hammering hard on the imposing wooden front doors, stopping only briefly for a second or two to catch his breath and breathe in deep, preparing himself for the confrontation to come.
Hammering hard on the door again he heard voices from inside, drawing closer, shouting at him to stop with the knocking. Reece took a step back, more than ready to do what he should have done over seven years ago, his heart beating ten to the dozen as he waited for the door to be flung open. And when it finally was, Michael stood there, his face stoic if not slightly puzzled at the sight of Reece on his doorstep.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked, but before he’d even got the words out of his mouth Reece had pushed him inside, sending him reeling back against the wall. ‘Jesus, Reece, what the fuck…?’
‘Don’t… don’t even talk to me, you got that? Don’t talk to me, because I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me right now. I don’t want to hear the excuses and the lies and the…’
‘What the hell is going on here?’ Layla asked, running into the hallway, wrapping her pale pink silk dressing gown tighter around her. ‘Reece?’
Reece didn’t move his eyes away from Michael’s. ‘You raped my daughter. You did that… and you think I can just forget about it?’
‘It was seven years ago, Reece…’
‘I said I didn’t want to hear you talk, didn’t you fucking hear me?’
‘Michael?’ Layla asked, a small hint of panic creeping into her voice. ‘Is… is this true?’
‘Of course it’s fucking true!’ Reece almost spat the words out, looking briefly over at Layla before turning his attention back to Michael. ‘And it doesn’t matter when it happened, it happened. You did that, you raped my beautiful daughter and you expect me to leave it alone because it happened seven years ago? You really think I can do that? Huh?’
‘Please, Reece, we can talk about this…’
‘Talk? What the fuck can you possibly think I want to talk about?’
Michael pulled himself upright, steadying himself against the banister as Layla continued to stare at him, watching what was going on, confusion washing over her like a tidal wave.
‘I don’t understand…’ she whispered, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes, blinking furiously to try and stop them from falling. ‘Michael… did you…?’
Michael looked at her, his heart breaking in that all-too-familiar fashion but he wasn’t altogether sure who it was breaking for – the woman who stood here in front of him, this beautiful woman who’d been willing to take him back, despite everything he’d done to her? Or the woman he knew he could never live without. India Walsh. His obsession; his life.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Layla gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her voice shaking. ‘You raped India?’
‘Layla, honey, I can explain…’
Reece threw his head back, letting out a loud, cynical laugh. ‘You can explain?’ He moved closer to Michael, his voice slow and steady. ‘My daughter should never have gone anywhere near you.’
‘I loved her, Reece. You have no idea how much… And I don’t know what made me do what I did…’
‘You don’t know why you raped her?’
Layla couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer as small, sharp sobs wracked her body and as much as Reece wanted to run to her and comfort her and tell her to get the hell out while she still could, he wasn’t finished. He still had work to do. Layla now knew the truth about the man she professed to love; it was up to her what she did with that information.
‘I should kill you, for what you did to her. And believe me, I want to. More than you could fucking imagine, but that’s just not me. I’m not some fucking monster. And where would that get me anyway, huh?’
‘You have no idea how sorry…’
Reece laughed that laugh again, more than surprised at how calm and in control he felt in a situation that could go any way at any given moment. But he could handle this.
‘Sorry? You’re fucking sorry? You ruined my daughter’s life, Walsh. You got inside her head and you refused to let go and that’s killing her, do you realise that? It’s fucking killing her.’
‘Reece, please…’ Layla’s voice caused Reece to break his stare from Michael for a second, and as he turned around he found himself looking at yet another woman who’d been hurt at the hands of this man, her pretty face stained with