This really annoys me. She’s just decided that she won’t love me without ever giving me a chance. All my life, women have done this. I want to love them, but they just decide I’m not worthy of them. It’s cruel.
“You need to understand,” I snap. “That I don’t have anybody else.”
“Why does that mean you should haveme?!”She argues.
“Don’t you think that everybody deserves someone?”
“Sure. But no one’sentitledto love. You have to earn it.”
“I have earned you!” I shout, losing my temper. “I’ve worked so hard for you. Look at everything I’ve done for you.” I wave around the room. She doesn’t look away from me. She’s breathing hard, her breasts heaving and trembling in her low-cut dress. I want to look so badly, but I know that will just make her more angry. “You’ll never understand,” I tell her. “Right now, I bet there are so many people looking for you. Your agent, and your bodyguards, and your fans—they all want you back. If I disappeared, no one would care. No one would notice. So.” I take a deep breath. “I think I deserve to be happy with the woman I love.”
“You don’t love me,” she whispers. “You don’t even know me.”
I frown. What a stupid thing to say. “Of course I love you. You’re all I think about. Everything I do, I do for you.” She stares up at me impassively. “I love the way you walk,” I continue. “I love your voice. Your smile. Your hair. I love everything about you.” I swallow. “I… I think I’ve gone mad over you. You’ve made me mad.”
But that’s what love is, right? It makes you mad. I clear my throat. “So, yes, I do love you. And I do know you. Ever since the day we met, I’ve studied up on you. I know the clothes you like, where you work out, your favourite snacks. Loads of things.”
She blinks. “We’ve met before?”
“You might not recognise me that easily,” I smile. “You were sixteen years old. I went to a convention you spoke at. You dropped your handbag, and I picked it up for you, and you smiled at me.” I take a deep breath, remembering. “You smiled right at me, and I could feel how much you cared about me. I felt the connection between us.”
Her face twists. “Whateverconnectionyou felt was completely one-sided,” she spits. “You made it up in your head.”
She may as well have kicked me in the chest. I stagger a step back. “You’re lying.”
She glares up at me. “I’m not. I smile at thousands of people a day at those events.”
“Youare.Youhaveto be. I…” I trail off, running a hand through my hair. I’m very stressed and upset. “You’re really starting to hurt my feelings,” I warn her.
“Really?” Her eyes widen. “I’m so sorry! I’d hate to hurt yourfeelings.”
She’s being sarcastic. I scowl. I don’t like this side of her. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. “I think you need a time out,” I decide. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re really upsetting me.”
I pick up the gag on the table and stomp into the bathroom, bending under the sink and pulling out the sealed bucket of chloroform I made earlier today. I dip the gag in it, then head back into the lounge, waving it to dry it out.
Her eyes widen when she sees what I’m holding. She tries to get up again, but I grab her by the shoulder and push her back onto the couch. I don’t mean to push her hard, but her head cracks against the wall, and she cries out, trying to tug away.
“X, please, no—”
I slap the cloth onto her face. “No, no, I think you should have some more of this. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” I hold the gag tightly to her mouth until she groans and goes still again.
I’m not really sure what to do next, so I go and make myself a cup of tea, trying not to cry.
Forty-Five
Matt
?
I look around me. The brightly lit glamour of the premiere has been completely destroyed. Ten minutes ago, the square was full of beautiful men and women waving to adoring fans. Now, it looks like the aftermath of a horror movie. Cameras lie on the red carpet, their lenses shattered.Women are hunched together, crying. Nearby, a man lies unconscious on the floor, blood trickling out of his ears.
Nervous-looking paramedics pick through the crowd, bending to talk to people or roll them onto stretchers. The LAPD bomb squad is trawling the area, ushering guests away from whatever’s left of the explosives. Red and blue lights flash over the whole scene, and every minute, more police cars are drawing up in the road.
I watch a kid—achild,probably ten or eleven—get unearthed from a pile of rubble, sobbing. I feel completely empty inside.
This is my fault. I’m the reason this happened. Me. I was the one who hid X’s threat from Briar. I let her slip away in the hotel room.
And now she could be dead. Because of me.
