Page 25 of Sweet Lies

She says nothing, but she steps into the bathroom after several seconds, and I hear the water start. Letting out a slow breath, I sit on the edge of the bed, raking my hands through my hair. Then I move to the window, shoving the blinds to the side, and stare out. What am I going to do? God help me. Maybe I should pray to the devil instead, considering that’s the direction I’m going. At this point, I’ll try them both and hope one of them takes pity on me.

After a few minutes, though not long enough to get my mind wrapped around this latest development, she steps out of the bathroom in the same clothes, but her hair is wrapped in a towel. That simple act makes her appear younger—that and the makeup being removed.

“What happened to you?” The words slip out.

She appears startled at my question. “I—” She stops as if trying to get her voice to work. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time. Start,” I order, aware that she’s stalling.

Instead of answering, she slides next to me on the bed, her lips close to my ear. “It can wait,” she mutters. “Let’s do something more fun. I can make your night worthwhile,” she says, moving her hand up my leg.

I grab it. “Stop. What I want is for you to speak.”

“But my lips can do so much more than talk. Why don’t you want to find out?”

Pushing her away with more force than necessary, I stand. “I can see this conversation is going to have to wait till morning when your head is on straight. Go to bed, Rebecca. If you try anything, we’ll have a problem. I expect you to be here in the morning.”

Once more, she tries reaching for my waistband, and I step back. “Enough!” I roar, and she recoils. “Stop acting as if I don’t know you. God, Bec, what happened to you?”

I regret asking the question as shadows dance across her eyes.

“Go to bed, Bec. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

For the first time tonight, defiance enters her eyes. But only for a second before she slides back against the pillows. That look in her eyes tells me there’s still some fight in her. I can bring her back. She’s changed, but with change comes strength. We need to tap into that.

* * *

Her body quivers as she sleeps. Even in her dreams, she’s flinching from invisible men. Starting at the ceiling, I try to figure out what I’m going to do with her. I finally snap and decide to wake her up when I catch her mouth opening wide in a silent scream.

My hand moves to her shoulder, but I immediately move it away. I’m not one for kind words. There’s nothing I could say to help her anyway. Given what she’s obviously been through, no one can help her with words. No, it will be a silent battle within herself for life. She’ll have to decide if this new version of herself is something she can come to terms with or not. No one can convince someone else to live again after a thousand deaths.

What would I say anyway? I have no words of comfort to give. I flip on the large TV, and voices invade the room. The sound prompts her to jerk awake. Her eyes are wide as she searches, not realizing the voices are emanating from the TV. Her knees shoot to her chest, and her hands grip the blankets.

“It’s just us,” I say, staying still so as not to unnerve her more. “What happened to you?”

Her mouth opens and closes, and I wonder if she’ll respond. Instead, her legs stretch out, and she lies back down, facing away, forcing my attention back to the late-night infomercials—time ticks by as I watch a never ending nonstick pan commercial.

“They died.”

At first, I think she’s sleeping, but then I realize she’s wide awake. Not daring to move, I wait for her to continue.

“In the explosion. They died. There was nothing I could do to help.”

“I know. How are you alive?”

“Sebastian.”

“What does Sebastian Regio have to do with this?” He would have been under orders to make sure they were all dead. His father would have had his head if he found out he’d let her live.

“Everything and nothing,” she mutters. “He used me to pay off his debts. He sold me to the highest bidder.”

Ice quickly replaced my fury. “Who did he sell you to? Who do you work for now?”

“There were too many of them. I lost most of their names over time. Their faces started blending. One no better than the last, all taking whatever they wanted. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice gets quieter with each word.

Rage burns through me. My hands become fists, and I try to cool my temper so as not to scare her anymore. I wasn’t a calm man, and her story makes me long to rip their heads off. “You’re right. There was nothing you could have done, Bec. They would have killed you.”

“Death would have been an improvement,” she coughs out, kicking free of the covers.

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