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Chapter 38
Kal’s sisterlooks like a deer caught in headlights when my voice cuts across the back yard, and I take momentary satisfaction in the fact that it seems I have the advantage of surprise on my side.
Then I glance at Kal, who sits casually in his chair, not even sparing me a look, as if he’s neither impressed nor shocked by my return.
The satisfaction deflates, and anger takes its place, propelling me over the grass until I’m standing just in front of him. Shoving the manila envelope in his face, I put a hand on my hip and ask my question again.
“Kallum. What the fuck is this?”
He looks at the folder, then up at me, those dark eyes strategically devoid of any emotion. “It looks like an envelope, Elena. How the hell should I know what’s in it?”
Scoffing, I unlatch the top and reach inside, shoving the papers in his direction. “Are you trying to say you didn’t have your lawyer serve me annulment papers? Because I’m pretty sure I recognize your signature, given that I saw it the day I signed our marriage license.”
Shifting awkwardly, Kal’s sister widens her eyes, inching away from the concrete. “I think I’d better go...”
Kal nods, waving her off. And when she disappears, leaving us alone, my body buzzes with unending electric energy, zinging through my veins like a hot current. I brighten under his perusal for the first time in weeks.
Like a fucking flower deprived of the sun overnight, my heart opens up for him, seeking nutrients where maybe there are none.
Maybe it was premature of me to fly back here.
No response is still a response, right? Two weeks without hearing from him, and maybe that was his way of ending things.
Annulment papers are definitely a response, but still.
If he wants to end this marriage, the least he can do is tell me to my face.
“You look good,” he says after a couple beats, casually roving his gaze over my form—I feel his appreciation in the tips of my fingers, little sparks of pleasure scattering to the surface.
“Don’t give me that. I don’t want your compliments. Tell me why you’re trying to get rid of me.”
When the papers showed up at Nonna’s apartment, it was a two-for-one sucker punch; proof that Kal did, in fact, know where I was hiding and hadn’t bothered to come see me, but also the added insult of him giving me an out of our marriage.
One that, months ago, I probably would’ve jumped at the chance for.
But a lot can change in a few months.
I sat with it for a while, staring at his signature and the final submission date for filing. The documents cited fraud as the reason, stating that Kal had manipulated me into the union, and that he took full responsibility for the devious nature of how the marriage came to be.
And while all of that’s true, it no longer negates what happened after we married.
The comfort, solace, and acceptance I found in the arms of this killer.
My obsession. My ruin.
My husband.
Steepling his fingers together, he leans back in his chair, blowing out a breath. “I thought it would be what you wanted, little one. Freedom. You’re young, you deserve the chance to experience what life has to offer.”
Slamming the papers down on the glass table, I take a step toward him, jabbing his broad chest with my index finger. “How dare you try to decide that for me. You only present me with one option, after ghosting me completely after the recital, and that’s supposed to be my choice?”
Heat flares to life in his eyes, the brown depths darkening with rage. Pushing to his feet, he grabs my finger, holding it to him. “You ditched me at the fucking ballet, Elena. Nice touch, by the way, leaving that poem. I got your message loud and clear.”
“Oh, the poem where I said I’m in love with you?” I snap, the volume of my voice spiking with my frustration. “If that somehow translated to ‘please file for an annulment,’ then I think you need to go back to studying poetry again.”
“You think so?” As he steps into me, igniting that age-old song and dance our bodies have grown accustomed to over the last few weeks, I feel my core twist and flip at his proximity. His scent envelops me as he backs me up against the table, leaning down to bracket me in with his forearms.
A strand of his inky hair falls over his forehead, and I resist the urge to push it up out of his face, trying to focus on my anger before it slips away, lost in the sea of his touch.
