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“Please, say something,” I beg.
And just like that, the spell is broken. She jerks her head up and meets my eyes. “What would you like me to say,husband?” She spits the word like an insult, making me flinch where no enemies ever could.
“Anything,” I murmur.
“Okay, let’s start with who the fuck you are. You obviously don’t work in security, so what, you kill people?” When I hesitate to answer, she sneers and narrows her gaze on me. “I should have known. I’m so fucking dumb. All this money, the suit, and the cars. The strength I feel in your body, the blood on your clothes, and the scars on your chest, yet I never put it together. Never wanted to,” she rambles before taking a sip of coffee as if to temper her anger.
“Please, don’t blame yourself,” I implore.
“I don’t,” she snarls, pushing to her feet and pressing her hand on the counter, glaring at me. “I blame you. I married you. I brought my sister into your house. I trusted our lives to you. I let you in my body. I . . . I fell in love with you.” Her voice cracks as she finally says the words I’ve been dying to hear since I met her. Love has me stepping toward her, but with the coldness in her eyes, it’s obvious I’m not welcome. “For months we have been living like husband and wife, and yet you are a complete stranger to me. So, Alaric, if that’s even your name, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m still me, still Alaric,” I start, but her eyes narrow into two tight slits.
“You are not. The Alaric I thought I knew wouldn’t kill a man. Wouldn’t snap a man’s neck like it was nothing. I will only ask you once more before I walk out of that door and you will never see me or Zoey again.”
Rubbing my head, I finally sit. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
“No? How did you imagine this going? Oh hi, baby girl, did you have a nice day? Does Zoey need help with her homework? Oh, and by the way, I kill people for a living. How about some pizza for dinner?” She snorts.
“Not like this!” I yell before wincing. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I would have ever told you. I liked that you didn’t know, liked that you didn’t look at me like everyone else, scared and knowing what I am—a killer.” Shaking my head, I frown. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’ll tell you everything.” I meet her eyes. “Which means I need to start at the beginning.”
“Beginning?” she echoes, arching a suspicious brow.
Shit.
“Layla . . . Layla, I was the one who killed your stepfather.”
The statement hangs heavily in the air as she gawks before sitting down heavily. “What?”
“You’re right. I’m a killer, a monster. A professional hit man. I take jobs no one else could or would. I’m the best at it. I’ve taken hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives in my career. I never had a choice, or at least no one ever offered one to me. This is all I know. My father raised me to be like this. Before he retired, he was one himself.” That makes her flinch, and her eyes widen when she realizes the man she so clearly liked and thought was going to be a good family member isn’t who she thinks he is either. “I was taught young and worked hard to become the best at what I do. That day, the day you first came into my life, I was on a job. I think of it as destiny now. As if I were meant to be there, meant to be on that back road that day to see you, to save you.” Licking my lips, I stare into her eyes. “To see you staring down the barrel of a shotgun.”
“Don’t,” she whispers.
“You stood there so bravely, despite the fact he had just killed your brother and mother. You looked at me, and your eyes seared into my soul, and for the first time ever, I wanted to save a life, not take one. So I did. I shot and killed him. I saved you. And I’ve been watching you ever since.” Reaching across for her hand, I implore her to understand, but she jerks her hand back like it’s been burnt.
“I would check in every so often while you were at your aunt’s, but more so when you moved here to the city where I lived, and I couldn’t resist seeing you every day. At first, I told myself it was to ensure you were okay because I felt responsible for you. But the more I watched you, the more I fell in love with you, with the woman who silently, resiliently shouldered all the burdens. You did whatever it took to survive and did it with a smile. I couldn’t stay away. I told myself it would never go further than me watching you and quietly pining over you, but when I saw you stripping” —I grin at the memory— “I knew, I just knew I had to save you one last time. But I promise you, Layla, everything I did was because I cared for you and Zoey. I never expected it to go so far, but you changed everything, and I was helpless as I was swept away in this new world—a world I wish I could truly live in just to be the man you lie next to every night.”
She’s quiet again, digesting all my rambled words.
“So everything . . . Everything was a fucking lie.”
“No, not everything,” I insist.
“No? What was the truth then?” she snarls. “You asking me to marry you? You telling me you worked in security? Letting me meet your father? Calling us a family? Making me believe that you cared for me? Maybe even loved me?” She inhales then, her eyes glassy. “How could I trust anything you ever say or do now?”
“Baby girl—” She flinches at the endearment, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. I was just so fucking terrified of losing you. You were—arethe only good thing in my life. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Even if you don’t believe me now, I swear I do love you, Layla. You’re my fucking heart. My whole world revolves around you. You are at the very center of it. My reason. My love.”
My heart deflates as all my loving words fall on deaf ears. She’s tuning me out, erecting walls around her heart, and refusing to let my love in.
“You know the worst part? I think maybe if you just had told me, I could understand, but the lies? That I can’t handle.” Taking a deep breath, she looks deep into my eyes. “I am thankful to you for saving us that day, and then again with the money for Zoey’s surgery, but I can’t do this. I can’t be married to a stranger. To a murderer. To someone who could so easily kill someone one minute and make love to me the next. How could I possibly feel safe letting a man like you be around Zoey? No, I can’t.”
“Layla, please give me another—”
“No,” she snaps. “I can’t do this. I . . . I want a divorce!” she finally says, slumping as if every ounce of strength has left her body.
Me? I stagger in the chair. My heart stops and my soul turns cold as I stare at her. I was always so worried about losing her, and now I finally have. I was right: a monster like me would never deserve a woman like her.
It was better to have never had her than to feel this immense pain that blooms in my chest until I can barely breathe.
