‘To show you what kind of men we are. We’re not the kind of people for you. You’re too good.’
‘Excuse me while I climb down from my pedestal,’ she says, her voice a regular conversational tone as she leans forward in her chair. ‘Because, fuck you, Will.’ It pains for me to see her hurt. To see the pulse of her anger tripping in her bare throat. ‘What kind of vacation fling is this,’ she mutters to herself.
‘The dangerous sort. The kind not good for my heart.’
‘You’re not on vacation,’ she says through gritted teeth.
‘You’ve been like a holiday to me.’ The best kind of experience.
‘And everyone has to go home, right?’ Tears glisten in her eyes as I agree.
‘Because I’m wrong for you Sadie.’
‘You mean I’m not good enough?’ she says, challenge now shining in her gaze.
‘Because of the title? The car? How about the fancy apartment? It’s all a sham. I’m indentured to my family crest. I’ll never settle down, because who the fuck would want to be saddled with my issues? My debt? I’ll never have what good people have.’ A partner. A family—Like Ella and Mac. ‘This is all I’ll ever have. Fucking without a connection. Fucking for the sake of release.’
I drain my glass and place it down. ‘I can take you home now, or you can stay. Maybe you don’t believe the things I’m telling you. Maybe you need to see them for yourself. But I warn you, this shit isn’t always pretty.’ And yet I’m desperate for her to stay. I didn’t want her here—didn’t want to partake in her debasement. And yet here I am, tempting her into the parlour like the spider who enticed the fly.
I know what the answer is before she even speaks.
Every step I take this evening will pull us farther apart, stretching the tether between us until it snaps like a piece of elastic, stinging us both. And the longer I put this off is another moment I ignore the inevitable. So, standing, I hold out my hand.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SADIE
You were the seal of perfection. Perfect in beauty.
As Will stands above me, holding out his hand, an old passage from the bible flits into my mind. Something tells me it’s a description of the devil, which seems pretty apt. And the devil is in the detail of the tension showing in the pinched corners of his eyes, and in the way his jaw flexes and how he doesn’t smile.
‘You don’t want me here,’ I say, taking as I stand.
‘What ever gave you that idea,’ he sort of growls.
‘Why is it okay for you to be here, and not me?’
‘I haven’t been for weeks. I haven’t stepped through the door since the moment you opened yours, all elegance and attitude.’
‘Don’t flatter me.’
‘I didn’t mean to. It just happens to be the truth.’
‘It’s also not an answer to my question.’
My hand still in his, he turns from me, but I see his hard expression anyway. ‘Why don’t you get it?’ he growls—a definite growl this time. ‘There has only been you since that day. Not that it matters. Nothing good can come of this.’
He pulls on my hand and I stumble into his side, though he rights me quickly, separating our bodies.As though my presence burns.
‘You’ll keep hold of my hand,’ he warns. ‘And you won’t stray from my side.’
‘Or else?’
‘Or else I’ll put you over my knee and spank your arse until you’re sobbing.’ He makes to step away, pulling me by my hand again as he mutters, ‘Unless some fucker beats me to it first.’
I’m too stunned to form a response, trotting mindlessly behind him.
We don’t speak as we walk a warren of hallways filled with door-less entrances to darkened rooms. Noises rise from some of them. Voices. Moans. Flesh hitting flesh. There’s a peculiar atmosphere around the place. Something familiar. Yet something I can’t place.
