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He wrapped his arms around me, holding me until my sobbing stopped.
“I didn’t do this,” he said, his voice quiet in my ear.
I knew he hadn’t done it somehow. There was no blood on his clean white towel. He hadn’t even touched her.
Unless he had killed her before he went into the shower.
I wrenched myself away from him, ran into the bathroom that he had come out of, looking for his clothes, for any signs of blood. And then realised he had come in here naked, his clothes still left behind in the bedroom.
He had followed me. “What are you doing?” he asked from the doorway.
I turned to face him, swallowed hard, aware now of the predicament I was in.
“You didn’t do it?” I said in a trembling voice. “You really didn’t do it?”
His eyes narrowed, his face hard, his dark eyes glinting. “Did you?” he asked me coldly.
“She was myfriend.” My voice cracked at that last word.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialled the police with trembling fingers, and then gasped when he snatched it away.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said.
I tried to take it back from him, but his fist was an iron grip.
“Calling the police! What else? You said you didn’t do it!”
He laughed abruptly, a cynical look on his face. “You think they’re going to believe that?”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be a criminal,” I shot back at him, the mobster, standing there, brutal and so beautiful in just his towel.
He took my chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, and forced my face up to look at him. “Oh, but I am, honey. And now you’re going to do what I say.”
My eyes widened. There was such anger on his face. My mind raced. I felt sick. Did he know who had done this? Did he think I had set him up for this?
“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” I whispered.
“You do now,” he said bluntly. “You’re my alibi. We fucked in the bedroom, came out and found her body together. You got that?”
I stared at him. “Why? If you had nothing to do with this, why would you want me to lie?”
“You really think the police are going to believe that I didn’t do this? They’ll be looking for any excuse to put me away. And I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”
He said it so matter-of-factly.
It hit me like a blow. All that time I’d fancied him, admired him from afar, I’d told myself he couldn’t really be a criminal of the kind people said. And yet he was.
He took me by the wrist as if fully aware that every instinct in my body was screaming at me to flee. Led me into the bedroom, opened up the bedside drawer and took out a small black velvet box. A ring box.
Taking a stunning diamond ring out, as if it was nothing, he shoved it on my finger. My engagement ring finger.
“What the hell are you doing?” I said.
“You’re my fiancée,” he said grimly. “I proposed to you last week. We’ve been keeping it our secret until we were ready to tell people.”
Someone was laughing. Hysterically. It was me.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
