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The diary ends there,the script trailing off in a scrawl. I press my hand to my mouth, feeling my heart beating uncomfortably hard in my chest. I’d hoped there would be some clarity from this—but there’s nothing. Only more questions. Only more confusion as tohowBria died exactly, and what happened to her son. I’m not even entirely sure how Lucio died. It’s all been shrouded in mystery, covered up, and with every new small clue that I find, I feel more and more terrified that the reason it’s been so thoroughly swept under the rug is because David did something terrible.
If my baby is in danger, I have to do something to protect them. I have to protect us both.
A sudden, hard knocking at the door nearly startles me out of my skin. “Amalie?” David’s voice comes from the other side, and my chest tightens with fear. I close the diary, trying not to sound as terrified as I feel.
“I’m in the bath. I just want to be alone.”
There’s a pause, and then I hear the sound of a key in the lock. A flush of anger replaces the fear for just a moment over David’s utter inconsideration for my desire to be by myself, the arrogance of him thinking he’s welcome in any room at any time, but the fear overcomes it again just as quickly as I hear the knob turn. I sit up, grabbing frantically for my clothes as I shove the diary underneath them just as the door starts to open and David steps inside.
“Are you alright?” He looks at me quizzically, closing the door behind him. His gaze drifts over me, naked in the tub with my knees drawn up to my chest, but there’s not the same lust in them that I’m often accustomed to. He looks almost worried. “Do you always lock yourself in the bathroom?”
“Why do you care?” I snap, and he flinches. His expression hardens, and he leans back against the sink counter, that smooth arrogance replacing the concern I saw a moment before.
“Is it so wrong of me to want to know where my wife is?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I like keeping track of what belongs to me.”
My cheeks flush instantly, and he sees it. Iknowhe does from the way the corner of his mouth tilts up the slightest bit, the hint of a smirk, but he does nothing else. For once, I’m too afraid to feel more than the beginnings of arousal. My heartbeat is fluttering in my throat, the memory of what I just read and all the suspicions it raised far too close.
“You can see I’m fine.” I swallow hard, wanting to sink down into the water and disappear, wishing he would just vanish from the room. “I just wanted a bath.”
“And some wine, I see.” There’s that flicker of disapproval on his face that I expected, and I glare at him.
“Everyone knows a half a glass is fine.” I press my lips together, wishing I could just tell him to leave. But I know that doing that would only make him more inclined to stay.
He lets out a slow breath, as if he’s trying to keep himself from retorting. “I could join you in the bath, if you like.” His gaze slides over me again, and I couldswearI still see that hint of concern. It confuses me more than anything else.
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” The words come out more plaintive than I mean for them to, and I steel myself for him to throw that back into my face, but he just pauses, looking at me with that even, unreadable expression.
“Maybe I wanted to spend some time with my wife. But if you’d prefer to keep the hot water all to yourself, I can stay right here.”
“You never want to spend time with me.” I bite my lip, moving a little further away from him. I’m painfully aware of the diary underneath my clothes, inches from his foot, of my bare and vulnerable flesh in the heated water while he stands there fully clothed. “What—you just want to talk?”
“You were asking about my family.” His voice is tense, and I flinch. “I thought perhaps I’d ask about yours.”
“And I should tell you, when you won’t give me anything about your past?” I glare at him, and David chuckles low in his throat.
“I know what happened with your family, Amalie. Of course, Iknow. I can’t believe you would think otherwise. What I was curious about is how you feel.”
I’m not sure he could have said anything that would have startled me more. I stare at him for a moment, licking my suddenly dry lips. “How Ifeel?”
David lets out a sigh, as if I’m making this far too difficult. “Yes,” he says, a touch impatiently. “How you feel. Your father is dead. Your brother is in Sicily. Have you heard from him?”
I blink, trying not to laugh at the thought of Andre calling me. “No,” I tell him flatly. “I’m not sure Andre remembers he has a sister. He ignored me often enough when we lived in the same house; I doubt he thinks about me in Sicily.”
“So you weren’t close.”
“There’s nothing close about any of my family.” I wrap my arms around my knees, uncomfortable with David’s line of questioning, but the half a glass of wine and the heat has gone a little bit to my head.What if answering his questions makes him answer mine?It’s a foolish thing to think; I have no reason to believe that David wants to do anything other than pry more information out of me that will give him the upper hand. But I see that flicker of concern, of something almost likeinterestin his face again, and it makes me want to answer. “My family has always been very cold.”
“Is that why you ran off to Ibiza?” David smirks a little. “To feelwarm?”
“Cute.” I roll my eyes at him, aware that it could piss him off, but unable to help myself. I’m so often unable to stop myself from reacting to him in ways that could go badly, and I feel another small tremor of fear at the thought of Bria, wondering if she had been the same. Wondering what she might have done to finally tip him over the edge, if that really is what happened. “If you must know, I wanted to lose my virginity in Ibiza to someoneIpicked, before my mother married me off. And I did.” I meet his gaze evenly. “To you.”
David is quiet for a moment. “You’ve really stuck to that story.” He grips the edge of the countertop, looking at me. “I almost want to believe you.”
I shrug. “It’s true.”
He takes a slow breath. “There was blood on the sheets, the morning after. I didn’t know who you were—I thought you were just some co-ed, some trust fund kid. I didn’t think you could possibly be a virgin, especially not whenyouapproachedmein that club. And the way you behaved in bed—”
“Not everyone has to be a shrinking flower on their first night.” I glare at him, biting my lip. “Just because I didn’t cry and beg you to stop—”
