I have no idea where he’s gone, but fuck waiting around here for him to get back and discover that I know everything he’s been hiding from me.
“You’re mine.”His words from last night hit me like a freight train. “You have no idea what you’ve just done, do you?”
Another wave of nausea hits me.
That’s why he didn’t want to fuck me.
If he didn’t, then he’d have an out. But now we’ve… now we’ve… I heave again, unable to process this overload of information.
All I know is that I need to get out of here now.
I need to get away from him.
My husband.
I pull on a pair of his boxers and sweats, tugging the strings almost as tight as they’ll go around my waist to keep them up.
My boots are where I placed them as I tidied up, and I shove my feet into them angrily.
My entire body trembles with undiluted fury, the image of that signed wedding certificate as clear in my mind as if I’m still sitting in the bathroom, staring at it.
My breathing is ragged as I rip through the drawers of the cupboard by the front door in the hope of finding his key collection.
The one for his Ferrari is sitting on the top, and I quickly locate the Maserati one. But they’re not what I want.
“Yes,” I hiss when I wrap my fingers around the Kawasaki key and run from the flat, not even bothering to close the door behind me.
Fuck him. He deserves to have his fancy penthouse burgled after all this.
The lies. The deceit.
“Devious fucking cunt,” I hiss to myself as I wait for the lift to start descending.
All the late-night visits, the tracking, listening to me openly bleed out over my mum the other night. All of it was a fucking game.
When was he going to tell me?
Was he ever going to tell me?
And more importantly… How? Why?
Why the fuck are we married? What’s the point? What is he getting out of this?
Thoughts are still flying around my head at a million miles an hour as I emerge in the underground car park.
Only when I step through the doors, I realise that I’m not alone.
The beep of a car locking cuts through the silence before a middle-aged man wearing—I squint, not believing my eyes—his pyjamas, and carrying what I guess is a medical bag with his phone to his ear, rushes to the other side of the garage. To the door that Daemon emerged from last night.
I know I should get on Theo’s bike and get the hell away, but suddenly, my need for some answers gets the better of me and I find myself following.
I hide in the shadows, watching as he makes his way through to another set of doors.
He clearly doesn’t have permission to enter, because he has to wait for the locks to be disengaged. I can only assume that the person on the other end of the phone is allowing him access.
I know from listening to the guys’ conversations that there’s a basement gym in this building, but something tells me this man isn’t here for his daily workout. Whatever this is, I’d put money on it being linked to Theo’s mysterious middle-of-the-night call.
I rush to slip through the door behind him. I might have had access to Theo’s flat, but I have no reason to believe he’d give me access to everything.