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“No, I suppose you did want to be there.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I just told myself it was on account of my—” David waves a hand in the general direction of his groin. “I’m aware that I’m—sizable. I thought it might have just been a bit much for you. You were—incredibly tight.”
His voice sounds a little strangled as he says it, and I see the line of his cock twitch against his fly. I don’t know whether to laugh or be aroused by him telling me that he thought his cock made me bleed the first night, and I press my knuckles against my lips, forcing back any possible laughter. I don’t think he would take it well.
“You can believe whatever you want,” I say finally, when I’ve managed to collect myself. “But I told you the truth. You were my first.”
“And you want me to believe that there was no one after me, either.” His gaze is still holding mine, his fingers curled around the edge of the countertop as he watches me intently. “That none of those men I saw you flirting with made their way into your bed. That even after I dismissed you that first night, didn’t even ask you to stay, you didn’t fuck anyone else.”
I let out a slow breath, feeling my jaw clench. I don’t want to admit this to him, to tell him how good he was, but he’s leaving me no choice. Not if I want to convince him that I’m telling the truth. I feel as if I’m walking a knife’s edge of danger—that if he goes theotherway, if he’s convinced I’ve lied, that I might truly be in harm’s way.
“You made it hard towantanyone else, alright?” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. “I didn’t want to tell you any of this, because you’re already too fucking arrogant as it is! But that first night wasgood. Better than good. Better than I expected it to be. And every time I thought about fucking someone else, I just kept thinking about you and how good that night was. I thought maybe I should leave it at that, instead of sleeping with some guy that was just going to disappoint me. I was already going to be disappointed when I got married; I didn’t need to add to it on vacation!”
David’s mouth twitches with humor, and somehow, that makes me even angrier. “This isn’t funny,” I bite out, wrapping my arms around my knees. “You were supposed to be something that I could remember, something I chose for myself, even after I went home and had to go along with the life that was already planned out for me. Instead, you became just another thing I didn’t choose.”
I see the way he flinches at that. His jaw tightens, and he looks down at me, the warmth in his eyes flickering out. “Are you sure you don’t want me to join you in the bath?” he asks, his voice deceptively quiet. “I amasking, after all. So youcanchoose.”
The fear I felt earlier returns, winding its way through me, making me feel chilled despite the warmth of the water. I don’t know if it would be better or worse for me to say yes—if he would rather I give in to him or if, given what I just read in the diary, pretense would only make things worse. All I know is that, at this moment, Idon’twant him. Not even the desire that seems to rear its head every time he’s near is enough to overcome what’s happened today.
“I want to be alone,” I say softly.
For a moment, I’m not sure that he’s going to leave. That he’s going to ignore what I’ve asked for, and join me anyway. His jaw tightens, and he looks at me once more, an expression on his face that almost looks sad. And then, to my relief, he pushes away from the counter and turns his back on me, walking out of the room.
I sit there for several long moments, waiting for my pulse to slow, waiting for any of this to make sense. The man I’ve married is a convoluted mystery, and I no longer think I have time to figure out if it’s one I should unravel.
There’s no easy way out of this for me. Running away from a marriage like mine is unheard of. It’s unfathomable. But my gut instinct is telling me that’s exactly what I need to do. That if I stay, my baby and I will meet the same fate that Bria and Marcus did.
I stay in the bath for a long time, until my skin has started to prune and the water starts to go cold, and I look at my pile of clothes next to the tub. The diary is still tucked underneath, and I know I can’t put it back where I found it, not without risking getting caught. I’m going to have to hide it somewhere that, hopefully, David won’t look.
Wrapping a towel around myself, I bundle the diary into my clothes, heading upstairs to our room. My stomach tightens when I see David already in bed, propped up against the pillows with a book in hand. I clutch the clothes tighter, as if the diary might fall out and give me away at any moment. The only thing I can think to do is walk quickly to the laundry hamper, stuffing the clothes and diary down inside and hoping I can retrieve it later. For the first time, I’m glad there’s no regular staff that might sweep away the laundry in the morning—right now, David relies on a weekly service to take it, and that’s still a few days away.
David doesn’t look at me as I slip into bed, but I can feel a shift in the air, the sudden tension of his body beside mine. I slide down under the covers, facing away from him, and I’m reminded with a rush of the night he came home drunk from the party—his hands sliding over me, the way he touched me when he thought I was asleep, the way he whispered even then that I wanted him. As if it was a reassurance, a reminder to himself that even asleep he wasn’t making me do anything I didn’t want to do.
After what feels like a very long time, his light switches off. It’s dark, only the faint moonlight coming through the balcony doors lighting the room, and I feel that prickling sensation wash over me again. I can hear David breathing behind me, his hand in the space between our bodies, and I go very still when I feel his fingers brush along my lower back, just under the edge of my tank top.
“I want you.” His voice is low and quiet, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. He’s never said it like that before, like he’saskingfor what he so often says is his, what he tells me that I’m always willing to give him no matter the circumstances. “Cara mia—”
I close my eyes, and for a moment, I want to say yes. There are so many reasons why. I feel warm and lethargic after the bath and the small amount of wine, and the way he’s been tonight makes me want to give him another chance. His questions about my family, about myfeelings, his allusion to the possibility that I might be telling him the truth about Ibiza, and now this—
It makes me want to believe that he’s trying. But how many times have I wondered that before? And now, with everything I’ve found out, a more sinister thought slips into my head.
Is he doing this because he suspects that I’ve caught him? Because he thinks that if he gets me to lower my guard, I’ll slip, and he can find out just how much I know? Whether or not I know too much?
My stomach knots, and I wonder if I’m being paranoid. If I’m throwing away a chance at something close to happiness with my husband on suspicions and conjecture. If I’m planning to try to run away from a man who has every means at his disposal to catch me because of something that I’ve pieced together without any real assurance that this is the truth.
If I’m making it all worse by telling him no tonight—the only time I ever have.
“I’m tired,” I whisper, without looking back at him. I know, in that moment, as the words slip out of my mouth, that my decision is made. That I can’t stay here, growing more and more afraid and isolated day by day, risking my child’s safety and mine.
This life is almost impossible to leave. But I have to try.
I wonder, as his fingers go still against my skin, if he’s going to ignore what I said. If he’s going to keep touching me, arousing me the way he knows he can. I haven’t outright saidno, but the words hover in the air, and I wonder if he’s going to pretend not to understand.
He hesitates, just a moment. And then his hand drops away from my back, leaving me feeling strangely bereft as he rolls onto his back, and the room is silent and still.
I lie there for a long time, wondering if the decision I’ve made is a mistake. If I’ve got it all wrong.
If I’ll ever really know for sure, one way or another.
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