just take me with you.”
The words were staged, but I hadn’t planned the tears. The tears, I was pretty sure, were real.
His hand came up to settle over mine. “Stop, bird,” he said softly. “Stop with the lies.”
He had no heart. He was nothing inside.
How well I knew what that was like.
The tears fell harder, and my grip tightened on his shirt as I grew spiteful. “What's going to stop me from going after you when you let me go? I'll tell everyone what you've done, that you've abducted me and forced me into your sick games. You'll be ruined.”
“You aren't really helping your case here, Celia.”
“There's no way what I'm saying is a revelation. I'm trying to insure that I get out of here alive.” I brought my other fist to meet the one already on his chest, and I wasn’t sure anymore if I wanted to beat him with them or hold him so tightly that he couldn’t possibly leave without dragging me with him.
“You'll get out of here alive. As soon as you're broken down. And when that truly happens, there's no way you'd turn me in to anyone.”
“Oh really.” I tried to drop my hands, but he clasped them both under his, holding them in place. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm. Steady and strong. Calm.
“You seem to not understand what you'll become when you're broken down,” he said, stroking his fingers over my skin. It was a lover’s caress.
He was as good at pretending as I was.
It distracted me, but not enough to not ask the question he was leading me to ask. “What's that?”
He leaned forward, his lips ghosting along my forehead. “Mine.”
Five
As soon as Edward was gone, I began looking for a way to escape.