Page 15 of Dirty Little Secrets
He laughs. A short, humorless sound. “Leaving? Where the hell are you going?”
I rise from the chair. My voice stays calm, even though my pulse pounds. “Does it matter?”
“You’re being dramatic.” He steps closer. “What brought this on? That little birthday stunt? The dinner?”
“This has been coming for a while.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. And deep down, you know I do too.”
His mouth tightens. “You’re just mad I didn’t buy you something for your birthday. Is that it? You want me to run out and grab a handbag so you’ll stay?”
“This isn’t about a handbag.”
“Then what do you want?”
I don’t answer right away. Because I thought he would not give a shit and tell me to leave.
“I want to stop pretending,” I say finally.
His eyes narrow. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No. I’m fixing one.”
He steps closer, voice rising. “You think this is easy for me? You think I haven’t sacrificed helping you? There are thousands of women who would kill to be in your position right now but I want you. “
“I’m not doing this,” I say, reaching for my suitcase.
He grabs my wrist. Not hard, but enough to make me freeze.
I clench my teeth. “Let go.” He doesn’t. “I said, let go.”
His grip tightens, and for the first time, I feel fear. Real fear. The crazy look in his eyes has me frozen in place. “Don’t walk out that door,” he growls.
My stomach twists. I yank my arm free and take a step back, dragging the suitcase.
“Don’t be stupid,” he warns his tone softening. Like it would make a difference. There is nothing he could say or do that would make me stay.
“I need to leave,” I say.
He moves toward the counter, hand sweeping across it. A vase shatters. Pieces fly. I haul my suitcase and bolt for the door.
I don’t stop to look back. I don’t check to see if he’s following.
I just run down the hallway to the stairs. It’s ten flights but the adrenaline gives me the strength I need. My heart is pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest. Cold fear shoots down my spine as the last steps get closer. And closer. Hoping he won’t catch up. It feels like a horror movie and I’m a homicidal maniac’s next victim.
When I burst through the exit and hit the sidewalk, the cold night air hits me like a wall of ice. My lungs burn taking lungfulamounts of air in my starved lungs. I don’t risk looking back afraid that he’ll be right behind me.
I flag the first cab I see. A pulls hard to the right and stops. I don’t hesitate to open the door holding my suitcase like it’s a lifeline.
As I collapse inside, the driver glances at me in the rearview. “Everything okay, miss?”
“Just drive.”
He nods and pulls away.
My chest is rising and falling with every breath. Only then do I glance down at my arm when I feel something wet and sticky. Blood trickles from a thin cut but I don’t feel any pain. The adrenaline still runs through my veins because I feel nothing but relief.
