Page 63 of Sins & Secrets

I can’t believe I even asked him that.Deny it. Please deny it. Tell me I’m a fool. And this, whatever this is, it’s something that’s already over and never happened.

Mason stands up straight, giving me enough space so that my breath can come back to me, but my lungs refuse to fill until he answers me.

“They think they can do whatever they want,” Mason says, still standing over me as he snatches the paper from where it lays on the floor. I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it.

No.That’s not what he should be saying right now.

“Your husband wasn’t a good man,” Mason adds lowly, his eyes piercing me before flicking back to the paper. He crumples it in his fist as a cold sweat spreads across my skin.

“No.” It’s all I can say. “You didn’t.” I try to say more but it’s in vain as my throat dries up and constricts. I don’t know if it’s the shock or if I’m just that pathetic. I didn’t fall for a murderer. Mason couldn’t?—

“I did.” Mason’s confession makes me light-headed, and a sickness churns in my gut.

My heart twists with a pain that’s unbearable as I crawl away quickly, trying to escape. I slip against the ground, crashing hard to the cold, unforgiving floor.

“No!” I scream at him, leaving a strangled cry to linger between us. It’s only then that I even register I’m crying.

I try again to run, managing to get to my feet this time and the foyer is so close as I stumble out of the kitchen. I call out for help, although I doubt anyone could hear us. Not here inside Mason’s home. I practically slam into the front door, but Mason’s right behind me.

With one hand on the door and one on the knob, his hard body presses against mine, trapping me between him and my only escape.

His large body cages me in. I’m left facing the door, barely able to stand or breathe. “You were never supposed to know,” he whispers. I shrink beneath him, the weight of the reality crashing down on me. “I’m sorry.”

I’ve fallen in love with my husband’s killer. I’ve slept with him and given him everything.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Jules.” His warm breath sends shivers down my back as he adds, “But I can’t let you leave.”

JULIA

The only thing you need to worry about is remembering my name. Just my name and what I've done to you tonight.

Mason whispered those words so close to my ear, sending a shiver of want through my body. It was everything I desired when I met him. He made that promise to me the first night, and I so easily fell into his bed.

I’d been so desperate to feelanythingbut the heartache and misery I’d succumbed to.

If only I could take it back.

If only I’d known this man was the cause of my pain.

Anger seethes inside me as I stare at him across the other side of his bedroom, where he’s sitting in the corner. His elbows rest on his thighs as he hunches over the edge of the reading chair with his head in his hands. His fingers run back and forth along the back of his head as if there’s a thought inside his mind he can’t quite reach.

He won’t look at me; he merely stares at the ground in complete silence. All the while I’m shattered, and with every minute that passes I feel the broken pieces more and more.

My body is restless and my eyes burn with a desperate need to cry, but I have nothing left.

I try to scoot my exhausted body up the bed to soothe my sore arms, but the rope tied around my wrists tightens with the sudden pull, chafing me. I wince and suck in a breath through clenched teeth; my shoulders are screaming in pain.

Hours have passed since I found out the truth. Hours spent restrained to this bed. When I wouldn’t stop screaming and fighting him, clawing at him and trying to escape his strong grip, he tied me up.

It’s been only minutes since he’s come back into the room, though. Minutes since he’s opened that door and let his eyes rest on me. I’m pathetic, weak and completely at his mercy. Captive to a man I loved who hid a secret so dark and corrupt it’s ruined me. I’ll never be the same. There’s no way to recover.

Ticktock.Ticktock.

It’s only been minutes since he lowered himself into the chair without speaking a word to me, I remind myself. He sits in a chair I brought from my home to his. A chair I’d cried countless tears in after my husband died.

And yet he says nothing. It’s the silence that kills me.

“I hate you.” The words slowly scrape their way up my sore throat. They’re barely audible, since my voice is so raspy and weak from all the screaming.

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