Brutus.
I swallow. His gaze snaps to me, sharp and dark as he continues the call. Something cold slithers through my spine.
Keira. The photo. Brutus laughing with me. The timing is too perfect.
He ends the call and stares at the wall, jaw set.
“What was that about?” I ask casually, now standing as I tie on my robe.
“Work,” he murmurs dismissively.
I move closer, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “I just want you to know my heart belongs to you.”
At first, he goes still.
Then his left eye twitches.
I see the shift. The slide into chaos.
“Why would you say that?” His voice is low and sharp enough to cut. “Why do you feel the need to reassure me you’ve done nothing wrong?”
Guilt hits too fast. Brutus laughing. My hand on his arm. Rupert’s words. His business card in my purse. The doubt if I should use it. The birth control lie. They flash through my mind like incriminating snapshots.
He catches the panic in my eyes.
And it’s over. He spirals.
He cages me with his body in one step, slamming my back against the door. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. His hand grips my jaw. His face is inches from mine, fury twisting through every line of him.
“I know you are lying. There is something you’re not telling me.”
I tremble under his rage. His breath shakes with it. His eyes burn with suspicion fed by demons I cannot see.
“Why lie?” he snarls.
Then his eyes squeeze shut, and he growls, but not at me. To someone else.
“No, no, no! She’s mine. It’s not true. You’re the liar. Quiet! I cannot. I won’t do it.”
He is unraveling. Fast.
I lift my hands and cradle his face, pulling his forehead to mine. I whisper his name slowly, gently.
“It’s me, Gustav. Your wife. I am not lying. I won’t ever hurt you.”
His eyes open. His breathing eases.
I stroke his cheek, grounding him the only way I know. “We will be faithful to each other,” I whisper. “We can always trust in each other.”
Damn it. I feel awful lying to him so boldly. I just... I’m in over my head. He’s chaos who could end me in a second.
It takes a long moment, but his body slowly relaxes. His forehead presses harder to mine, as if he needs the contact to stay tethered.
When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I am sorry.” Then, he kisses my temple. Once. Twice. A third time, as if to apologize for each sharp word that cut me. His mouth drags to my cheek. My jaw. My lips. His hands cup my jaw like I am the only part of the world that is real.
He breathes against my mouth, a confession trembling out of him:
“I’ve never loved anyone, but I am in love with you.”
