Page 56 of Coercion

I gulp, staring at his hands as if I can imagine them curling up already, and then I remind myself that Preston isn’t like that. That he’s kind, at least, kind to me. That I can trust him.

But can I? Can I truly trust any of them?

“You’re trembling.” He murmurs.

I glance up, meeting those concerned eyes. “I’m just tired.” I lie. I don’t want him to know what I’m thinking, I don’t want him to realise how conflicted I feel.

“Then let’s get you to bed.” He replies as if the only thing in the world that matters to him is me.

I take his offered hand, I walk silently beside him and when we slip under the covers, I let him hold me, I let him seek whatever it is he needs in my body.

Perhaps this is what a normal marriage is meant to feel like. But Preston right now, he seems so different from the Mafia monster I’ve come to expect.

Preston right now feels so safe.

And I don’t know how to deal with it.

How to process it.

I lie awake, telling myself that this is part of the plan, that it’s all coming together. I’m seducing him, turning him to my side, but I’m not sure that’s all of what’s happening. I can feel my walls starting to ease. I can feel something inside me, something changing, altering, and truth be told, it’s scaring the shit out of me.

I don’t want to like Preston.

I don’t mean that in a horrible way, but if I fall for him, if I let myself truly trust him, then all I’m doing is opening myself up to danger, to heartbreak, to more pain.

It’s better if I can remain as I am, with a heart so broken from trauma that I’m not capable of true emotions. At least, not positive ones.

When I eventually fall asleep, I feel like I drift from one nightmare to another. Nothing too awful mind, just enough to torment me.

I dream that I’m running, racing, desperate to catch up with Jett but he’s moving too fast and there’s no way I can. Behind us are those same gunmen. But as I glance back, I see him, I see my father, I see him alive.

I see him trying to escape and then, I see Gunnar.

I see him raising a gun, taking aim, and that bullet flies through the air, it obliterates my father’s face and I’m screaming, collapsing onto the grass, falling back into that awful pool of his blood.

I wake with a jolt.

I’m not in the bed, I know that much.

The rug beneath my knees is so plush, so soft. I squint, and with horror I realise exactly where I am, what room I’ve unwittingly entered; Preston’s office.

I gulp, trying to get to my feet as a voice in my head screams at me to move, to get out.

If Preston finds me here in the middle of the night he’ll think I’ve been snooping, he’ll think I’ve…

My panic turns to something incomprehensible as a shadow moves, as a figure steps through the doorway, and with horror, I realise it’s too late.

Hehasfound me.

And I’m in so much trouble now.

Preston

She’s trembling, whimpering, shaking her head like I’ve just caught her red-handed.

Only, it’s more than obvious what happened, even if I hadn’t woken up as she slipped from the bed, even if I hadn’t followed her the entire way, in her sleep-addled state.

“I didn’t, I didn’t.” She whispers over and over like I’m about to beat her senseless.

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