Page 110 of The Retreat

I freeze. I can’t read him. I don’t know what he wants. “Who did this to you?”

He shakes his head.

“Who did this to you?” I ask again, but I know the answer.

“Owen, please just?—”

“Who the fuck did this to you?” I’m shaking, I’m so angry.

“It doesn’t matter.” Colin won’t meet my eyes, but his non-answer is enough.

“I love you.” I cut him off, and the words seem to leave him speechless. “Is he stable?” I ask the nurse who just walked in to see what is going on.

She nods. “Yes. He’s waiting on a doctor to come give him stitches, but his CT looks good?—”

“Isaac will be here soon. I’ll be back.” I turn on my heel and march out of the room. He may not love me, he may not want me, he may not even choose to be with me ever again, but I won’t let anyone fucking hurt him.

I stroll into the building like I own the place. “I’m here to see Mr. Covington.”

“Is he expecting you?” the doorman asks.

“If he’s not, he should be.”

“I’ll call up and—” As he picks up the phone, I press the button to hang it up.

“If you don’t let me up, you’ll have my brother to deal with.”

“Yes, sir.” He walks me over to the elevator to use his card for their floor.

I step out into the foyer when the doors pull back, glancing around the dark space. “Tacky.”

I walk through silent halls, knowing the area an office should be based on the building and its views and how most other similar apartments would be laid out, easily finding it. He’s there, sitting behind his desk sipping a drink, knuckles bruised.

I push the door wider, drawing his attention.

“Mr. Godfrey.” Mr. Covington is on his feet. “You must know?—”

“Don’t fucking speak.” My words are barely a whisper.

“I’m sure we can work something?—”

I cut him off again. “Another word and you will regret it.”

He keeps his drink in his hand but doesn’t sit back down.

I pick up the bottle from his bar. “Nice vintage. A fifty-six single malt. Shame to waste it.” I crack the bottle on his ugly wood bookshelf, spraying the liquor down the front of the dark stained wood, watching it drip to the floor before I turn on him.

“Put the drink down and face me like a man, or I’ll gut you like a pig.”

“You wouldn’t…”

I grin. “I fucking would, and I’ll get off too. Because you started this, and I’m just a poor mentally ill guy whose husband you put in the hospital. I’m not even worried about it. That’s if they find the body. My brother would do anything for me, including hide a body. As far as I know, you ran off with your mistress.”

He sets the glass down and steps around the desk. He’s bigger than I am, but I’ve been fighting guys bigger than me my entire life, and Oliver taught me to fight dirty. Part of what drew me to fencing in the first place. And now with all the muscle I’ve put on, I’m going to beat him into a pulp.

I roll up my sleeves while he hovers in the middle of his office. The waiting is making him crazy, which delights me. “How many times did you hit my husband?”

“I don’t know.” He’s telling the truth.

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