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Chapter Twenty-Seven
I groaned and rolled onto my side. Something wet was laid across my forehead, cooling my skin. It felt good. I wanted it to stay there. My eyes blinked open, the bright light causing me to squint. Everything was a blur, shapes, and colors all seemed to smear together in a dirty looking rainbow. My head hurt, really bad, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“Don’t sit up,” Peter said, his voice nearby.
Then it hit me, the smell, the memories, the shame all flooding over me at once. I held my hand to my mouth to stop the vomit from spilling out over the floor.
“Shit,” he cursed. “Here.”
A glass bowl was shoved in front of my face and I quickly grabbed it, half my body hanging over the edge of the couch as I emptied the contents of my stomach into what looked like a fancy crystal fruit bowl.
Slowly, I forced my body into a sitting position, placing the bowl between my legs and hanging my head over it. A hand swept through my hair, pulling it back and out of my face. It sent a chill down my spine, and I slapped it away. My eyes narrowed on him as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I told him, my voice shaking.
I wasn’t exactly scared of Peter, but he did hold power. He knew things about me, had evidence of the shit that I’d done. He held power that he could use against the club, to make them look bad. What he didn’t have, was a fucking moral compass. That was dangerous when it was mixed with his need to be on top and the connections he held within his pockets.
How many people had he blackmailed to get this drug on the market?
Deacon had said that he had no idea how it had been approved by the FDA. Probably because they were paid to shut up, or they were replaced with people who were easier to manipulate.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said finally when he just stared at me across the couch.
“I forgive you,” he answered, his face softening. “I need you to know that I forgive you for running and that even though you hurt me, I’m willing to move on.”
I thought my brain was going to explode at that moment. What the hell was he talking about, forgiving me? And moving on?
I placed the bowl on the floor and stood up, my body wavering for a moment before I found my balance. I must have passed out. The emotions and memories becoming too much to handle, so my body had just shut down to try and protect me. Even though it had, I could feel my hands shaking, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the shadows had begun to sneak in. I needed to fight back, and I needed to do it now before I broke down.
“You forgive me?” I asked, shaking my head and taking a step back when he stood to his feet. Peter wasn’t little, he was tall, and while he wasn’t muscular like Wrench, he was still heavily built, enough to be intimidating. “What about all the pain you putmethrough? Because I don’t forgive you.”
His brows pull together in the middle. “I was helping you. You think it was easy for me to see you have those attacks and watch you break down. You think I enjoyed watching someone I cared about in so much anguish and pain?”
“You used me to test out that drug. You got me addicted to those damn pills,” I cried out, tears brimming my eyes. The shadows were coming, but I was trying my best to force them back. I needed to, I couldn’t risk what would happen if I broke down right now, here with him.
He took a threatening step forward. “They made you better. You begged me for them, and I couldn’t tell you no. They helped you.”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, it didn’t even make any fucking sense. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?” I snapped, rubbing at my chest with the palm of my hand, trying to keep the blood pumping and keep myself alert. Peter sounded delusional like he actually believed that what he had done had helped me like he hadn’t completely destroyed me and turned me into a zombie.
His face softened. “I was helping you to be normal… to feel normal. And I had to prove to those people that this drug… it worked. They needed to see it. People like that, they don’t understand what it’s like for people like us to get through the day, to fight to keep our social standing when everyone is expecting us to fall.”
I pulled back, the fact that he was justifying the way he used me almost made me reach for the vomit bowl again. He shook his head, coming toward me with his hand outstretched, it reached for my face, but I ducked out of the way and headed for the door, desperate for air, scared of being trapped in this room with him and having it cave in around me.
Keep fighting, damn it.
His hand grabbed my arm, pulling it hard and twisting my body, slamming me up against the wall. The loud thump caused the pictures on the wall to rattle, neither of us moving an inch until the sound ceased.
His breath fanned against my face as he stood over me, his harsh features now becoming fierce and unforgiving. “You made me look like a fool,” he spat. “After everything I did for you, you ran off with another man’s baby.”
I gasped, I didn’t think he knew.
“You think I’m stupid? You think I couldn’t figure out the times and dates didn’t match up. I thought by marrying you that it would prove my commitment. Show you that I didn’t care and would accept you and the kid anyway, but all you did was throw it in my fucking face,” he roared, and I squashed myself back against the wall, hoping by some miracle that I could sink back inside it.
He reached inside his suit jacket, and I struggled to breathe as he pulled out the gun he had used earlier. My knees were weak, and I was fighting a losing battle as I tried to stop myself from crumbling to the ground.
“I’m a businessman, Annabelle. People look up to me. They see greatness, and yet you are my weakness. A man like me can’t have a weakness.” He tapped the gun against the wall beside my head. “You are either with me… or right now is where I break our connection forever. I won’t let you bring me down again, won’t let you make me look stupid.” He twisted the gun so the barrel was pressed against my temple and tears began to fall down my cheeks.
Peter had lost it. There was no getting through to him, no reasoning with him. Maybe I had driven him over the edge? He had seemed so respectful and genuine to begin with, always a gentleman and forever reminding me that he would be there for me despite my condition.
