Page 64 of Betrayed

“Let me get you some water.”

“No!” As tears tracked down her face, she looked up, surprised to find him mere inches away. Although she wanted to run and hide from him, to block out and forget the unbelievable tale he was spinning about Derek, she pressed for answers. “Why now? He’s been dead for three years. Was it necessary to shatter all of my memories of a dead man after it’s over?”

“That’s just it, baby. It’s not over.”

When he raised his hand to touch her cheek, she stepped back, knowing if he did, she’d fall apart. Through watery eyes, she watched a shadow of pain cross his face. Blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay and her emotions from completely overflowing, she brusquely demanded, “What do you mean it’s not over? Is he spying from the fucking grave?”

“There’s no point in getting nasty. Come sit and I’ll explain further.”

“I’d rather stand.”

He frowned at her cool tone but having dealt her a major blow, he decided to look past it, evidently, and continued with his story.

“Derek was smart, and he covered his tracks well. No one suspected he was behind any of this until after his death. That’s when mistakes started happening.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, a sudden pain behind her eyes bringing her hands to her head. She swayed slightly as she rubbed her temples. “Nothing about this makes sense.” Abruptly, she swung to face him. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m MI6. The secrets sold were British weapons technology, agents were killed, other lives are at risk. They sent me to investigate. Your government is working with us because this happened on US soil.”

“MI6? Like James Bond? Oh my god.” She gripped her stomach and leaned her forehead against the glass. “You’ve been playing me from the beginning.”

“That’s not true.” He reached for her.

As quickly, she recoiled from his touch, taking several steps to get away from him, but she came up against the windows. Having nowhere else to retreat, she folded her arms like a shield in front of her, hoping he would get the message. She didn’t want his comfort, nor did she welcome his touch.

“You expect me to believe you just happened upon the club I was a member at for a year, three hours away from where I live, the center of your investigation, and by sheer coincidence you formed a connection with me, your prime suspect’s widow?”

“You went by Mari and used your maiden name. I didn’t know who you were until weeks in, I swear.”

She cast him a frosty glare. “Why don’t I believe you? How can I believe anything you’ve said?”

“Because it’s true. Think, Mari. When we were starting out, how did I lie? We shared very little, our names, our desires. We played,minou, and became attached, as simple as that.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your kitten,” she snapped. “You said you didn’t lie when we were starting out, but you have since then. Just last night—” Her voice broke, and she had to take a deep breath to finish. “You said you loved me.”

“That also was the truth.”When her eyes shot to his, he corrected himself. “It is the truth.” He moved toward her, stopping when she flinched and pressed herself flat against the window. “I wanted to reveal who I was, but I couldn’t. Not with you as a suspect.”

“Me! What have I done?”

“You came into a great deal of wealth, which put you immediately on the radar.”

“I’m guilty by inheritance? That’s a stretch, surely.” Her mind was in a whirl, trying to assimilate all he had said and accused Derek of doing, and now he was pointing the finger at her? Her stomach churned, ready to rebel.

She had to get some air and have time to think, but first, she had to get away from Arturo, who had used her.

“I need to go.”

“We’re not done.”

“Yes. We are.”

She moved to the door, but without support, her rubbery legs wouldn’t hold her and she lurched forward, catching herself on the back of the couch. Her hand flew to her forehead as though she could physically stop her mind from spinning. Not only was the influx of information too much to absorb, but worst of all, if it were true, it meant she didn’t know the first thing about the man she’d been married to for eighteen years.

Fingers curled around her upper arms, as he came up behind her. She stiffened at his touch and tried to pull free, but he was having none of it. One arm slipped around her waist, as inflexible as iron, while he guided her to a seat.

“Sit,” he ordered in an implacable tone that made it clear she had no choice but to obey.

She did so because she was afraid if she didn’t, she would fall at his feet. It ended up a close call as she collapsed onto the couch with a little bounce.

---