Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,102

would be on her in an instant.

Her nerves jangling, she willed herself to stay calm as she walked to the hall. She’d made it past the bathroom door, the front door almost in reach, when he said quietly behind her, ‘Where are you going?’

She froze. ‘Just outside for some fresh air,’ she said, trying hard to sound casual. ‘I have a really bad headache. I—’

‘You’ve been going through my things,’ he stated flatly.

Her heart lurched. ‘No I haven’t,’ she denied quickly. Too quickly. ‘I was just looking for the paracetamol. I wasn’t—’

‘You’re scared, aren’t you?’ he said, an intrigued edge to his voice.

Sensing him walking towards her, every hair on Millie’s body rose.

‘Wondering about the blood?’ he said, right behind her.

Fear constricting her throat, Millie launched herself forwards.

‘It’s mine,’ Louis growled as she grappled with the ancient Yale lock on the front door. ‘It’s my blood, you silly cow.’ He slammed his hand against the door. ‘What? Did you think I’d murdered someone?’

‘I need to go.’ Millie caught a sob in her throat. ‘I don’t feel very well.’

‘It’s my blood,’ he repeated, pressing his other hand to the door, one now either side of her head. ‘I cut my leg on some scaffolding. I wrapped the T-shirt around it, forgot where I’d left it. I’ll show you the scar if you like.’

He wasn’t going to let her out. Millie’s heart thrashed wildly. Even if she pretended to believe him, he probably wouldn’t. Her mind racing, groping for a way to make him move away, she stopped struggling with the door and turned slowly. His face was inches from her own, his breath sweet with mouthwash, his eyes … They were frightened. Her blood pumped. He was as scared as she was.

‘And the photographs?’ she asked, taking a gamble and praying hard.

He pulled his hands away from the door as if he’d been electrocuted. ‘What photographs?’

‘My mother.’ She held his gaze, shaking inside as she watched his eyes grow thunderously dark, seething suddenly with contempt. For her. He didn’t want her. She’d been a means to an end, that was all. He’d been in a relationship with her mother. Was he still? Her mind reeled as she tried to make sense of it. No. He’d been stalking her. He was threatening her. He wanted to destroy her family. She wouldn’t let him. ‘I saw your phone too,’ she said, her fear giving way to the hatred bubbling up inside her. ‘You should know I dialled 999 on it and left the call open.’

He squinted at her, sneering disbelievingly for a second. ‘Fuck!’ he spat, and spun on his heel, slamming his fist into the wall as he stormed back to the bedroom. Almost choking on the fear lodged in her throat, she whirled around, her survival instinct lending her the strength she needed to wrench the door open.

She’d reached the steps when she felt his arm slide around her. ‘Let me go.’ Terror gripping her, she struggled against the hold he had around her neck.

‘Not until you give me my fucking stuff back,’ he hissed close to her ear.

Millie squirmed. He only squeezed tighter, hauling her backwards. ‘I’ve done time in prison thanks to your mother,’ he snarled. ‘Suffered perverts and bullies, counted the days until we could be together. And what did she do?’ He paused, as if he expected her to answer. ‘She moved on. Made a nice cosy life for herself with your fucking perfect father and tried to forget me, that’s what she did. But she knows.’ He jerked his arm a fraction tighter. ‘She knows she belongs to me. I was her first. I’ll be her fucking last. Do you honestly think I would let some pathetic little schoolgirl rob me of that? Give me my stuff! Now!’

He was deranged. Out of his mind. Millie’s stomach twisted. ‘All right,’ she rasped. ‘All right. Stop, please,’ she begged, gagging against the constriction in her windpipe. ‘You’re going to kill me.’

He jerked her chin upwards, sending her a warning, then relaxed his grip enough for her to draw breath. ‘Piss me about and you will be dead, do you hear me?’

She nodded hard.

‘Good,’ he spat, heaving her around by the scruff of her neck. ‘My things.’

She fumbled in her pockets, tugging the photos out first, her heart jolting as one fluttered to the ground.

‘Careless bitch,’ he muttered, bending to retrieve it – and Millie brought her knee up hard, a combination of satisfaction and nausea sweeping through her