Page 72 of Ciaran

I scream in frustration. There isn’t a cat in hell’s chance I’m sleeping beside that bastard ever again. I’ll never give in to his demands. But despite my boldness and determination to defy him at every turn, a niggle of anxiety grows in my abdomen.

Dear God, please give me the strength to survive this.

Tanner doesn’t come home all day, but he will, and when he does, I’ll be ready for him. I use the time to ransack the entire house looking for any copies he’s made of the video. I don’t find a single one. After hours of searching, I wander into the living room and, in an act of defiance, throw myself into Tanner’s favorite chair.

Ouch!

Something sticks into me, so I pick up the cushion and feel around, only to find there’s something hard in here. I unzip the cover, dip my hand inside, and my fingers close around a thin, oblong object.

Oh, my God. A memory stick.

There’s only one reason Tanner would have hidden it inside the cushion. It has to be the video of Ciaran. Adrenaline shoots through me as I slip it into my pocket, zip the cushion cover back up, then stand to rearrange it back to how it had been previously.

One down, Tanner. I’m onto you.

Energized, I resume my search with enthusiasm, but I don’t find any more memory sticks. Not that I expected it to be that easy—Tanner is a cruel man, not a stupid one—but I’ve had some success and I’ll keep at it. I still need to work on my original plan. Tanner has to give up on me. Putting an absolute end to our relationship, to make it his choice, is the only other way. Without that, Ciaran and I will have the video hanging over us for the rest of our lives.

When a second day passes with no sign of Tanner, I begin to wonder if something bad has happened—and, yes, even hope that it has. As awful as it is that Tanner could have been in an accident and be currently laid up in the hospital or worse, that’s what he’s driven me to. I loathe him enough to wish him dead, and I don’t feel a shred of guilt for it.

As per usual, the second a seed of hope blooms inside me, Tanner turns up… and he has company. Three of his friends are with him.

He waltzes into the kitchen and drops a crate of beer on the countertop.

“You remember the guys, right, babe?” He gives me a crooked grin as if everything in the garden is rosy, instead of stinking of trampled dog shit. “Now, be a good girl and fetch us all a beer.” He pushes past me and walks into the living room, while I stand there silently seething.

Play it cool, Millie.

I unscrew the tops off of four bottles and, holding two in each hand, follow him. The three guys are sprawled on the couch, with Tanner in his chair, one foot crossed over the opposing knee, his fingers laced behind his neck. I hand a bottle to each of his friends, then take a long draw on the fourth while hovering by the entranceway.

Tanner glares at me, seething. “Where’s my fucking beer?”

“Sorry, babe,” I say cheerfully. “Only got two hands.”

His friends chuckle while I pick at the label on my bottle. Tanner’s jaw tightens, and his eyes are like two balls of fire. I give him an innocent stare, and a few seconds later, he stomps into the kitchen, knocking my shoulder as he walks past me. I suppress a triumphant grin. He’d better get used to me refusing to jump to attention every time he clicks his fingers.

When he returns, beer in hand, he flops into his chair. After a lazy eye sweep, his top lip curls. “What are you standing there for? Get upstairs and wait for me. I’ve got business to discuss.”

I grit my teeth to stop something spilling out that I won’t be able to take back. Embarrassing Tanner further in front of his friends isn’t the right approach. Once is enough. Best to keep switching my tactics to keep him off-balance. The less predictable I am, the more confused he’ll become.

“No problem.”

Slowly, I turn around until John, one of Tanner’s friends, snags my arm, stopping me.

“How’s your mom doing now, Millie?”

I frown. “My mom? She’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“Tanner said you’d been in New York taking care of her. That’s real nice of you. It’s good you’re back, though. This asshole has been like a bear with a sore head these last few months.” He laughs. “I’m not sure whether that’s coz he missed you, or the constant travel back and forth to New York to get his little lady fix.”

I flash a look at Tanner. So, that’s how he explained my absence. I raise an eyebrow. His expression dares me to contradict the tale he’s spun. The room is silent with a pregnant pause, the boys looking between Tanner and me.

I offer John a friendly smile. “Yeah, right, my mom. She’s much better now, thank you.”

“Good, good.”

He retracts his hand, leaving me to scamper upstairs and sit on the edge of the bed in the spare room. Fuck Tanner and his orders. That man will never again touch me. I’d rather die first.

Hours pass until, eventually, I fall into a fitful sleep only to be woken by Tanner stumbling along the hallway. He bumps into the wall and curses. He must be drunk. I stiffen my spine, my attention fixed on the door, waiting for him to burst in. The handle moves, but the door won’t open because of the chair.

---