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“Don’t. Lie.” His is hard. Insistent. Why now? Why does he want me to know what happened now? He keeps things from me all the time.
I don’t dare breathe while they look at each other. The space between them seems like too much. Like they’re sitting apart because all they want to do is collapse into each other.
Haley takes a deep breath and looks back at me. “It’s complicated,” she says. “Nobody hit me. But it was still—” For a split second, her eyes go wide, as if she can’t stand to remember. It wasn’t that long ago the two of us were sitting in this den, talking. This was the look on her face when she thought I wanted her to tell me about the day Leo was shot. Now, she shakes her head and tries to smile. She can’t.
“I’m sorry.” Tears come to my eyes. Honestly, why? Why are people so terrible? “I’m sorry, Haley. I don’t—I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what to say. Every woman grows up knowing that her life could be in danger at any time. All of us. We all know that, even if we have protective older brothers who do their best to keep us out of harm’s way. It’s still a shock when it happens.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
“It’s not,” Leo says. “That’s why you’re here.” I meet my brother’s eyes and find fury there. “It’s not safe for you. For any of us.”
“I’m perfectly safe,” I hear myself argue. My face heats. Is this how he brings up Emerson, then? “Nobody’s messing with me. Nobody even really knows I’m a Morelli, because I’m not—”Not like you.That’s what I’m going to say. I don’t, though it’s true. People know Leo. Nobody knows me. “I’m not open about it. Nobody’s even been in my apartment, except—”
Shit.
Leo’s eyes narrow. He sits up and folds his arms over his chest.
And waits.
There’s no waiting him out. He’s the king of frosty silences, which is why I think it’s absolutely ridiculous that our father never caught on to what he was doing all those years. If Leo smashed a vase or put a book through a window, it was because he meant to cause a scene. He wanted Dad to look in his direction, and it always worked. I’m never going to out-silence him. It’s not a contest I want to win.
I let out a sigh. “Except for one person.”
“Except for one man.” My cheeks burn. Leo nods. He saw. No hiding it now.
“Nothing happened,” I insist, and let go of Haley’s hand.
“Bullshit. Explain.”
I bite my lip. Pull my hair back over my shoulder. I glance over at Haley, but she doesn’t seem judgmental. She’s got her thumbnail on the cover of her book again. There’s no good way to do this, so I’ll get as close to the incident as I can. No need to mention the gallery or how he parked outside this morning.
“I wasn’t even there. He just left something for me. A gift.”
A gift that was previously worth millions of dollars. Destroyed with black spray paint. All because I said I didn’t like the painting. In reality, I hated that painting. I’ve always hated it. Lehmann was a piece of shit, and nobody should care that he was good at painting the ocean. Emerson’s the only person who’s ever done anything about it.
My face has to be so red. So is Leo’s. He’s pale from being shot and being sick, so it’s obvious as soon as it starts. I knew it would be bad. This is worse. He’s so upset that he’s working overtime to hide it. That’s what people don’t understand. It’s always the worst when it’s quiet. A scene from Leo always serves another purpose, but if he tries to keep himself in check, then he really is angry.
“You have a fucking stalker.” His voice is even. Light. We could be at dinner at our parents’. It scares me to death.
“No! No.” I can’t stop myself from grabbing at my collar. I need something to hang on to. “He just—he likes my paintings. He buys a lot of them. You know. Like a collector.”
“He wants to collect your body in his basement, Daphne. He doesn’t want your paintings. Men don’t want your art. They’re all sick fucks who want to use you for their own purposes. They’ll discard you when they’re finished, if they haven’t murdered you first.”
I lift my chin. Men might be terrible as a whole, but Emerson isn’t. He’s not. An old defensive anger presses at my lungs. “Oh? Like you’re going to do to Haley?”
“No,” Leo snaps. I flinch at how harsh it is, how mean it sounds, and it doesn’t help that I feel like an asshole. For suggesting it to him. For still being pissed off. “Not like me with Haley.”
Haley lets out a breath. This can’t be comfortable to watch. I’m not comfortable, and neither is Leo, and she’s sitting in the middle of what feels like a very old fight. Leo thinks I’m not old enough to be a good judge of men. Maybe I’m not, but I haven’t had much of a chance. I could have taken chances, like Sophia, but it would worry him and I don’t want him to worry, I want—I don’t know what I want.
“He’s not dangerous,” I tell Leo.
“That’s. Fucking. It.” He stands up and goes to the door of the den. Throws it open. Gerard’s waiting there. Guarding the door, it looks like. “Send a team to Daphne’s apartment. Clear it out.”
Oh my god. He’s not serious. I came here for one conversation. I didn’t come here for everything to be turned upside down. Leo turns around and finds me staring at him. Raises his eyebrows. He comes to stand in front of the couch, in the middle of the den.
“What did you tell him to do?” I’m asking because he can still stop all this, if he wants. He can.
