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God, I’m so embarrassed and mad and mortified and furious. The rug is firmly pulled out from under me, and now I’m tumbling along and bouncing over every rock on my way down to the very bottom.
I’ve been such an idiot to trust him.
The Ice King feels nothing. He never did. It’s always been a figment of my imagination and he knew exactly what to tell me in order to keep stringing me along.
I finish my glass of wine and kiss Baby on the cheek.
“I’m worried about you,” she says, frowning. “Are you going to be okay? Do you have a safe place to stay?”
“I’ll go back to Ansell’s, grab my stuff, and head to my apartment.”
“He’ll follow you there.”
“Maybe, but I’ll lock the door. I have good locks.” I laugh, slightly hysterical. “What else can I do?”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so, so sorry. My offer to stay with me stands though.”
“That’s okay. I appreciate it, Baby. You’ve done more than enough for me already and I can’t keep relying on your good will to help me survive.”
She laughs lightly and gives me a quick hug. I settle up my tab and we head outside together. On the sidewalk, facing down the barrel of my immediate future, the horrible, sickening reality of my situation hits me like a hammer.
Ansell’s been lying.
He knows who sent the emails. He knows it was Baptist.
But what does he have to gain from keeping me around like this?
Sick pleasure, that’s what.
I head back to Ansell’s apartment already trying to figure out how I’m going to survive the next few hours.
Chapter 23
Marie
The apartment is big, empty, and ominous.
What struck me as charming and reflective of Ansell’s strange, introverted personality now seems lifeless, cold, and drab. It’s almost serial-killer terrifying, and my heart’s racing as I hurry into the extra bedroom to pack a bag. Everything seems so different now.
How did I miss all these warning signs?
The problem is I saw them and didn’t care. Ansell is a nightmare but he doesn’t try to hide it, and somehow that softens everything. He embraces his strangeness and lives the Ice King persona, and I thought that meant I could trust him.
He is what he says he is.
Except I was wrong.
He’s so much more, and I’m not sure I know him at all.
Half the things in this closet aren’t even mine, but stuff that he bought me since I came to live with him. Ansell’s been indulgent almost to the point of spoiling me, and now all those gifts, all that attention, it’s all soiled and ruined. I don’t want this stuff but it seems like a shame to leave it behind. Maybe I can sell some of it since I’ll be out of a job pretty soon.
The thought of quitting Drake Entertainment is like a gunshot wound on top of a knife wound. Any tiny shred of hope I had for managing Pride one day in the future when all this stuff blows over is utterly destroyed. I’ll never work in this industry again because Ansell’s going to ruin me when I finally confront him.
I don’t know what any of this means or where it’s going. Why would Ansell ruin my relationship with William then get involved with me afterward? It’s like he planned this from the start. Did he step in when I was lonely and vulnerable and give me everything I wanted, say all the right things, act all the right ways, only to suck me into his sick world?
Maybe this is the only way he can feel anything.
Could this all be some elaborate game he plays?
I might not even be the first woman he’s done this to. Maybe not the exact same circumstances—but I can picture him stringing along other poor victims that are charmed by his money and his power and his cold confidence.
He suckered me into caring about him and now I feel like I’m tumbling down into darkness.
I shiver as I toss my bag over my shoulder. I don’t know the truth about what’s going on but I can’t stay here any longer. I have to get out before he comes home. I’m not sure I can face him, not with my head a dizzy mess and a thousand conflicting thoughts pressing through my brain.
I’m afraid of what I’ll say, but even more terrified of what he might do.
There’s a part of me that wants to stay. Some stupid voice is telling me that the Ansell I know couldn’t possibly be involved in those emails, that I’m overreacting, that if I slowed down and just talked to him then everything would be okay.
But this is the Ice King I’m thinking about.
The emotionless robot.
The monster with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.
Looking back, I can see how he hooked me, how he drew me into his world and convinced me that everything would be okay if all I did was obey him and follow his every order. He dragged me along, digging deeper and deeper, until I’m nearly so wrapped up in him that I have no other options.
