Page 75 of Selfish Desires

“He means our safety,” I interjected, trying to keep my voice steady despite the cold dread creeping up my spine. Wendy looked at me with disbelief etched deep into her brown eyes, her hands falling limply to her sides.

“Is there something you're not telling me, Vincent?” she asked, her tone carrying a final warning I couldn’t ignore much longer.

“Cyrus is here to offer us protection,” I told her quickly. “There's... there's been a bit of a threat. Nothing too serious, but I thought it best to take precautions.”

Her eyes flickered between Cyrus and me, trying to gauge the truth in my words. Her gaze was piercing. It felt like she could see through the layers of deception to the details I had been trying so desperately to hide.

“Vincent, you have two seconds to stop answering me with these vague…” Wendy motioned to the air between us, lost to words. “Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

And my heart and all restraint failed. How could I keep lying if I loved Wendy? “There was another threat. It involved a rock with a note taped to it. And this is why we’re here.”

Wendy blinked once, twice. “What did the note say?” Her voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that made me swallow hard.

“Just the word, liar, on it.”

Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed in a tight line. The disbelief once etched into her features morphed into disappointment. “You could have told me. We could have dealt with it together.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” I confessed, my voice choked by the fear of losing her. “I wanted to somehow preserve our fresh start. I mean, look how far we’ve come?” Even I couldn’t make myself half believe the crap spewing from my mouth.

“A fresh start built on lies?” Wendy questioned, her gaze boring into mine.

“No… not on lies…” I managed to utter, my voice quivering slightly. “I just wanted to... protect you.”

“From what? From your past? From your mistakes?” Her tone turned icy, as if she was speaking more to herself than me. She stepped closer until her breath hit my chin. “Tell me, Vincent. And tell the truth this time. Were we ever going to go back to Newport this week? Or did you plan to keep me here all along?”

All I could muster was a sigh. The truth tasted bitter, but I owed her that much. “No...we weren't going back to Newport,” I admitted. Wendy’s eyes widened as I confirmed her suspicions. “At least not now. It’s not safe.”

Her arm fell to her side, and she took a step back. “You lied to me.” It was not a question but an accusation. Her face hardened, and her brows furrowed.

“I did it for you,” I blurted out desperately. “Wendy, you have to believe me.”

“Of course, you did it for me. And once again, you’re making yourself believe it’s the right move. But you’re not including me in your real plan. Just as you did three years ago.” Wendy swallowed, inhaling a sharp breath, and was about to say something when her ringtone interrupted our downward spiral.

She hastily pulled her phone from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and grimaced.

“I have to take this. It’s Marissa,” she said, her voice audibly strained. She cast me one last look of cold disappointment before answering the call.

Cyrus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure what to say or do in the tense silence.

Finally, he cleared his throat and mumbled, “Maybe we should return to Newport. Punch up security there. It’s worth a shot.”

I shook my head, more out of defeat than disagreement. “No, Cyrus. I've messed up enough already.” My heart ached as I watched Wendy on the phone, her face pulled into a tight frown as she paced in the restaurant's corner. A cold sweat erupted on my neck as a chilling thought settled in my mind: something was wrong.

“She's strong,” Cyrus offered in a gentle voice, contrasting starkly with his burly exterior. “She'll come around once she understands why you did what you did.”

“But will she?” I asked, my voice an annoying squeak even to my ears. A weight settled on my chest, its presence heavy and insurmountable. I turned my gaze toward Cyrus, hoping for an answer before I shifted my attention back to Wendy.

I watched as Wendy ended her phone call and slowly walked toward us, her face unreadable.

“Vincent,” she began, her voice steady and calm, though I could see how her hands trembled slightly at her sides. “We have to leave.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” I placed a hand on each of Wendy’s shoulders.

“There’s been an accident at the restaurant.” Her face stayed deadpan.

“What kind of accident?” I exchanged a quick glance with Cyrus, who clenched his jaw.

“An oven exploded. No one was hurt, thank God. But I have to get back to help Marissa.”

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