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“Get her out,” he growls, his chest heaving from exertion.
“Leave us,” I whisper, and Tag hesitates. “I’ll be fine,” I reassure him.
“Don’t listen to her. I give the damn orders. Get her out of here,” Anton yells.
I square my shoulders and push through Michael and Tag. “Do not speak to me like that. I’m your wife!” I snap. I hear Tag and Michael retreat from the room.
Anton eventually turns his angry face to me. “I don’t want you here,” he growls.
“You’re not the boss of me,” I say clearly, placing my hands on my hips. He pushes his face into mine, his eyes wide, but instead of anger, I see pain. I tenderly place my hand against his cheek. “I’m not leaving you like this,” I reassure him.
“Do you realise how easy it would be for me to snap your neck right now? I could wipe you out just like that.” He clicks his fingers. “I could lock you under this house, and they’d never find you.”
The only way men like Anton can deal with pain is to turn it to anger, but I refuse to let him intimidate me. “I know,” I whisper, nodding, “but instead of ending me, why don’t we get out of here?”
“You hate me,” he mutters. “Why are you here?”
I take his hand in mine, and he stares down at it. “We can ask questions later. Right now, let’s forget everything else and just be us. Me and you.”
Anton lets me lead him from the room. His hand loosely hangs in mine. Everyone looks up as we pass, but I don’t speak. I’m scared of breaking the silence in case Anton snaps out of this daze he seems to have fallen into.
The early morning air hits us, and I feel him shiver as we continue out the gates and towards the river. It’s too late for partygoers but too early for morning runners, and the silence is deafening.
We walk along the River Thames. The dark, murky water seems calm, and I’m thankful that everywhere seems peaceful. Maybe it’ll help Anton get his head together.
He suddenly stops. I’m slightly ahead, so he jerks me back and then cages me against a wall. We stare at one another. “What do you need?” I whisper.
He runs his thumb over my lips. “To make it stop,” he murmurs, and I see the pain in his eyes again.
I place a gentle kiss against the side of his lips. “I’m so sorry.”
He closes his eyes. “How did she get away with storing her meds like that?”
“She wasn’t well,” I say, pulling him to me and wrapping my arms around him. “You did everything you could.”
“I sent her away,” he mutters into my neck. “She died hating me.”
“Anton, she wasn’t thinking about any of that, I’m sure. She was looking for peace.”
He pulls back slightly. “How do you know?”
I frown. “I don’t. But isn’t that what all people want when they take their own life?”
“She wanted to be with him,” he spits, pushing away from me, the anger returning. “She’d rather be with him than us, her own children.”
“But she isn’t with him,” I say, and he turns back to me. “He’s in hell. She can’t be with him there.”
A strange look passes over his face before he takes a deep breath. “You’re right. They’re not together.”
I smile, holding out my hand. “Exactly.” He takes it, and we walk some more, this time in silence.
We return home an hour later. Anton is more relaxed, although quiet, and I’m relieved when we go inside and the place has been cleaned. Michael steps from the office. “Ella went to bed,” he tells us. “Tag gave her a pill to help her sleep. Do you need anything?”
“No,” snaps Anton, taking me by the hand and pulling me towards the stairs. I allow it, knowing I’ll sneak out once he’s asleep. We get into the bedroom, and Anton shrugs out of his clothes. He stops when he realises I’m removing nothing. “Stay,” he says.
“Just until you’re asleep,” I tell him.
He shakes his head, rounding the bed to where I am. “No, Piper, stay . . . forever.” He begins to pull at my clothing until I’m down to my underwear. “I’m sorry I fucked up so much,” he adds, “and you’ll never hear me apologise, but for once, Iamsorry.” He goes to his wardrobe and pulls out a soft T-shirt, walking back to me and pulling it over my head.
