Page 39 of Return to the Island

“She lied.”

“Abby said you have needs and only she can fulfill them.” At this his lips curled, sinister and pursed.

“Abby said, Abby said,” he mocked. “What else did Abby say?”

“She told me about Branson.”

The world spun for a moment. I sensed the movement of the clouds outside the window. The rough bow of the trees in the wind. Tack standing before me, saying nothing.

“She said he was a private investigator looking for me.”

Tack sat back on the edge of his desk, his hands curling around the lip, his knuckles turning white with the pressure.

“She said you want The Mouse Trap?” I questioned, my voice cracking. “Why would you want my business?” I swallowed the choking lump in my throat. “It’s all I have, Tack. It’s all I have.”

Marco barged into the room but neither of us moved.

“Boss, I’m sorry to interrupt, but they’re saying it’s a hurricane. We need to make a decision.”

“Evacuate,” Tack ordered, not moving his hands or blinking an eye.

“Sir,” Marco replied, standing behind me.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Tack said, his voice coming through clenched teeth.

The door clicked behind me again and I crossed my arms, waiting for an explanation.

“There is no donation, is there?”

“You want the money?” he inquired, looking up at me with eyes edged in black. “Take the damn money. Take all of it.”

“I didn’t want the money, and you know that. I only wanted you,” I snapped. The truth startled us both.

“And I wanted to be all you had,” he added, but the sound of his voice was too controlled, as if he were forcing the words from his mouth.

“Was this all a ruse?”

“It was a way to get you down here, yes. I didn’t want to take The Mouse Trap. I wanted to give you everything. I wanted to make it everything you wanted.” He paused, his eyes drifting up to mine. “And I wanted to finish what we started.”

My eyes blinked, burning as they filled with sorrow.

“What we started when?”

“You know when.” Something about the glare in his eyes bothered me. My mind flipped to that night. He wanted to own me—mind, body and soul. And now business. He wanted all of it. Control. Power. He said he liked to break things to conform to him. Hadn’t I already? Hadn’t I given him everything from me? Forgiveness. Love. Redemption.

“Blink,” I said.

“What?” His eyes widened, his hands still gripping the desk as he leaned forward.

“My safe word. Blink.”

“It doesn’t work like that. It only works when…” Dawning came slowly. “When you no longer feel safe,” he added, his voice low and shaky.

“You don’t feel safe with me?” he asked, his tone jumping an octave. “You don’t trust me? I had a hundred ways I could have taken advantage of you, but I wanted you to give them to me. One at a fucking time.” His palm slapped on his deck making me flinch. “I trusted you to give me permission.” He beat at his chest. “I believed in you because you said you loved me.”

“I…” my mouth fell open but my heart raced behind my ribs. He looked wild and broken and my heart bled for him.

“You know what, you should go. Not only from the hurricane, but if you don’t feel safe with me, leave.” His words sharp, his head turned away from me, his cheek presented as if I’d slapped him. I’d done it before. He let me fuck him silly that night. He let me control him, giving me the power, because he trusted me to never hurt him.