“Do you taste that, lightning bolt?” I ask him. “That’s how I make you feel. That’s why we belong together.”
10
BOLTON
Icollapse onto my stomach, gasping for breath. Stars could my vision, and I think my soul left my body for a split second. I-hate-you sex is hands down, dicks up the best sex. Period. I’ll die on that hill.
The thought of death is a bucket of ice water being poured on me. My husband moonlights as a serial killer. He fucked me in his Christmas Cleaver Sexy Santa costume, mask included, in front of a dead body hanging on a meat hook.
Oh my god…I just got my ass pounded out in front of a dead person! What if his ghost watched us?!
Every iota of self-respect I ever had for myself is gone now. I should be furious—demanding he bring me home so I can pack my bags and leave him. But a dark, fucked-up voice deep inside me tells me I’ll do nothing of the sort. I’ll never admit it aloud…but I think I liked it. I enjoyed being railed out by a dark serial killer—by my husband.
I feel like I’m going to puke. Cal’s hand rubs soothing circles on my back, his touch instantly calming me despite how conflicted I feel.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe.Pleasetalk to me.” Cal rarely begs.
He isn’t a monster—he’ll apologize when he’s wrong—but I’ve only heard him beg once…when he asked me not to leave him at the cabin.
“Let me go.”
I don’t ask, and he knows better than to argue with me or pull his alpha man bullshit act. He unhooks me, then uses my pocketknife to cut the ziptie. Every muscle in my body screams at me as I stand up and put my sweatpants and shoes back on. I can’t have a serious conversation when I know he’s ogling my body.
I sit down, so we’re eye to eye with each other. “Talk to you about what?” He winces at the bite in my voice, but I couldn’t care less. He’s lucky I’m hearing him out at all. “How you’re a murderer? How you lied to me? How we fucked in front of a dead body! How you put both of us at risk by recreating murders from my books? Books you didn’t bother to read until recently…”
Dr. Locke said to leave past transgressions in the past where they belong, but I can’t help adding in the last dig at the end about how he never read my books as I wrote them, even after one made the bestseller list.
“He isn’t dead, just concussed. He’ll eventually wake up.”
“Oh that’s wonderful,” I quip, rolling my eyes at him. “Love how out of all the major red flags I mentioned, you only address that one.”
“Talking about this is hard for me, but I’m trying. Your feelings are valid. I fucked up. Please let me give my actions context so we can move toward forgiveness.”Ugh. Why does he have to use therapy-speak with me?He knows it turns me on when he uses what he learned in marriage counseling.
“Fine, but I still hate you and reserve the right to pack my bags and leave,” I remind him.
A dark shadow passes over his eyes, his jaw tightening. Looks like I hit a nerve with Mr. Possessive Serial Killer.Boo-fucking-hoo, asshole.
“Twenty years ago, my younger sister, Eloise, was murdered,” he begins.
“Hold on, what?” I interrupt him. “Yoursister?” You had a sibling you never thought to mention to me in the almost decade we’ve been together?” My best friend and I researched Cal when we first started dating, and there was no mention of any siblings.
“I don’t talk about her—I barely even mentioned her death in therapy. My father had her erased from all records, so she technically doesn’t even exist anymore.”
A tear slides down his cheek, and my heart aches for him. How painful it must have been to carry this alone for years? He takes a deep breath, then continues.
“Long story short, my father treated Eloise like property to advance his own agenda. She wasn’t allowed to work in the family business—her job was to form a business alliance through marriage. She attended private finishing schools for young women, learned about party planning, and had strict rules about what she could do. My father controlled everything about her, down to the books she read and the clothes she could wear. At one point, he even controlled what she could and couldn’t eat. I tried to stop him, to help her, but there wasn’t much I could do. All the control and pressure affected her mental health, and she tried to end her life.”
Now I regretted not meeting Cal’s father, because I missed out on the opportunity to kick his ass. I crawl over to Cal, and lean against his arm for support. It was just my mom and I, so I can only imagine how rough it was to have a sister experience this and feel helpless to stop it.
“He had her committed to arehabilitation facilityin Europe called Brighter Days, which was basically an institution forrich people. They did something to her there—brainwashed her. When she was eighteen, she came back as an entirely different person. She had no emotions, no personality, no anything. She talked only when prompted and barely ate. I tried to ask her what happened, but she avoided the topic, claiming Brighter Days saved her.
“Less than two months after she came home, my father announced her engagement to Charles Bawdin, the son of a longtime friend. He was deplorable—a sick fuck who got off on treating women like shit. He’d brag about how hekeeps women in lineby beating and drugging them into compliance. I begged my father not to go through with it, but he told me my sister wasn’t my concern and that she wanted the marriage. She told me herself when I asked. The whole thing rattled me so much that I moved to California and founded my own company.” He wrapped his arms around me, holding me to his chest and squeezing me like a life line. “Leaving New York was the worst mistake I ever made.”
“What happened…” I whispered.
“A few nights before the wedding, my sister called me sobbing over the phone. She was having a panic attack, saying that Bawdin was hanging out with people who were involved in human trafficking. He made her do things she wasn’t able to do anymore. She claimed he had a stake in their business model, that she eavesdropped on a meeting and heard him admit it.”
“What the fuck…” I gasped, too stunned to string a sentence together. “Do you think your dad was involved too?”
