Page 2 of A Fine Line

I’ve been on her balcony every night this week, and she hasn’t noticed. Sometimes, she comes out in the evening, and I lean against the wall right behind the open door, but still, she hasn’t noticed me. A few times, it appeared as if she knew someone was there and I was going to be caught, but then she’d shrug and shake her head with a laugh and go back inside.

Surprisingly, she hasn’t had any visitors. Nor has she left her apartment. Food has been delivered. And as far as I can tell, she’s had no contact with the outside world—no phone or computer. She reads books, watches television, and does half-ass exercises, but mostly, she stares off into space.

Now, I’ve seen enough to know she’s been up here living in her high-rise luxury while a friend of mine lies in her grave, and the injustice of it all boils my blood.

Maybe if we had never met before, maybe if she was just another nameless face, I wouldn’t take it so personally. But to me, it is personal.

And I’m tired of waiting.

She always closes her balcony doors but doesn’t bother locking them, which makes sense, given it’s not an easily attainable area. I wish I could say it had been more difficult for me to get up here than it was, but frankly, anything’s easy if you have the mind for it.

I wait for her to leave the living room, then slowly make my way after her. So far, she has run the same routine, day after day, and it appears that tonight will be no different.

She disappears into the bathroom in the main hallway leading to the bedrooms, a habit I find off, considering she has a very nice ensuite bathroom that she rarely uses. I also find it odd that she always closes the bathroom door and locks it, but I suppose there’s a story behind it.

Done hiding, I lean against the wall next to the bathroom door. The door opens, and she exits the bathroom, so preoccupied with whatever is on her mind that she doesn’t see me.

She turns down the hallway toward her bedroom, walking a few steps, and then she stops, her head tilting in concentration as she listens. I don’t move an inch—I don’t even breathe. Instead, I wait to see what she’ll do, and after a few moments, she slowly turns, so she’s standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes focused on my face.

She says nothing, but the look on her face is an odd mixture of resignation and sadness but no fear.

This pisses me off even more, that I went so wrong in my handling of her that she doesn’t even fear me because she should fucking fear me. She should fear for her life for her deceit and malice. I scowl at her, and she winces minutely, but I see it.

I walk toward her, and she doesn’t move, her eyes never leaving my face as I lean in close and whisper, “She’s dead, you know. All because of you.”

She flinches at my words, her sadness changing to regret, but that’s not good enough for me because no amount of sadness or regret changes the fact that her actions lead to the death of someone I cared about. As if I’m supposed to believe anything about her, given her ability to lie and pretend.

I move a little closer, asking a little louder, “Was it worth it? Did you get what you wanted?”

She frowns, stepping back and narrowing her eyes at me as she hisses, “Are you fucking kidding me? I never wanted any of this.”

I snort, my lips twisting as she tries to step away from me. I reach a hand out and grab her by the hair at the back of her head, yanking it until she gasps in pain. With my other hand, I stroke along her neck as I ask, “Did you do the same thing to Darius that you did to me? Distract him with your body to hide your fucking lies?”

She pulls against my grip, but it’s unrelenting, so she stops and sputters, “Of course not. You’re fucking crazy!”

I laugh at her humorlessly, almost cruelly, and reply, “Oh, I’m fucking crazy, sweetheart. You seemed to have forgotten that fact when you decided to try to pull one over on me. As if I’d let you get away with it.”

A glimmer of annoyance passes over her features, and then, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. “I didn’t forget. How could anyone forget how insane you are? Maybe I just don’t fucking care.”

I tighten my hand in her hair until she flinches again, but there’s a little spark in her eyes that sends a flare of heat down my spine. I turn us, pushing her back against the wall, pressing right up into her until her breath hitches, then I skate my nose along her jaw to her ear. “Still playing games, huh? Do you think you can distract me again with that hot body and beautiful face? Do you really believe that I’d be duped twice by you?”

“I didn’t dupe you, Tony,” she says breathlessly. “I have never duped you.”

I give her a little shake, my fury renewed that she’d attempt to lie to me again. As if she thinks I’m so fucking stupid that I’d fall for it twice. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Fool me once, that’s all you’re going to get.”

I release my grip on her throat, stroking my hand down her front, reveling in the catch in her breath as my hand caresses over her breast and down her stomach. I cup between her legs, feeling the unmistakable heat there, and I curse. “Your body tells me you like being in trouble. Do you like the danger? Do you like knowing you can use your body as a weapon?”

Her hands come up, and she pushes at my chest as she whispers, “No. Never.”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me,” I spit out, my hand pressing between her legs more firmly, my palm grinding against her clit. Her hands move down, gripping my wrist and attempting to pull me away, but I’m stronger. I yank her head back again, my lips and teeth going to her neck. At first, she freezes, the shudder going down her body giving me a little thrill of victory that I’m correct in my assessment of her deceitful ways.

I push closer, consumed by anger and bitterness that she managed to play me so perfectly that I missed all the signs that she was a two-faced viper.

It takes me a few moments to realize that she’s no longer emitting breathless moans. She’s gone completely lax in my arms, her face turned away. My hands are still in her hair and between her legs, my gaze fixed on the hot trail of tears on her cheek as she whispers, “Stop it. Please. Please stop.”

I remove my hand from between her legs and tighten my grip in her hair, forcing her to look at me as I say, “Is this what you do? Feign victimization to get your way? Pretend you don’t want it long enough that you can turn the tables?”

Her face twists with emotion, and suddenly, her hands are fisted in my shirt, and she screams, “No!” Then she yanks on me and pushes me away as if she’s trying to shake me as she comes back even louder, “No!”

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