I forced the words out. “Because I sent you things that could ruin me. And I don’t trust you not to use them.”
He went very, very still. Good, I thought viciously. Bleed a little. Let him hear a sentence that doesn’t paint him as noble.
“You think I’d release your photos?” he asked. The calm dropped out of his voice. What replaced it was low and lethal. “Is that what’s keeping you up?”
My chest constricted, but I nodded. “Yes.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,”
“That’s what you said about breaking me. And yet.” I gestured between us.
His jaw flexed. “I don’t leak what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours. Whatever this was, it’s over. You made that very clear. But those videos… those photos… the recordings… they’re permanent.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose. “They’re encrypted. Stored offline. Locked down. No one touches them but me.”
“That isn’t reassuring. You being the only one who can destroy my life.”
“I wouldn’t.” His voice roughened.
“And, I’ve heard that line before,”
His stare hardened. “You truly think I could do that to you.”
He sounded hurt. Good, I thought again. Then immediately hated myself for it.
“I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore,” I whispered. “You say you’re protecting me. You say you love me. And then you drop me so cold I nearly freeze. And three months later you’re standing here talking about inventory. What am I supposed to believe?”
He didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.
I looked up at the ceiling to stop the tears gathering again. Chandeliers glittered. Everything sparkled like we weren’t standing there tearing something apart that had already died once.
“I lie awake wondering if today is the day I open my phone and see my own body on someone else’s screen. If you’ll send something as leverage. Or as revenge. Or just because you’re bored and heartless.”
He flinched that time. Properly. Like the image hurt him physically.
“I am not bored. And I am not heartless.”
“You were heartless that night.”
His eyes sharpened. “No. I was calculated. There’s a difference.”
“Feels the same from this side,”
We stared at each other, the air much too still for two people with this much history.
“I will never release anything you gave me. Even if you never look at me again.”
The certainty in it made my throat close.
“I want to believe you,” I said.
“Then do.”
“I did,” I whispered. “Once.”
I could feel him wanting to move closer. The way his shoulders tightened, like his body was arguing with his brain.
