Page 92 of Graciously His

“Why is the safe phrase so triggering for you, Nate? What can we do to fix it?”

He meets my eyes, his own glistening, and I wonder how many times we’ll make each other cry before we’re satisfied.

“We,” he growls, “are done here.”

“No.” I drop the towel, feeling myself redden at my own boldness. “We’re not done. Not even—”

He takes a long step forward, looming over me with such heat in his eyes that I shut up.

“If you remove the power of that safe phrase, nothing will keep you safe from me ever again.”

“We can just choose another phrase. Maybe a colour this time.” I look away, considering for a moment. “Red would work. Or—even better—orange. Orange is my new safe word. There. It’s done.”

There’s so much concentrated menace in his eyes that I stumble back. Mother’s cloying voice presses around me like her suffocating perfume, reminding me that this is, in fact, the man who tricked me into marriage and seduced me into staying. Even if I don’t trust what Mother told me, Nate’s possession reeks of dishonesty. I need to know how far down that dishonesty goes, whether it’s beneath the foundations of our relationship—or even deeper.

“If,” he says, considering me slowly, “you change out your original safe phrase, it’s because you’re going to say it—and mean it—in its true context. So let’s hear it, Grace. Say ‘I love you, Nate’. Right now.”

Oh God…

I realise what I’ve stepped into. This isn’t about Mother. Or Auckland. Not anymore.

I bend down to get the towel, which has soaked up some of the water puddling around our feet. Nate grips the back of my neck, stopping me. I’m naked and he’s clothed and, suddenly, I’m scared.

“Nate,” I pull against his grip, trying to bend down again, “you can’t ask me to say something like that. Just… ‘orange’ is my new safeword. That’s the end of it.”

“It’s like cyber security protocol.” His other hand slides to my throat, forcing me upright. The wet towel slaps to the floor. “If you want to swap one password for another, you need to tell me that first one. Properly.”

I’m light-headed, my skin damp, my mouth dry.

“I’ll say it,” I whisper, my tongue heavy, “after you take me with you tomorrow.”

His eyes glitter. “What did your mother say to you on the phone, Graciously?”

My feet slide on the tiles as my joints give out all at once—ankles, knees, hips—but Nate catches me. He guides me to the floor until we’re both kneeling, his hands steadying me. He’s staring. Waiting. Totally unrepentant for bringing me down. I feel as if my heart has dropped into my stomach, where it’s beating hard to be let out. I’m trying not to cry.

“Sh-she said I—I’m not safe with you.”

“What else, Grace?”

“That you—” I force myself to say it, “that you k-killed Nick.”

Watching his reaction, I know I’ve done it; I’ve given him enough that he won’t question me further. Nate shakes his head, his lip curled into a satisfied sneer.

“She really is a desperate old witch, isn’t she?”

His tone is dismissive, his expression, smug. I nod to pretend agreement, relief making me feel light-headed in a different way. I’m shivering in the water on the floor. It has gone cold. I make to stand up, but Nate holds me there on the tiles, his eyes flat once more.

“Did her spell work on you, Grace? Do you think you married the fratricidal twin?”

“No!”

“No,” he agrees, his smirk turning into a smile. “You’re smarter than that. Now, there’s just one more thing for you to say before we move on to your apology.”

My throat feels as if it might close up. “Will you take me to Auckland?”

“Yes, you’ve bought yourself a ticket to Auckland by telling me the truth. Now you’re going to agree to what I want: You’ll come to the office tomorrow. You’ll be my pretty, perfect wife. You’ll call me Daddy if I tell you to. And when I tell you I love you, Grace, you’ll fucking answer me the way I want you to.”

“I’m c-cold,” I whisper. “Can’t we go to the bedroom and discuss—”