Page 58 of Fear Me, Love Me

They’re not going to say thank you or that I did a good thing for our family.

A stupid, sad lump rises up my throat.

“I’ll go shower,” I whisper, and move past them toward the stairs.

Just then, the doorbell rings. All three of us turn to the front door at the same time, and my heart starts to race. It’s Tyrant. It has to be. I can’t see the outline of anyone through the frosted glass, but he’s moved back or to one side, and he’s going to burst inside as soon as someone opens that door.

“What are you going to do, Owen?” Samantha asks in a frightened whisper.

Dad’s expression is furious as he moves over to the hall table, opens a drawer, and pulls out a handgun.

My mouth falls open. “Dad, you can’t—”

He puts a finger to his lips and hushes me.

I watch, my heart in my mouth, as Dad moves toward the front door with the gun held behind his back. He’s going to kill Tyrant, or more likely, Tyrant’s going to see the gun and kill Dad.

Dad turns the front door handle and slowly pulls it open, and I can’t help myself. I shout a warning to Tyrant. “He’s got a gun!”

There’s no one outside. Dad turns around and glares at me. “Whose side are you on?”

I’m on the side of no one dying on my front doorstep.

Samantha points past Dad. “Owen, there’s something on the mat.”

He glances down and picks up a large, blank envelope. It seems to contain some papers or cards, and there must be quite a few sheets because the envelope is nearly half an inch thick. With a puzzled frown, Dad comes back inside, closes the door, and lays the gun back in its drawer.

Then he opens the envelope. His frown instantly turns into surprise, and then his eyes narrow. “Vivienne. What are these?” His voice sounds strange like he’s on the verge of losing his temper.

I go to his side and look at the photos, and so does Samantha. Instantly, she gasps.

As I gaze at the glossy rectangles, I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I’ve lost the ability to draw breath into my lungs. The photographs are of Tyrant.

Me and Tyrant.

Having sex in his garden last night.

There are dozens of photos.Dozens. Dad keeps going through them, one after another. In all of the photos, I’m kissing Tyrant. Wrapping my legs around him. Touching his face. Crying out in pleasure. His feral beauty has softened into adoration as he gazes at me or watches his cock sink inside me. Even the way he holds me is brutally adoring. His grasp on my thighs or my hips firm and possessive.

The last few photos are the worst. Tyrant picks me up in his arms and carries me toward the house. My arms are wrapped around his neck. Our heads are close together, and the shots are more intimate and emotional than any wedding photos I’ve seen. We’re gazing into each other’s eyes, and we look like we’re in love.

“Are you going to explain this?” Dad asks through his teeth, brandishing the photos at me.

“I…” Forming words is suddenly impossible. My skin is flashing hot and then freezing cold. “I…”

“Didheforce you as well?” Dad asks sarcastically. “Hurry up and answer, Vivienne, before you can make up a lie.”

“I’m not a liar,” I manage to whisper, but I sound guilty as hell.

“Really? Because your explanation to Samantha just now about how you got Barlow back didn’t include you spreading your legs for Tyrant fucking Mercer.”

I take a shaky breath. “I did what I had to do. I never wanted…” But I’m not a liar, and I can’t say the wordsI never wanted it to happen, because it’s not true. I wanted Tyrant so much. I still want him. If I had done as he asked, I’d be safe and warm in his arms right now instead of facing Dad’s judgment.

Stay. You won’t ever be alone with me.

I hear Tyrant’s heartfelt words in my head, and I long for his arms around me.

Dad raises his voice and steps toward me. “I’m not doing this with you again, Vivienne. This time I have proof, so don’t bother to lie to me. These photos don’t show Tyrant forcing you to have sex with him. There’s nothing forced about it. It’s just like the time you threw yourself at Lucas. Admit it.”

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