Yeah, I’m just his morbid scar-faced fetish.
Ignoring his last line, I stated, “So he doesn’t drive or get into a familiar car because of his parents’ death.”
“That would be the lasting effect, sure.”
“And what has their death done to you?” I asked curiously.
That smirk lost its intensity, but his gaze was still locked up tight to mine. “Definitely not paranoia. And we’re not talking about me.”
He took a few steps closer to me, and I backed up to keep him a safe distance away.
“Have I answered all you need to know?” he said quietly.
No, but I nodded anyway.
“Good,” he said, moving in closer. “I’m going to say this once because I don’t think it needs repeating. Ben loves you. Don’t abuse that love, because just one act of betrayal will turn your lover into your enemy. And let me tell you this from the sincerest part of my rotten heart, never make Ben your enemy.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond, but for a split second I did see the sincerity in him. He cared for his brother. That much was clear. But what the hell did that mean to me anymore? Jamie obviously didn’t know about the ugly that resided in his older brother, and I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to tell him all about it.
Besides, maybe he was just as good of an actor as him. And judging by what he said to me once, I was certain he knew about his brother’s taste in scarred women.
He turned away from me and was nearing the door when I said, “Jamie.”
He stopped and looked back at me.
“You said he likes broken things. What did you mean?”
Jamie shook his head. “Nothing. I was drunk. I would have said anything to piss you off.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Liar.
He walked out, shutting the door behind him. I collapsed into the office chair and rubbed my chest where my heart was still thunderously beating away. It took me thirty minutes to summon the courage to leave, and by then Jamie was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Revenge
PRIVATE NUMBER CALLING
I stared at my flashing, muted phone. Once upon a time those words on my screen would have made me jump up and down with excitement. Now I just felt disgusted. I had no desire to answer. The last thing I wanted was to hear his voice. He was oblivious to my week of turmoil, and there was no way I could be around that ignorance and pretend all was fine and right.
I turned the phone off and threw it in the drawer of my desk. Then I continued cleaning the room I’d smashed to bits a week ago. After I finished, I went down to the kitchen and grabbed a can of soda and the leftover pizza box Emily ordered for herself last night. I took it up to my bedroom and, without giving a fuck anymore of what might come up in the morning, I sat in my bed and ate every bit of it.
I lay down afterwards to digest and flicked through my Kindle. Deciding on a depressing novel, I read parts of Wuthering Heights, trying for the millionth time to connect to Heathcliff and his sadism. I wondered, just as Heathcliff masterfully sought his revenge, if I could somehow do the same to Ben. Could I be capable of pretending all was fine, and would I really enjoy watching his world come crashing down once he was put away for good?
Was revenge going to bring me light in the end? Was it going to shed some clarity in the murky waters I’d submerged myself in? Or would I just feel emptier than I already did?
Time to find out, Claire.
Suddenly a woman on a mission, I put the kindle down and got out of bed. I searched for the card Detective Hardman gave me right before I left the station. I found it in the pocket of my shorts in the laundry pile. I grabbed the phone out of the drawer – ignoring the five missed calls from Ben – and dialled his number.
It was time to get even.
*****
You didn’t always have to hear or see something to know it was there. Sometimes your body sensed it long before your mind registered.
In this case, my body was aware of him before I opened my eyes and had my first thought. He entered the bedroom and loomed over me. I was on my side, my back to him. I didn’t know how long he stood there, but at some point I finally opened my eyes and stared at the wall, waiting for him to make a move. He didn’t say a word as the sound of his clothes coming off hit my ears.
The mattress dipped, and his hand touched my hip. I flinched, and I was sure it was a giveaway I was awake.
“Hey,” he said guardedly, his mouth close my ear. “It’s me, beauty.”
Beauty.
I held my breath and waited for the pain in my chest to pass, but it didn’t. My heart picked up pace and my skin tingled warmly. How could I be feeling such good emotions when everything inside of me wanted to scream and push him away?
“I tried calling you to tell you I got back,” he said, running his lips along my bare shoulder.
The December summer heat had me in nothing but my singlet and panties. I felt vulnerable, wanting nothing more than to cover my skin so there was a barrier between his touch.
“I misplaced my phone,” I lied.
He wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me against his bare chest, further enveloping me in his scent. “I missed you.”
Yeah? Didn’t seem like it. “You didn’t call.”
“I couldn’t.”
Right. I shut my eyes and tried to endure his gentle touch, knowing already it wasn’t real. He was a lie.
His hand dipped below my shirt and his fingers grazed my stomach before descending lower and lower. I flinched when he inched his way into my panties and squirmed uncomfortably. My body both heated in lust and tensed in disgust.
“Please stop,” I pleaded in a whisper. My throat closed and tears threatened to surface.
He instantly stopped and pulled out. “What’s the matter?” he asked cautiously.
Fuck. I didn’t know what to do at this point. I reflected quickly on Hardman’s words.
Do not let him suspect you.
You’re the last person he’s threatened by. Keep it that way.
Be the same as you were before.
“I’m just feeling sick,” I lied again, hoping my voice didn’t give me away.
“Not sick enough to eat judging by the pizza.”
“It’s because of the pizza. Stomach ache. And I’m worried any motion will make me throw up.”
“Is it too much motion to ask you to kiss me?”