Текст книги "Push"

Автор книги: Olivia R. Keane

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Charlie couldn’t breathe right, it hurt too much. She couldn’t even scream. She was going to die.

That thought hit her, and she didn’t fight it. She couldn’t fight against anything as the needle pierced the flesh of her arm, cold liquid scorching her veins, whisking her away to a place inside her mind.

***

“Are you ready?” Griffin shoved a cup to her mouth.

Charlie nodded, swilling the last of the water he gave her to drink in her mouth. She wished it were something more potent. Swallowing, Charlie slowly exhaled, “Ready.”

Griffin positioned her sitting astride the ladder-backed dining chair. He curled her arms and legs around its wooden frame as Katherine restrained her with the duct tape once again. The hard wood offered her no solace, no reassurance, just cold inanimate indifference. Griffin traced his fingers along Charlie’s face, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear where it had escaped from her ponytail. They continued along her jaw before brushing gently across her lips. Griffin leaned in, placing a feather light kiss on her lips before pulling another chair closer, tucking it underneath himself.

Charlie tried to focus on the conversation Katherine and Griffin were having, but her mind was too shattered from whatever drug it was they had injected into her arm earlier. She heard some music playing in the background, closing her eyes she let it wash over her and for a moment, she found some stillness in all the chaos.

***

Blistering cold, ice, and latex on her face knocked her back into reality. Charlie flicked her eyelids open to see the calm concentration on Griffin’s face as he prepared her for what was to come. She struggled a bit against her restraints, the anxiety pulsing through her veins like electricity. “Stop, Griffin. Please!” She was unable to discern if she voiced her objections or if they were prisoners in her mind. It didn’t matter. The rapid, loud drumbeats drowned out whatever response Griffin issued.. Had the music changed? Charlie realized that the overpowering sound was her pulse pounding in her ears.

Griffin slid his gloved fingers into Charlie’s mouth, pulling her top lip away from her teeth. “I think we are ready.” He smiled, pressing his fingertips painfully into her flesh. “My lovely whore. I do think this will work wonders for that mouth of yours. Perhaps you’ll keep your mouth shut from now on.”

The first pass of the needle burned like fire, stealing Charlie’s breath with a gasp. Griffin drew the thread through her flesh with an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Exhale slowly.” Katherine’s voice sounded far away, muffled. Charlie scrunched her eyes closed, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that one of her gel nails peeled away from its bed.

Charlie breathed out tiny little puffs of air that flowed over Griffin’s fingers. They pushed back in her mouth, beginning the second pass of the needle. The pain worsened, spearing, piercing pain radiating out from her bottom lip as it raced along neural pathways to her ears and the hollow of her collarbone. Charlie released a high, nasal squeal, but as the thread passed through her violated flesh, the squeal muted into a mewling whimper.

An odd bubble of laughter wound its way upward through her body, escaping in a hiccup. Memories of catfish and fishing with her father unexpectedly sprang to life. I’m a fish. I’m a bloody catfish. Charlie freed slightly more maniacal giggles before Griffin clamped his hand over her face, pinching her nose, palm pressed into her mouth, crushing angry lips against teeth to focus her attention.

“Calm, girl!” Griffin spat out harshly.

The third pass of the needle came unexpectedly. Outside in, instead of inside out, and it glanced Charlie’s front teeth as it moved, curving through her throbbing lip. The drawing of the thread became barely noticeable as the tears fell slowly, her body began to grow hot and trembled.

Charlie’s mind seemed to open just then, stretching out before her like her favorite stationery store—all sorts of neatly arranged paper—parchment, hand-cut greeting cards, notebooks, pads of exquisite delicate paper as thin as tissue, stationery meant for fountain pens, sturdy cardstock capable of enduring any pen’s torture. Her OCD in reams of writing material. And she wandered. Charlie remained aware of the stabbing, pulling, shooting pain as each stitch pierced her lips.

Words held such a prominent spot in her life. Charlie loved to read, talk, and write. There was always something personal and achingly profound about the words. Words were the commerce Charlie dealt in, in her personal life and professional life. And Griffin worked today to painstakingly remove them from her world. All of them. Her pleasure, her joy, her safety net, her expression, her toolbox—all removed by a madman who had no use for them. Charlie found herself more vulnerable now than she’d ever been before. There were no words that could stop Griffin’s madness.

Finished with his work, Griffin rose from the chair, admiring his handiwork. Charlie knew she looked grotesque. Thick, black thread stitching blood red, swollen lips together, a gash crudely refashioned in Frankenstein fashion.

“You’re welcome.” Griffin grinned, stroking her hair out of her face, his touch something altogether different now. Charlie tried to cry out but the stitching held too tightly, and her lips felt twice their usual size. She ran her tongue delicately around the inside of her mouth, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

Chapter Nineteen

Declan stood in the midst of his office, gathering his belongings to head home for the day. Home to Charlotte. No matter that she wasn’t at his house, despite the trite sounding nature of the sentiment, he truly believed she had become his home. He shut the lights off, prepared to shut the door and leave work behind when his phone beckoned. He fished it from his pants pocket, sliding it on to discover two messages from her. There was an unread one from around one this afternoon.

Charlotte: Please read the manuscript ASAP. I need to give Ms. Rouseault the initial paperwork today.

And another that had just arrived.

Charlotte: Declan, I need help, please.

Declan cursed, placing his hands on his desk, bracing himself against the torrent of fear and anger that gathered inside him. Something was horribly wrong, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. Something about Charlotte’s persistence with the particular manuscript must be a clue into what was going on with her.

He noticed the manuscript sitting there. He leafed through the pages, finding only a few of them marked. Words and letters circled here and there. The proofer marks didn’t make any sense. Charlotte wasn’t a proofreader; she was a researcher. Perhaps she’s sending me a message. Quickly he retrieved a pad of paper and a pen from the desk drawer and went to work writing down the circled words and letters. When he finished, the code spelled out the message: By the time you read this, I might already be dead. She will kill me.

Fuck! Who the hell is “she?” Declan knew Ruby Rouseault must be a pen name, but it also sounded familiar, like he had heard it before. It didn’t matter at the moment. He flew out of the office door and ran solidly into Owen.

“What’s wrong?” Owen demanded. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” Declan choked out. “She’s hurt. I have to go. She’s at her house.”

“Charlotte? Wait. I’ll go with you,” Owen said grimly as he started down the hall to the bank of elevators.

Not arguing, Declan ran after him, his heart beating like a hammer.

“Fuck!” Declan clipped out.

“It will be okay. We’ll get to her. Charlotte will be okay.”

Declan closed his eyes. Despite taking care of Griffin, he should have kept Charlotte better protected, kept a man on her. What if Griffin had gotten to her?

A half hour later, the car had squealed to a stop in front of Charlotte’s craftsman home, and Declan jumped out, Owen close on his heels. The first thing he noticed when he burst through the door was the metallic smell that filled the room. His heart seized at the sight before him.

“Good God!” Declan choked out.

Charlotte lay in a heap in front of the coffee table. Blood was everywhere. It covered her face.

“Call 911,” Declan barked to Owen. God, he should have already called an ambulance, but he hadn’t been thinking. His only thought was to get to her as soon as possible.

He fled to her side, dropping to his knees, afraid to touch her. Her face was a mess, eyes swollen, blood everywhere, lips sewn together with black thread.

“Charlotte, I’m here. I’ve found you. Wake up please, my love. Please.” He was pleading with her as he placed a shaky finger to her neck to check for a pulse.

She stirred, emitting a moan.

Oh, fuck. Someone had tortured her mercilessly. Rage exploded through Declan’s chest until he couldn’t breathe. His vision dimmed, his pulse pounding almost out of his head. He was falling apart, all semblance of control shattering.

She tried to lift her right hand, and he saw she was holding something. He gently pulled it away. It was a screen shot of a picture posted to the Internet; a picture of her splayed out on his table, naked, hot wax poured onto her beautiful body. A picture he had taken for his private enjoyment. And now it was public. How the hell?

He quickly stuffed the photo into his pocket before anyone could see it. If Michaela arrived and discovered it, she would lose her fucking mind. Right now, the only thing Declan wanted to worry about was Charlotte and getting her to a hospital. He would deal with the picture later.

“Is she okay?” Owen asked as he dropped beside Declan. “My God. She’s obviously not okay. Ambulance is on the way. What the fuck happened?”

The sound of the siren approaching washed relief over Declan. “The ambulance is here, my sweet girl,” he soothed. “They’ll get you to the hospital and I won’t leave your side. Stay with me, Charlotte. I love you. I love you so much.”

The EMTs burst through the door, hurrying into the living room, moving in to assess Charlotte’s condition. Declan moved back so he wouldn’t be a hindrance to their examination.

“Diminished breath sounds on the right,” the taller paramedic reported. “Get the oxygen.”

“How bad is she?” Declan questioned.

The paramedic shook his head. “She’s a mess. A few rib fractures at the least, maybe a punctured lung, dislocated shoulder, and then there’s her mouth. We won’t be able to tell the rest until she gets examined at the ER.”

Declan went pale. The assessment was bleak, so utterly serious. The paramedics brought in a stretcher, and worked efficiently to secure the c-collar and then give her oxygen. They whisked her off and loaded her into the ambulance quickly. Declan barely had time to jump into the back before they roared away.

***

Declan arrived in the emergency room waiting area to find Michaela and Aaron being interviewed by two police officers. Aaron did his best to keep her calm, but given the situation, Charlotte’s sister was a wreck. She alternated between loud, heart-wrenching sobs and shrill screams.

Just when there seemed to be a lull in the cacophony, another sound exploded into the small, cramped room. “What the fuck did you do to Charlie?” a familiar voice roared. Declan’s head jerked up as he saw Emerson Stone standing in the entrance to the waiting area, the elevator doors closing behind him. Declan had been so immersed in the scene between the officers and Michaela that he never heard anyone walk in.

“Pearse! What have you done to my sister?” Emerson’s horrified voice filled the air as he lunged for Declan, his fist connecting with his jaw.

Declan went flying amid Michaela’s screams. He hit the tiled floor, Emerson on top of him. Emerson’s expression was murderous. Fury blazed in his eyes and he punched Declan again.

“How could you do this?” Emerson roared. “You sick son of a bitch! I can’t believe you did this to her!”

“Emerson, for Christ’s sake,” Declan bit out. “I didn’t do this. Let me explain.”

“Shut the fuck up! What the fuck is there to explain? How could you do this, Declan? How could you be so damn sadistic? How could you let things get so out of control?” Emerson raged.

“Enough! Stop it this instant! I’ll send Aaron after the cops if you won’t end this.” There was an edge to Michaela’s voice that told Declan how shaken and angry she was.

“Fine,” Emerson spoke in a stiff, formal voice as he stood back up.

“Talk to Emerson,” she whispered to Declan. “Explain. I’m not letting either one of you near her until you get this settled.”

Declan stiffly rose. “Emerson, I found her like this. I wasn’t involved in it, at least not directly. I have an idea who it might be though, and I’ll need your help to resolve this.”

“It’s true, Emerson. Declan and Charlie have been dating, but I know he would never do this to her. He’s not stupid.”

Declan was grateful he didn’t have any extra explaining to do. All that mattered right now was Charlotte. Why weren’t the doctors coming to tell them how she was doing?

***

Declan and Emerson talked for a lengthy period. He explained to Emerson how he came to know and date Charlotte.

“How is it you’re her brother?” Declan looked closer at Emerson, noting some similar features to Charlotte.

“You couldn’t have possibly known. My parents died when I was young. My mom and Charlie’s mom were sisters. Aunt Gemma and Uncle Jack took me in, raised me as their own. They adopted me but kept my last name to honor my parents.”

They both discussed their knowledge of Griffin. Declan told Emerson how he had exacted retribution on him for his past actions involving Charlotte. He told him about the club and the tattoo on Griffin’s forehead.

“I’m not sure this is his work though,” Declan relayed. “Yesterday, Charlotte met with this woman who had been pushing her to offer a publishing contract. While I admire Charlotte’s initiative in securing some new writers for our publishing house, I was concerned. The woman left bruises on her wrist. Charlotte brushed it off as her fault. She clumsily slipped on some ice in her heels and the woman gripped her wrist to keep her from falling.”

“Is it possible that the woman is out to get either one of you?” Emerson questioned him.

“I’m not sure. She used a pen name; Ruby Rouseault, so I am not even sure who she is.”

Declan kicked himself for not knowing more about who Charlotte was meeting with. It was his job to protect her, and he failed miserably.

“‘Rouseault?’ Why does that name sound familiar?”

“It does sound familiar, but I am unsure why,” Declan offered.

“Rouseault. Oh my God.” Emerson’s face grew pale. “Do you recall Madame Rouseault?”

“Fuck! Holy hell!” Declan cursed audibly, drawing an angry look from Michaela who sat in the corner of the room waiting for Aaron to return with coffee.

“Exactly. Madame Rouseault. Infamous switch from the now defunct Dominion Club. Rumor has it that her erratic brand of behavior ruined the place.” Emerson related. “Of course, you and I both know her better as Katherine.”

***

“What the fuck is going on?” Aaron demanded as he sat down with Declan and Emerson. “Mik’s going out of her mind with worry. The cops won’t tell her anything.”

Declan turned, motioning Emerson and Aaron into one of the smaller private rooms where doctors met with families.

“We have a serious problem,” Declan spoke gravely.

“What the hell happened to Charlie?” Aaron asked.

Declan held up his hand and reached into his pants pocket with the other. He pulled out the photo that Charlie clenched in her hand when they discovered her and showed it to Emerson.

Emerson’s face was a mixture of shock and rage. And then, oddly guilt. He went gray and then staggered back to sit on one of the chairs. He buried his face in his hands; the photo crumpled in his fist.

“What the hell is this?” Emerson’s vehement demand rang through the room.

“Charlotte was clutching that when I got to her,” Declan said quietly. “I have no idea how Katherine got a hold of it, or better yet how she posted it on the Internet.”

“For starters, Katherine doesn’t know a damned thing about technology. She can’t bother her pretty little mind with it and she usually has her minions handle all of the social media promotion of her image and the like,” Emerson said in a furious tone. “She had to have help. She’s not alone in this. Not by a long shot.”

“What do you know that you haven’t yet told us,” Aaron chimed in. It was obvious by the look on Declan’s face that there was much more to the story than he was relating.

“What I have to say is going to piss you off. Both of you. I thought it was behind Charlotte and me, but clearly I was mistaken.”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Emerson bit out. “What did you do Declan? How did you manage to put my sister in such danger?”

“When Charlotte and I were first together, Katherine confronted me at a gathering. She was out of her mind, spewing all sorts of garbage. Then she accused me of being in love with Charlotte and losing my edge. It hit me at the wrong time. I wasn’t ready to admit the depth of my feelings for Charlotte. In an effort to re-establish some boundaries, and prove that she was just my submissive, I set up something.”

“What sort of thing,” Emerson growled.

Declan exhaled with some effort. “Charlotte and I had discussed before my interest in showing her off to other men. I mean, not in person per se, but online. So I set up an online profile at KinkLife and uploaded some pictures. Pictures of her.”

“Son of a bitch!” Emerson cursed. “What the fuck, man? How could you do that to her? What were you thinking?”

“I showed it to Charlotte and she balked. It upset her,” Declan offered. “I took them down immediately, but apparently not soon enough.”

“Fucking seriously?” Emerson growled; rage smoldered through him like a wildfire.

“I’ll handle it. I messed up. I let Katherine know about Charlotte. I fucked up,” Declan said quietly.

“No, you had your chance to do the right thing.” Emerson’s voice whipped around the room like a ricochet bullet.

“Emerson’s right, man. Let us take care of this.”

“No. If it were Michaela or Anabelle lying in a hospital bed, would you just sit back and delegate it for to someone else?”

Emerson’s lips twisted and then he sighed. “No, I wouldn’t, but after what happened with Griffin, this is too dangerous. You got away once with taking matters into your own hands. You wouldn’t this time. Katherine Hughes has nothing to lose. She’s not going to sway under threats. She’ll give up her henchman, and then she’ll have your ass handed to you. You know how powerful her family is.”

“Who said anything about threats?” Declan asked in an even tone. “Threats serve little purpose unless you take action to back them up. I underestimated her once. I won’t make that mistake again. I have no intention of threatening the bitch, but I have every intention of taking her down.”

“Oh fuck off.” Emerson bit out. “The hell if we’re letting you take on this by yourself.”

Chapter Twenty

There were voices, or maybe just one voice. It was hard to tell because there was a ringing in Charlie’s ears she couldn’t seem to shake. But it was the pain that finally woke her. It had burrowed itself beyond the bruised, torn surface of her skin, pulling and pounding at the fibers of her muscles, sending deep currents of trauma through her body.

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a belabored moan as the pain speared through her. Charlie felt a warm, gentle hand on her forehead. Words whispered over her like a prayer. “I know it hurts. The nurse is on her way with something for the pain.”

“Open your eyes, Charlie. Please.”

She tried, but they wouldn’t cooperate. It hurt to try and force them open.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Rest. Just know that we’re all here with you and you’re going to be fine.”

Charlie desperately wanted to. She wanted to make sure the nightmare was over, that her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her. She braced herself for the pain and tried again. A small sliver of bright light blinded her, and her lids shuttered closed. She lay there, panting from the exertion. She tried again, this time readied for the bright light of the room.

At first, all Charlie could make out was a blurry haze. And then he moved into her line of vision.

“There she is. Welcome back, sis,” Emerson spoke softly.

She tried to feign a smile, but that was too painful. She lay there slowly blinking, bringing things into focus. Charlie was crushed it wasn’t Declan by her side. And it was then that she remembered what had happened. She sucked in a sharp breath. The impact of her memories agitated her. The terror, her pain, the worry that she was going to die. The tears welled.

“Charlie, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She closed her eyes as the fatigue and the pain grew. She had so many questions. She needed answers. She wanted to know how extensive her injuries were. She needed to know where Declan was.

“The nurse is here, Charlie. She’s going to give you something to ease the pain.” Emerson wiped a hand over her forehead as the nurse injected pain medication into her IV. She felt the burning sensation followed quickly by relief.

“Rest, Charlie. Go to sleep. We will all be right here when you wake.”

Charlie gave in, surrendering to the medication’s seduction.

***

“How is she?” Declan asked as he walked into the ICU waiting room. “Has she woken up yet?”

Michaela burst into tears, gripping Declan in a hug. He hated that Katherine had touched their lives. More than that, he hated that Katherine had dragged their private life into the public light of day. He was pissed off beyond belief that she perpetrated this, all to get back at him. More than that though, he was enraged that Charlotte bore the brunt of Katherine’s anger. She would pay.

Michaela, Aaron, and Declan looked expectantly at Emerson as he came into the room. None of them slept since this all began. They were too worried for her.

“Did they let you see her?” Declan asked.

“Yeah. She woke up briefly,” Emerson offered.

“Oh thank God!” Michaela cried out. “How was she doing?”

“She’s in an incredible amount of pain. They gave her something to relieve it, and she slipped back under. She’s confused. She’s frustrated. She can’t speak yet. Probably won’t be able to for days.”

***

Declan didn’t need to do much digging to find out where Griffin spent most of his time for two reasons. One, he wasn’t the most brilliant crayon in the coloring box, and two, it’s difficult to be inconspicuous when you’re sporting a rather large tattoo in the middle of your forehead. When they found him at Saints and Sinners, neither Emerson nor he was surprised to find him pulling some girl along on a leash and onto the stage. She stumbled forward, struggling to keep her balance. He ordered her to bend over, and she agreed, but you could see the fear building in her eyes. In her eyes? My God, what the hell was Natalie doing at that club with that monster?

He stomped up on stage and slammed his fist into Griffin’s jaw. Griffin slumped to the floor of the stage and screamed out his agony. Declan ignored him momentarily, more interested in what Emerson was doing.

“Emerson, what the hell are you doing?” He watched as Emerson dialed a number on his phone. “I’m calling the police so they can come arrest this motherfucker.”

Declan scooped Natalie in his arms and carried her to a private room. He brought her to a leather couch and placed her gently atop it.

“Mr. Pearse,” Natalie whimpered. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt me.”

“What?” Declan looked quizzically at her. “Ms. Ward, I’m not going to hurt you. Are you all right?” He sat next to her, looking her over to assess if her injuries required medical intervention.

“My bottom smarts,” she said.

“As well it should. Griffin’s a madman. Don’t you realize what he did to Charlotte? What were you doing with someone like that?”

“I … ” Natalie stammered. “He’s been training me as his slave. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t resist him.”

“Look at me, Ms. Ward. What do you mean training you? How did you meet him?”

“It is all so stupid really. He came in looking for Charlie one day, and then convinced me to give him her contact information,” Natalie choked out.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Declan said. “Why would you deliberately go against company policy?”

“He made me feel special at first, then he started punishing me, and when I tried to break free, he threatened me. He told me he would go directly to you and tell you that it was my idea.”

The door opened, and Natalie scrambled to get up. It was Emerson. He stood in the doorway frowning, then sat down on the couch opposite them.

“Did the police take him away yet?” Declan asked.

“Not yet. He’s being difficult and they had to subdue him,” Emerson replied.

“Good. I need to go tell them to take Ms. Ward in for questioning too. My former secretary is the one who helped Griffin find Charlotte,” Declan seethed.

“I can take her. We should go too. The detectives want some more information on how Charlotte was found at the house.”

Declan slammed his fist into the couch. “Damn it. You should have left me to handle Griffin myself. This incident will be all over the papers. They will force Charlotte to testify. She’ll have to reveal a part of her lifestyle that she won’t want public. It will be hell for her. Is that what you really want?”

“I know you could have taken care of it on your own. But do you really want that? Do you really want Charlotte to know the Declan I do? The guy with blood on his hands. The guy who isn’t so much about black and white, but doles out his punishments in those murky gray areas?”

“No. Of course not. I don’t want her touched by the gray areas I used to be immersed in. I want Charlotte clean. I want her to shine, just like she always does. I don’t want to have to talk to her about those things. You may know about them, but I don’t want Charlotte confronted with them, ever.”

“It’s too late for that. Katherine made sure of that when she kidnapped Charlie.”

Declan nodded, a little numb but relieved too. Since the attack, he’d been dreading how things would play out. He needed to keep Charlotte safe, and he wasn’t sure he could do that with Katherine in the picture.

Following Emerson out of the room, Declan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it to check as they headed down the hallway to the exit. When he glanced down at the phone his gaze met with an explicit photo of Katherine that warned if he didn’t drop what he was doing and go to her house to talk to her, the next message she sent would go to Charlotte.

“I have to go. There’s an issue at work that I have to resolve before I can head back to the hospital. Tell Charlotte I will be there as soon as I can.”

Declan didn’t give Emerson a chance to respond but stepped quickly away into the snowy evening. Once inside his car, he pulled his phone from his pocket and typed out a quick response.

Declan: I’m on my way … leave the door unlocked.

***

Katherine breezed into the hallway as Declan walked in. Her face was taut, set in angry determination. Black Martini in one hand, she shut the door quietly behind him, scowling at Declan.

“You’re late,” she sneered.

Declan stood still for a moment, contemplating his next move. When in doubt provoke the already angry bull. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Katherine?”

“She’s not right for you, Declan.” She took a sip of her martini and wandered further down the darkened hall of her house.

“What?” Declan shouted, his whole body tensing. “How the fuck do you know what’s right for me?”

“Declan, you have certain desires. Needs she can’t possibly fulfill let alone begin to understand,” Katherine said, her voice softening.

“Katherine, I’ve told you before, it’s none of your fucking business!” Declan roared.

“I remember. I let you go that day. I walked over, unfurled your fist, pried it apart, and took back a piece of my heart that has only ever belonged to you.” Katherine opened the door to her living room, walking in. “The heart is a silly, stupid, beating thing that’s only purpose is to pump blood. Yet, we seem to victimize it with personification. It doesn’t break, it doesn’t feel. It doesn’t have that power. It just beats. So I took mine back.”

“Katherine, how many of those things have you had?” Declan bit out, gesturing to her almost empty glass.

“Never mind that. Do to me what you will but know that despite the fact that I let you go, I was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Declan stepped back, gaping at Katherine in disbelief.

“I know she seems perfect for you right now. She is all youth, bright light, shiny possibility, and hope. She is your future. Her skin was without scars until recently, and she didn’t believe the world could ever be a cruel and ugly place. She’s never been sick. She will give you children. She can grow old with you.”

“Is that why you did it, Katherine? Is that why you put Griffin up to it? Because you know that all we did was fuck? That it was empty just like you are? Because Charlotte is nothing like you?”

“Love is for fools, Declan. I’m sure holding her hand and planning a future with her felt like taking that first breath.” She poured herself another drink, turning to face him. “You once called me a tidal wave. You said I was a mother fucking force of nature. But I know that nobody wants to drown. I get that. Really, I do.”

“Katherine, you’re out of your mind.” Declan blanched, staring at her in horror.

“I know when she falls asleep. and you escape, seeking the company of your scotch and cigars, your thoughts turn inward and dark like they always do. I know when the newness wears off, and it will, your thoughts will turn toward the depraved and your mind will visit that little shack out in the woods and you’ll ache for it all, everything I could give to you, those things she will never be able to give you.”

“Katherine, you’re right. Charlotte can’t give me any of those things. She doesn’t need to. She knows exactly what it means to give me the control I need, that I crave without all the depravity. Your submission was always an illusion. You always niggled away a piece of yourself because you were selfish. You didn’t want that kind of relationship.”