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“I'll go with you,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “No, stay here. Enjoy yourself.”
“You're the only reason I came out here, stupid,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. “You promised me a weekend of incredible food and even more incredible sex.”
He gives me a tight grin, obviously not in the mood to have his spirits lifted at the moment.
“What happened, Aaron?”
“Somebody broke into my condo,” he growls. “Vandalized the fuck out of it apparently. Tried to burn it down.”
“Oh God, Aaron,” I exclaim. “Do they have a suspect in custody or anything?”
He shakes his head. “No, but based on what was described to me, I'm pretty sure I know who it is.”
A yawning pit opens in my stomach as my heart starts to thump against my breast. I say a silent word, hoping against all hope that the next words to come out of his mouth aren't the ones I'm expecting to hear. But a grim resignation takes hold within me. I am absolutely certain that no matter how many words of hope I utter, silent or otherwise, that I know exactly what Aaron is about to say.
“Who do you think it is, Aaron?”
“Robert,” he says flatly. “Can't be anybody else.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” he replies.
“But how?”
He stops moving and gives me a long, even look. The anger in his body is palpable. It's crackling off of him like an electrical current. His face is so dark and twisted with rage, he looks like a completely different person. Like somebody I don't even know. I know it's not directed at me – not that it chills me to the bone any less.
“He left me a message,” Aaron grunts.
Knowing exactly why this has happened, I can't help but feel responsible. Intellectually, I know it's not my fault, but emotionally, I can't help but think it is. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring Aaron in the eye.
“I'm coming with you,” I tell him, my tone leaving no room to argue.
He looks at me for a moment, obviously seeing the resolve in my eyes. He gives me a small nod and then goes back to gathering his things.
“I'll call my driver and have him take you back to the MGM Grand. Get your stuff together, and be ready when I call,” he responds. “Pilot is on standby. Wheels up in an hour.”
Chapter Thirty
Emily
I'm not sure there's anything in his condo that isn't broken. Flat-screen TVs have been shattered, art on the walls destroyed, couches cut to ribbons – whoever got in here had nothing but hatred and destruction on their mind. The far wall of the living room is blackened and scorched – he'd obviously tried to start a fire and failed. I see puddles of water on the ground and figure that automatic sprinklers must have kicked on and put it out before it got out of control.
Maybe that's why the rest of the place is so thrashed. Maybe his failure to burn the place down had enraged him to the point that he laid waste to everything else in his path.
There are cops still buzzing through the place collecting evidence or doing whatever it is they do. As I make my way toward to back rooms, glass and other debris crunch beneath my feet. I feel more and more terrible with each and every step.
This is my fault. This is entirely my fault.
I walk into Aaron's master bedroom and see him standing amid the wreckage, staring at the tall, blood-red letters that had been spray painted on his wall. The message was loud and clear –Stay Away From Her– and could have only come from one person on this planet. Robert.
“He must have been at this for hours,” Aaron remarks as I step up beside him. “I mean, it must have taken quite a bit of time to destroy practically everything I own.”
I turn to him and take his hand in mine. “Aaron, I am so, so sorry,” I apologize, my voice barely more than a whisper. “This is my fault and –”
He turns to me, taking my face in his hands. “This is not your fault, Emily,” he states, his eyes boring into mine. “This is in no way, shape, or form your fault. This is all on that psycho fuck. And I assure you, he is going to pay for this.”
