Page 86 of Ruin Me

Without answering, I bent down and threw her over my shoulder.

“Kent! Put me down.” She wiggled until I almost lost my grip and dropped her.

In response, I spanked her once as I carried her to the bedroom. “You’ve more than earned a punishment for the shit you pulled behind my back, and as God is my witness, you will remember this lesson for the rest of our lives.”

I dropped her on the bed.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? You’re out of jail, I’m safe, and the person who wanted to harm me is locked up.”

I flipped her onto her stomach and dragged her pants and panties over her ass and down her legs. The first hit caused her butt to jiggle in delicious ripples.

“Kent!”

“You promised you wouldn’t be reckless.”

“I wasn’t?—”

Spank.

“Ow! If I had known he was a murderer, I wouldn’t have broken into his place. Probably,” she muttered the last word as if I wouldn’t hear.

Smack.

“Why are you punishing me for trying to save you?” The first sob broke from her, halting my hand in mid-air.

I spun her onto her back. “Madison, I have an obscene amount of money at my disposal, which I can use to pay people to risk their lives. Why do you think I wouldn’t hire someone who specializes in covert operations to ensure your safety? What do I have to do to get it through your head that your life means more to me than jail?”

“I’m sorry.” Tears spilled from her eyes, and she launched herself into my arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you first about the plan, and I’m sorry I went because I was terrified the whole time and when I saw the pictures and the file with my name and I realized he intended to add me to his victims—” Violent sobs broke from her, cutting off her manic apology.

As her body shook mine, I realized she’d been holding all this in for my benefit. Instead of the unaffected role she played, she’d been deeply traumatized and the spanking didn’t help. I hugged and pressed her body closer.

“I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whispered reassurances while rubbing her back and comforting her as she wept.

This wasn’t her usual outpouring after a punishment I administered and the longer she cried, the worse I felt for forcing her confession this way. As she clung to me, I rearranged our bodies to lie on our sides.

“Forgive me. Please, don’t hate me. Don’t hate me. Please.” Over and over, she repeated the phrase.

Her distress broke something in me. No amount of patting and rubbing circles into her back eased either of our torment.

“Little bunny, nothing you do could make me withhold my forgiveness from you. Can you forgive me for pushing you too far?”

Madison’s grip around my neck tightened. “Not your fault.”

I pressed my nose into her hair and swallowed the ball of guilt choking me. I wasn’t a good man. I didn’t deserve her absolution, but I’d take it. Fuck, I’d rejoice in anything that would return the look on her face that told the world she felt safe with me.

Hours passed with her face pressed against my neck, dampening my skin until a chill ran in my body as her tears cooled against me.

I refused to let go or push her away. She’d latched onto me with a desperation I didn’t understand but I recognized the anguish in the tightness of my embrace. I feared I’d broken something special between us and I wouldn’t know until she looked at me again. When she fell asleep, I separated our bodies, tucked her under the covers, and placed Tyger beside her. He looked toward me, then Madison. Without a meow, he crawled between her arms and began purring, making his preference known.

With my thoughts in a jumble, I ambled around the penthouse but nothing stuck and I decided to keep my hands busy. I walked into Madison’s office and saw the files she had yet to box. I filled out what I could of her archiving form and I piled the boxes by the door in preparation for the storage company to pick them up. On my way back to double-check I had gotten everything, a note torn from a pad caught my eye.

It had a list of questions. From what I gathered, they were subjects Madison wanted to research, like erotomania. Her notes for the questions she found answers to explained a lot that I ignored or took for granted because Omar did a great job as my executive assistant. One symptom people diagnosed with erotomania exhibited was sending intimate to unhinged communications to their obsessions.

I recalled receiving a letter from an anonymous woman declaring her love for me. After the first unhinged piece of mail Omar showed me, I’d told him to trash them in the future, and I’d never seen another cross my desk since.

If I’d recognized the pattern earlier, could I have saved the women who died? Then I remembered, Carol didn’t kill them. Hal did. His motive remained a mystery to me. Had he revealed his reasons to the cops?

I continued reading Madison’s notes until I saw her question about the name I saw on the third empty file folder. My mind made many connections to too many instances and an urgent need drove me. I didn’t care what time it was. I was sick of not having answers.

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