Page 53 of Marry Lies
“Isn’t there anything you’re scared of?”
I shrug. “Not really. I’ve already lived through my worst nightmare,” I add without thinking.
Her lips part slightly as her eyes wander over my neck—right over my scar.
Fuck.
I adjust my collar, clearing my throat.
“How did it happen?” she asks gently.
I press my lips together. “I don’t like talking about it.”
She frowns. “Wonderful. We can add it to the list of secrets you’re keeping from me.”
If you only knew…
Anger flares through me as I stand up straighter. Clenching my jaw, I walk toward the door of the kitchen.
“I’m happy to talk about anything you’d like, but that is one topic that’s off-limits. Is that understood?”
She doesn’t back down. Instead, she just stares at me.
I don’t like it when she looks at me like that—like she can read my thoughts.
It feels like she’s examining me under a microscope.
“Have a good day, Estelle,” I grit out, intending to leave her there so I don’t say anything hurtful.
She follows me out of the kitchen, and I sigh as I turn around near the main library.
“You can’t keep pushing me away, you know. We’ll never get to ten if you refuse to let me in on your secrets. I don’t need to know everything, but I should probably know how my husband got that scar on his neck, or, while we’re on the subject of secrets, if my husband is hiding dead bodies in that bloody cellar—”
I stalk to where she’s standing and grab her elbow, seething. She’s so fucking infuriating. Pushing, pushing, pushing. Alwayspushing. And she’s so goddamn gorgeous doing it that I forget to be irritated half the time.
My lips curl back as I glare at her. “Like I said, I have been very generous thus far in this marriage of convenience we seem to have gotten ourselves into,” I growl. “But I promise you, keep pushing me and I dare you to see what happens, Estelle.”
“You mean the marriageyougot us into by lying to a person I work with,” she bites back, nostrils flaring.
I take an intimidating step closer. “I didn’t force you to agree,” I grit out.
She considers me for a minute. “Didn’t you, though?” she asks softly. Her expression crumples slightly before she takes a step back and looks down at the floor. “Have a good day at work, Miles.”
I watch her walk away, unsure if I should say anything—apologize, tell her everything I’m hiding from her, kiss her…
The guilt might eat me alive before I have the chance.
Sighing, I run a hand over my face before stalking to the front door.
It’s not like anyone will think it’s weird that I’m in the office before seven.
It just opens my eyes further to the fact that I can’t have meaningful relationships in life, even if I want to.
And not just because of my physical scars.
But because of my psychological ones, too.
CHAPTERTWELVE
