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I have no choice but to do whatever Dexter asks of me, no matter what.
At all costs, I must keep custody of my son, even if it means losing everything and everyone.
Including Ethan.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KRISTINE
“Are you ready?”asks Ethan on the other end of the line.
I reply with a laugh. “Not yet, but almost.”
“That's good, because I'm getting there.”
“I can't believe you got reservations atCibo Italiano. I've been waiting over a year to eat there! It's the most exclusive place in town.”
“What can I tell you? I'm full of surprises,” Ethan states.
Shaking my head, I run around the room, looking for my things. There's a pair of earrings I want to wear tonight, and I can't find them.
“I'm hanging up. I need to get ready, and you're just distracting me!”
“Okay.” The smile on Ethan's lips is evident in his words. “But don't be long. I'll wait for you downstairs.”
“Okay. See you in five minutes,” I promise him.
I cut the call and look at myself in the mirror, finishing arranging my dress over my body. My slender figure is highlighted by the way the fabric clings to me, and the color matches my eyes.
Smiling, I tuck my hair to the side of my face and finish my makeup. It's been a long time since I've felt like this, so attractive and comfortable with myself, and I love the feeling.
I'm glad to know that after everything that has happened, a part of me that I thought was dead has been reborn.
Contemplating my appearance in the mirror one last time, I grab my purse, ready to leave the house.
As I walk down the stairs, I hear the door. I gave Ethan the key to the lock a few days ago, so it must be him.
“Wait, didn't you say you were going to wait for me downstairs?” I inquire, laughing.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know you had an appointment. I thought I'd surprise you,” states a familiar and not at all wanted voice.
My body stiffens, and as I finish walking down the stairs, I notice the man standing in front of the couch.
Tall and imposing, with short dark hair that is always well combed, brown eyes, a trimmed beard, and a slightly angular face. His charismatic and completely deceptive smile hovers over me like a shadow over my happiness.
“Brandon,” I whisper. “What are you doing here? How did you...?”
He clicks his tongue. “I thought it was time to pay you a visit, Krissy. We haven't talked in so long.”
“Don't call me Krissy. You have no right to be here. You know that. This isn't your home anymore.”
“Isn't it?” Brandon gives me a sly look, as if daring me to throw him out of here. “Come on, honey. What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours, remember? Till death do us part and all that.”
I begin to approach slowly, measuring my movements. Brandon is a snake. You have to gauge every step you take, because at any moment, he could jump on you and bite you.
Clearly, he detects my unease. His grin widens into something threatening.
“Since when did you become so afraid of me?” he jokes, heading in the direction of the kitchen, beginning to rummage through my things.
