“I wasn’t expecting you.” Somehow my voice sounded unaffected.
“We have a matter to settle.”
“Do we?” I pulled the towel from my head and began patting dry the still-wet ends. There was nothing to gain from acting flippant, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to be as casual as he was, even if it was all an act.
His blink was heavy and filled with annoyance. “I’d like to get an early start in the morning, but that depends on my agenda for the morning. Have you made a decision?”
He meant it depended on if he had to fit killing his wife into his schedule or not. The pomposity of it made me want to kick something.
I managed to hold my temper. Somewhat. “You haven’t really left me much choice.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then, there’s my answer,” I said, tossing the towel I’d used on my hair to the bed.
“Good. I’m pleased.” He stood and nodded as if to seal the arrangement. “We’ll get started when I get back.”
He was almost out of the room when his words sunk in. “You mean when we get back. To London.” Right?
He paused at the door, turning only his head toward me, one hand bracing the frame. “No, I mean when I get back. From London.” His clarification delivered, he continued out of the room.
The floor felt like it was dropping from beneath me. “No, no, no, hold on.” Gripping the towel around me, I scampered after him. “You can’t possibly be suggesting that you’re going to leave me here.”
“No, I’m not suggesting that. I’m saying that exactly.” He kept walking. Didn’t even look back at me as he spoke.
Though he was still moving, I stopped, shocked. “No way. You can’t leave me here. How can you leave me here?”
“Very easily. I simply get on my plane and don’t allow you to board with me.”
He was all the way through the family room and rounding the kitchen by the time I got my feet to move again. “But I agreed to your stupid plan! I gave you what you want! You can take me with you. You won. I lost. It’s over.”
“It’s not over. It’s just beginning.” Halting, he twisted his body toward me. “And you know why I can’t take you with me.”
The way his eyes looked into me—looked through me, holding me in place—I knew he was a step ahead of me. As always.
“No, actually, I don’t,” I said, refusing to accept it. As always.
With a sigh, he took two steps toward me. “Celia, we need to be beyond these little lies. If you’re really going to submit to letting me break you down, there needs to be honesty between us.”
God, he was so patronizing.
He was right about me and my motives, but that he was so sure he was right was infuriating.
It made me more determined than ever to stick to my story.
“Fine,” I said, readjusting the towel since it had slipped in my pursuit. “If we’re being honest, tell me honestly why I can’t go to London with you.”
His head cocked slightly, his gaze piercing deeper into my skin, into my bones. His expression was a challenge, as if to say, Really? You really want me to spell out why you can’t be trusted?
“Whatever you’re thinking I’ll do, I won’t do it. I promise.” I’d gotten good at being able to lie while making direct eye contact.
“You won’t run away? You won’t try to escape the first opportunity you find? Forgive me for not believing you.” He didn’t give me a chance to refute, turning and walking away once again.
I scurried after him. “What’s the point of honesty if you aren’t going to believe anything I say?”
“Trust is earned. Once you’ve been honest for a significant amount of time, once you’ve proven your honesty over and over, then I will trust you. Until then, you’ll remain here.” He paused inside his room to toe off his shoes, then threw me a brow-raised glance, as if to reprimand me for entering his private quarters without his permission.
I hesitated, waiting to see if his reprimand would go further, but it didn’t. Seeming to decide I wasn’t worth the trouble, he pivoted away from me and crossed to his bed where he removed his watch and set it on the nightstand.
Quickly running through my options, I decided to change my tactic. “How long? How long before you come back?” Maybe he’d be back soon. An extra week on the island wasn’t worth arguing about.
His forehead creased as he considered. “I need to catch up on work for a bit. Then it’s the holidays, which always put things behind. I’ll need some time to catch up from that as well. I should be able to get away again by the end of February.”
“THE END OF FEBRUARY?” I was officially shouting. “You can’t just abandon me here for three months!”
“Can’t I?” The twinkle in his eye, that smirk—this clearly entertained him.
But he hadn’t thought it all through. There was no way he had. “What will people say? My family? How are you going to explain this to my mother and father? If they haven’t heard from me for a while, they’ll at least expect a phone call for Christmas.”
He wasn’t at all fazed.
“I’m sure no one would question why my wife would want to spend the winter in the Caribbean rather than England.” He unbuttoned his shirt as he spoke, his attention only half reserved for me. “As for your parents, I won’t have to explain anything. You’ll explain things just fine.”
“I’ll explain things?” I tried to guess what he meant. “If you think you’re going to get me to lie to them—”
He cut me off sharply. “You seem to have forgotten the information I’ve accessed on your laptop.”
Meaning he had the passwords to my email accounts. He could easily email them as me. He could even look at past correspondence to copy my voice. I could picture what he’d say—I loved Amelie so much I’m staying until spring. The internet doesn’t work so I can’t be reached. I’m only able to send this because I took a day trip to Nassau.
He really did have me trapped. Had me captive in every way possible. And all my scheming, all my calculating was for naught.
Adrenaline coursed through my body as rage took over. All week I’d been a dormant volcano on the brink of turning active, the fire inside me heating up and now I’d reached a boiling point. He wanted me to break? Well, I wanted him to break. I wanted him to hurt.
Quickly, I scanned my surroundings and found a ceramic vase on his dresser top, a piece that was probably some antique worth some ungodly amount.
I didn’t care.
I picked it up and flung it at him as hard as I could.
Of course he saw it coming and ducked out of the way. The vase exploded against the wall behind him, shattering into several pieces.
The gaze Edward pinned on me then was cool and narrow. “Temper, temper, little bird.”
That’s all I was to him. Something insignificant. A bird. A broken bird, at that, because he’d clipped my wings.
“Is this part of it? You’ve already started, haven’t you?” If he meant to break me down, he was on his way to succeeding.
He didn’t answer, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders as he crossed the room to toss it on the chair against the opposite wall. When he turned back to me, he nodded toward the pottery pieces. “I hope you don’t plan on leaving your mess for Sanyjah to clean up.”