thought about leaving the country entirely, and I still might.
If it wasn’t for the sale of those photographs, I would have never been able to accomplish it.
One more night.
I can survive this...
I keep telling myself that as I sit on the side of our bed, waiting for the pills to take effect that Grant makes me swallow every night.
He walks in front of me, removing his suit jacket to toss over the back of a chair in the corner sitting area, unbuttons his cuffs and pulls at the knot in his tie.
“I haven’t heard from Harrison since your little gallery show.”
Green eyes catch mine from over his shoulder, his back to me as he pulls his wallet from his pocket to toss on top of a dresser near the closet.
Turning, he grins as he tugs at the top buttons of his pressed white shirt to loosen the collar.
“Guess he wasn’t that impressed.”
The knife hits where he’d intended, but I shrug off the sting. Those photos weren’t for Ari. They were for me, a clawing grasp at what I had before this asshole tricked me into giving up every part of myself.
I’ll take it all back eventually. I just have to escape.
“Even if he wasn’t impressed. Somebody was. I sold every piece.”
There is still a little rebellion left in me, only because I refuse to let him break me completely.
Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, he keeps a careful eye on me. Doesn’t react to what I said. He’s watching for my reaction to whatever cruel statement he’ll make next.
“You know,” he says, slipping the shirt from his shoulders to reveal a toned body I’d once found attractive, “I made some calls today I should have made a few weeks ago.”
Dropping the shirt into a hamper, Grant catches my eyes, holds them. “Nobody besides Steven Turner has ever heard of Harrison Nash. I thought it was interesting, so I made a few more calls.”
My shoulders stiffen as much as they can, the effects of the drugs already taking over.
“What I found is he doesn’t exist.”
Grant steps up to me and gently touches my chin, tilts my face to his. “You’re going to tell me who he really is.”
Heart sinking with one painful thump, I tell him the truth. “I don’t know.”
His mouth comes to my ear, hand sliding to my throat. “I think you’re lying.”
Grant’s fingers flex, the gentle grip tighter. He’s holding back, though. I can feel it in the way his hand shakes just slightly.
He’s only trying to scare you. Don’t panic...
“I think you’re going to tell me everything you know about Harrison Nash. And then you’re going to explain to me what the point of your little game is.”
“I don’t know who he is.”
It’s not a lie. If Harrison Nash doesn’t exist, then I have no idea who the man is that managed to seduce me into breaking my vows. It terrifies me to think I’d been so stupid. He could have been anybody, and I’d willfully been alone with him.
Maybe this is why I’d known better than to ask for his help. He’s not the person he pretended to be.
What the fuck happened to my life?
Fingers grip harder, but I hold my breath, wait it out. Green eyes pin mine, a warning rolling behind them that causes my pulse to thud, to race, to skip.
Then Grant smiles, the line of it hard.
“Is that so?”
He lets me go, and I draw in a breath as he crosses the room to his dresser to open the top drawer. What he pulls out causes my pulse to race even more, my breath to catch again. I can feel my heart pounding everywhere, the tendons in my neck pulling painfully tight as Grant turns to me fully and holds up all the proof he needs that I’ve done something wrong.
How the hell did he find it?
“While you were out running errands the other day, I had Gloria come to the house and take a look around.”
His thumb presses a button on the cheap phone, eyes narrowing, just before he cocks his arm and throws the phone at me so hard, it cracks against my face.
My hand flies to where it struck, pain radiating out from my cheekbone until tears are leaking from my eye.
“Pick it the fuck up and read me what the texts say, Adeline.”
I shake my head, knowing what he’ll do to me.
A low growl. “Pick it up. I’d like to hear it in my wife’s voice. The proof that she’s