My laughter ricochets around the room like sharp shards of glass. “I don’t remember making that appointment.”
“I’ve made you happy, haven’t I?” He takes a step, and I hold up my hand like a stop sign. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. Safe.”
“And tied to you, at whatever cost.”
A smile pulls at his lips, but he doesn’t give in. “Well, yes.”
“These last weeks, I’ve been happier than I’ve ever been, but the means don’t justify the end when they include lies and manipulation.”
“I tried to persuade you to give us a chance, remember? I’d pursued you for months—got on my knees and begged.”
“Was I asleep when this happened?” I ask, leaning back against the wall. I don’t want to sit—sitting feels like giving in—but I’m not sure how much longer my body will hold me upright.
“You were either begging for more or invoking the name of God. I tried, Isla. I tried to get you to see, but you refused me at every turn. Had there been a choice, I would’ve done this another way. A better way, if you’d allowed it. I would’ve taken you on dates, trips to the theater, weekends away. I would’ve won you fairly. Properly. Remind you why you fell in love with me while I watched you fall all over again. But you wouldn’t meet me halfway. You fought me at every step, refused my every attempt, except when it came to fucking.” So much venom in that word. “Oh, you were happy to fuck me,” he adds scathingly, “as long as no one found out. I was tired of being your dirty little secret. I wanted more. You left me no choice.”
“So it’s my fault?” I ask with an unhappy laugh. “I did this to myself? I tied Tom to criminals and—”
“That greedy fucker did that all himself!”
“You passed him on to someone who works for you. You did that.”
“That was just business, no scheming involved. But rest assured, had it occurred to me, I would’ve used him to get to you in a heartbeat.”
“But you did.”
“Not then,” he utters, his expression stark. “I thought I still had a chance with you, fair means, not foul. I thought you’d come around. I didn’t plan for him to default. He did that and left you open to manipulation.”
“You used my fear to get what you wanted.”
“No, I used your need to do what’s right, always to the detriment of yourself.”
“And Sandy?” I’m almost too afraid to ask.
He rolls his shoulders as though attempting to loosen tight muscles. “That,” he eventually says, “I regret.”
“So you do have a conscience. A heart.”
“I gave you my heart!” he roars.
I shake my head, refusing to hear this. “You made my brother a part of your manipulation plan?”
“You give me too much credit.” His sudden smile seems almost weaponized. “It was the mistake of an idiot. I just… ran with it.”
“You made me think my brother was a murderer,” I accuse, my voice low and full of passion. “You made me think—”
“Did you think any less of him? Even after what that svoloch' did to you.”
“I got an email from him,” I answer instead. “From Giles. Right before he seemed to disappear. His family said he’d gone to South America.”
“He certainly went south.” He makes a careless gesture. My body seems to know what’s coming, but my head refuses to process it.
“His father died not knowing what happened to him, Niko. The people who loved him spent years wondering, just as I’d spent years wondering. Why would he run off when he heard Sandy was going to break his legs? Ridiculous, no, running off because of an empty threat?”
“The threat was real enough.”
His gaze burns with something strange yet not unfamiliar. Something I once saw on my brother’s face.
“No.”
“The day after it happened, I asked Alexander what he was going to do about it because it was clear something was to happen. He told me he was going to break the man’s legs. He was quite specific when I asked for the details. Did he plan on breaking one leg or two? What did he plan to use?”
“What a strange conversation that must’ve been.” The words burble out on a laugh that doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. “What did Sandy decide on, hypothetically speaking?”
Niko settles his blue gaze on me as a snake begins to coil itself around my innards. I feel suddenly flushed yet cold, and the longer it takes him to speak, the stronger this urge is to press my hands to my ears. To open the door and run.
“Whatever you thought, Isla, you read the news. His body was found. He’s dead.”
“Yes, I know.” I swallow back a sob that isn’t for Giles.
“Ask me.” Though his expression has barely changed, he seems infinitely graver somehow, the muscles in his upper arms tautening under the fine cotton of his shirt.