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She looks at the chair, or rather at the way my hands squeeze the back of it. “Okay. Thank you.” It comes out as little more than a squeak, and within moments, I’m alone.
The chair splinters when I pick it up and throw it to the floor. “Fuck!” I scream at the empty apartment.
Scissors. I don’t know where she got them. I only know she was hiding them. For what? To use on whom? Not on me—she has to know better than to try it, even while I’m asleep. I haven’t had a night of deep sleep in as long as I can remember. She could try, but she’d end up with those fuckers buried in her instead.
On Aspen?
And they were here, in my apartment, for who knows how long. I completely missed it. She could’ve carried them with her in the halls and stabbed Aspen.
Lauren’s voice rings out in my head, barely rising over the chaos. Are you making this up to be angry with her? How do you know they weren’t meant for self-defense?
I’m sure if I were to ask, that would be the excuse she’d give. That’s why I’m not going to bother asking. I’m going to show them to her before…
What? What am I going to do?
I can see myself holding them to her throat. Watching up close as her eyes bulge, then fill with tears. As the color drains from her face. As she struggles to stop trembling for fear of driving the blades into her own flesh by mistake.
Is this what Lauren meant about using her as an excuse to let my darker side out to play? Why am I bothering to ask myself? Of course, it is. And it’s damn tempting. Making her hurt. Feeling her tears hit my skin. The look in her eye when she understands her life belongs to me.
I don’t want to be that man anymore. Right? I’m not sure now. Not when the evidence of her lies and schemes is in front of me.
She’ll be back any minute. I have to make a decision. Do I confront her? I can’t avoid it, nor do I want to. It would be irresponsible to let her go on thinking she’s got me fooled. I have to put an end to this.
I close my hand around the cool metal. How will she react when she sees me holding them? I want to savor her fear, the moment of realization when she knows she’s been bested.
She’s here. My heart thunders in my chest, adrenaline racing through my veins.
I clutch the metal handle tighter.
The knob turns.
I raise the scissors, so they’ll catch her eye immediately.
The door begins to open slowly, and it feels like I’m a child waiting for Christmas morning. One second passes, then another. I expect the metal gleam of the scissors to catch her eye first, but it doesn’t.
“What happened?” Delilah’s eyes are wide as she takes in the sight of the broken chair. She closes the door slowly while staring at what’s left of the chair on the floor.
Somehow, I manage to keep my voice even. “I knocked it over. Walking around while reading something on my phone.”
Her gaze finally lifts from the floor, and I can see the moment that she realizes she’s been caught.
Fear trickles into her features, her hazel eyes are glued on the scissors, and I can imagine the thoughts circling her mind. Her cheeks grow flush, and her pupils dilate.
She’s probably trying to come up with an excuse, but there isn’t one. At least not one that she would want to admit to, especially not to me. I know I’m not that man anymore, or at least part of me isn’t him, but I just can’t help myself. The desire to give in to the game of cat and mouse is too much for me.
“I’ll give you one opportunity to explain why these were stuffed between the mattresses in the guest bedroom, and it better be a worthy one.”
Her lips tremble, they fucking tremble, but no words spill from them. I can’t tell if I’m more pissed to find the scissors or that she won’t admit why she took them in the first place.
Before I can think my next step through, she rushes toward the hallway as if she can really escape me. With minimal effort, I meet her at the mouth of the hall and cut her off.
I don’t think I simply react and reach out; my fingers sink deep into her hair as I grab a handful of the locks and pull her into my face. She struggles like a mouse caught in a trap.
Inhaling through my nose to try to calm myself so I don’t snap her neck right this second, I catch a whiff of her scent. Fear, but there’s something else. Man. She smells manly like spice and citrus… like me.
