He glanced around the bathroom before setting his suspicious gaze on me. “What are you doing?”
“I . . . don’t remember.”
He softened, accepting it instantly, and strode over to wrap his arms around me in a hug. His tone was joking. “You still remember me?”
When he lowered in for a kiss, I twisted away. “I’m not so sure.” My voice was cold. “Remind me of your name.”
He sobered. “It’s Ryan.”
I pushed free from his embrace. “You’re lying.”
His face went blank. “What makes you say that?”
“Your safe full of fake passports.”
He seemed strangely relieved. “That’s so we can hide. Stay safe.”
“Why do I look drugged in the pictures?”
“Why do you...?” He looked confused. “Probably because you were. You’d just been released from the hospital.”
I supposed that made sense, but I didn’t trust him at all. “I remember the theater shooting,” I said. “Tell me what happened in the parking garage.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, assuming a defiant posture. “No.”
“Then I can’t marry you.”
He took a sharp breath, and his whole face changed. It announced he was over it. Finally ready to give up the charade. His expression changed further, becoming dark and murderous.
Instincts took over, forcing me to step back, away from him.
“You will obey me,” he commanded in a voice I hadn’t heard before, one that promised violence if I didn’t do as I was told. “You will say yes to me, Laurel.”
The earth shifted. An enormous force pressed down, shattering me into a million pieces, and everything went black.
44
LAUREL
Darkness gave way to pain.Someone was inside my head with a hammer, trying to break out of my skull. I was on my feet but bent over, and my head was cradled in one hand. I blinked my eyes open, wincing at the light.
It was so bright, everything was white. As I tried to focus, I noticed the texture. Fabric. A skirt. No, wait—a dress.
Oh, fuck.
I stood slowly, tearing my gaze from the wedding dress I wore so I could reel around. Time slowed when I found him across from me in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter.
Ryan wore an elegant black tuxedo, the bow tie undone at his neck. There was a glass of champagne in his left hand and a silver band on his third finger. I looked down at my own hand, horrified to discover the band beside the engagement ring there.
“Laurel?” He asked it with concern, like we’d been mid-conversation and I’d suddenly stopped talking.
I dropped the glass of champagne I wasn’t aware I’d been holding, and it shattered on the floor, splattering everywhere.
“What’s wrong?” He took a step toward me, but I backed away.
“What the fuck just happened?”
He looked totally lost. “What are you talking about?”
