Page 74 of So Close

I hear his desk chair squeak as he shifts and find myself mentally noting the need for lubricant to address it, an instinctive grasp for withdrawal from the conversation. It’s both too personal and too painful.

“Up until that point, I’d thoughtIwas the issue. That I wasn’t good enough, that my prospects as a life partner were too limited for her. At that moment, I realized the reverse was true in her mind. For whatever reason, she believed I was better off without her, and she was willing to degrade us both to protect me from her.”

It takes me several seconds to frame a tactful reply. “Not many men would come to that conclusion in those circumstances.”

“Somehow, I knew – even at that moment – that she loved me. She staged a scene that had to be for my benefit, Witte. There was nothing in it for her but suffering. She didn’t understand that only I’d stop wanting her if she stopped wanting me first. As long as she loved me, I had to keep going. Can you understand that?”

“Partly, yes.” I don’t say that I wonder if she’d known the scene, as he calls it, would only deepen his desire for her. And put her at much greater risk – every man has his limits, and Mr Black’s temper can be explosive. I certainly would have nothing further to do with Danica if she were to ambush me so cruelly and deliberately. But Lily had, perhaps, more insight into Kane Black than anyone else, in addition to her study of psychology.

“Lily didn’t get it. She tried to changemyfeelings forherbecause her love was too strong to fight. And for a minute, she succeeded.” His voice sharpens into a blade that pierces me. “I’ve never felt hatred like that. Not before or since. I wanted to murder Ryan – brutally – and strangle her for wounding me that way. I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze. It took everything I had to stop myself from tearing them both apart. I remember thinking her eyes couldn’t be more dead if I killed her. She wouldn’t have fought me. She would have lain there, beautiful and vicious as a rose, while I choked her to death.”

I don’t know this man who can so casually describe murdering the woman he loves. I also don’t know the woman he’s describing. His wife would never surrender to violence. I’ve looked into her eyes, too, and saw a woman who will always fight to the death.

“Her scheme almost worked. I figured if she were that desperate to push me away, I would give her what she wanted. I turned and left. If she’d been able to hold it together until I was gone, I would have been a danger to anyone who crossed my path because I still wanted to kill something. But she couldn’t bear to see me go. She made this – I don’t know – this terrible noise. This sound of – of anguish. I can still hear it in my mind.”

I am left to imagine it as he pauses.

He heaves out his breath. “Ryan panicked, thinking he’d hurt her. I heard him begging her to tell him what was wrong as I walked out without him ever knowing I was there. She broke up with him that night and destroyed him. He’d already bought an engagement ring, hoping that would fix what was going wrong in their relationship. He ended up leaning on me in the aftermath, and it was rough. I felt like the biggest piece of shit. There I was, consoling my best friend while hiding that I was the reason he was hurting.”

“Questionable choices were made,” I offer grimly, “but you didn’t betray him.”

“The lies we tell ourselves,” he murmurs. “Can you understand love like ours, Witte? I can survive anything except losing my wife, but she would leave me so I can survive.”

Reaching up, I rub at the tension in my neck. We cannot prepare for the unknown. “If she wants you protected, she needs to be forthright about the danger.”

“Things are different now.She’sdifferent now. I’ll have more information by morning.” Rage singes his words. He’s been controlled for so long, but no longer. “And we’ll think about returning to the city tomorrow. I’m not letting a thug in a Bugatti run us out of here. This house is sacrosanct. I’ll leave it when I’m damned good and ready.”

“I urge you to stay home and indoors until then.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he says curtly. “We’ve got a lot to discuss. If someone wants her, the money, or both, I want that resolvednow. I’ve worked too hard to build this life. I’m not giving any of it up.”

Discussing the present – and what the future might hold – is somewhat of a relief. I can’t fix the past, but I can make plans for the present and the future. “We don’t know how she’s carried on the past six years or before you met. Abandoning some lifestyles can’t be done by choice. In certain situations, the only way out is to kill or be killed.”

“I’m aware of that.” There is no hesitation in his voice, no regret. He is resolved and resolute. “You understand, though, there is only one viable option for me.”

38

LILY

“It smells amazing in here.”I enter the kitchen and pause by the island. You’ve thrown out the roses, and the sea breeze, assisted by whatever you’re cooking, has fully eradicated their cloying scent.

You’re at the stove, wearing old jeans that are both comfortably loose and molded to the shape of your body. Your feet and chest are bare, your back muscles rippling as you stir whatever is in the big pot on the burner. Your phone lies on the counter by the spoon rest, steam rises from the vents of a rice cooker and Billy Joel sings “She’s Always a Woman” through the surround sound speakers – a song you once said reminds you of me.

“It’s gumbo,” you say over your shoulder, your attention on cooking.

“I love gumbo.” I rest my hand against the doorjamb with practiced nonchalance. I want to be seductive. Confident. I feign both. “But you should be wearing an apron.”

This easy, settled domesticity is very you, down to your soul. All you ever wanted was Lily as your wife and the creature comforts of a proper home.

“And miss an opportunity to entice you with my body?” You adjust your position to keep me in your sights and wink. You’ve already shaved again.

You seem relaxed and serene at the moment, and your smile lights up the room. It’s like you’ve completely wiped the flower delivery from your mind. Erasing the day isn’t so easy for me. I know I’m the source of your deepest stress and worry. It’s a cruel trick of the universe that I’m also your comfort and haven.

“I’m enticed.” You’ve trained my body to associate yours with pleasure, and addiction to that dopamine rush stirs an immediate physical reaction. On every level, I’m aware of what you can do to me and how well. My nipples strain against the black satin of my dress, visibly aroused. They’re tender from your frequent suckling, as is my mouth and sex. Previously underused muscles are sore. I’m never unaware of how your hedonistic pursuit of erotic gluttony is tailoring my body to your specific needs.

You grow very still as you register my obvious response to you, your glorious physique tense and breathless. Every muscle is defined by its tautness, turning you into a sensual work of art. Your body readies to provide the stud servicing you’ve conditioned me to crave.

“I thought you might want to return to the penthouse tonight,” I say quietly.

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