It Pains Me (Betrayal #5)

5. Astrid

5

ASTRID

I was back at home, in the house that had been ours for years. It felt the same as it always had…but also like a foreign land. Bolton remained at home instead of returning to work, so he was attentive and present, helping me cook in the kitchen, sitting on the couch with me while I read and he watched TV.

He was stuck to me like glue, more affectionate than he’d ever been, visibly happy that I had decided to come home.

But I didn’t mirror his happiness. I was a glass jar full of cold fog. It swirled endlessly, never physical in form but taking up the entire space, nonetheless. Numb was a good way to describe me. But that was a good way to be, because if I was numb, then I couldn’t feel anything—good or bad.

I sat across from him at dinner, my eyes on the food he’d made that I only ate to be polite. My appetite had never really returned.

“Astrid?”

I looked up at him.

“I found a good therapist in town. Would you want to try couples therapy?”

I blinked several times as I looked at him. “Why?”

Now, he blinked, as if he hadn’t expected that answer. “You still don’t seem like yourself.”

Because I was a hollow shell where only weeds grew. “I just need some time.” A shrink would only state the obvious, that Bolton had broken the marriage when he’d decided to open it to others. But I couldn’t mention Theo in his presence, so he would never know how deep my feelings had been for someone else, how my heart had beat for someone else with astounding speed. That was what I needed a shrink for, to overcome the horrible way Theo had chewed me like tobacco and spit me out into the gutter.

“Sure,” he said. “Maybe we should take a trip. You love Paris.”

I loved Paris because it was the most romantic city in the world, and I’d been head over heels in love with Bolton from the moment I met him. We’d spent time there in the past, staying at an apartment and getting coffee together every morning. But now, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to go back there again, to be reminded of how easy my life had been at one point, to wonder if Bolton had really loved me then—or if he’d wanted to fuck every woman he saw on the street. “Maybe.”

He continued to watch me, disappointment in his eyes.

I looked at my food again.

“Astrid, is there something I can do?—”

“It’s been five days, Bolton. Five days since some assholes broke in to my apartment. Five days since I moved back in here. Five days since you told me that Theo played me for a fucking fool. I’m sorry that I’m not moving on as quickly as you would like, but this is as fast as I go.”

He stared at me, elbows on the table.

I didn’t mean to snap, but the quiet pressure he applied had ground me into sand.

“Therapy isn’t going to make me go faster. A trip to Paris isn’t going to make me go faster. This shit is going to take time, so if you can’t accept that, then perhaps I should go.”

“No,” he said, lifting his fingers slightly from the table. “I’m not trying to rush you.”

“Yes, you are,” I said. “You got what you wanted, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still broken. It doesn’t mean the past didn’t happen. It doesn’t mean I’m not traumatized by that asshole sticking his head into my bedroom, the bedroom I had to sleep in because you decided to open our marriage to everyone on the street.”

He dropped his eyes and stared at the table. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I just…” He took a pause before he looked at me again. “I just miss you. I miss my wife. I miss what we had.”

Bolton had always been home for me. A place of safety. He’d elevated my standing in life, put me in a beautiful house, gave me more money than I would ever need. And he was handsome and smart and charismatic…perfect in every category. When I’d tried to leave, I’d cut my skin on thorns on the way out, had my heart smashed by bricks, and then the monsters crawled into my house. And Bolton was the only one there to save me.

“I can be patient,” he said. “I can be as patient as you need me to be, because you’re worth the wait.”

Several new paintings entered our inventory, and it was up to me to decide where they would be hung. We had different galleries by genre and time period, and if a painting wasn’t purchased within sixty days, it was rotated farther toward the back of the gallery. If it continued not to be sold, it ended up in storage until we had a shortage. Or if it was just a strange but respectable painting, it ended up in the basement where it would never see the light of day.

Until someone like Theo showed up.

The owner of the gallery rarely came by. When he’d first hired me, he was around a lot, but once he realized I could handle all the responsibilities without a hiccup, he promoted me to the manager position. There was one other girl here, and she was around mainly on the weekends so I could have that time off.

When no clients were in the gallery, it was just me, alone under the lights, surrounded by history. By loves lost at sea. By victors who got to write their histories. By flowers that bloomed gloriously for a breath then slowly wilted away.

Leather armchairs were positioned on the rugs throughout the gallery so patrons could take a moment to see how they connected with the paintings before they committed to the purchase. Some salespeople pushed for a sale the second a customer stepped foot inside the gallery, but I chose to let people take their time and have the silence to think. It resulted in more sales, so my boss thought I was this master salesperson, when in actuality, I just gave people time to breathe. Whether they bought the painting or not made no difference to me because my husband was insanely wealthy. I didn’t have to worry about a mortgage or a car payment. I had no money worries at all—just other kinds of worries.

I sat in one of the armchairs and looked at the newest addition to the gallery, artwork left to the gallery when the owner passed. She said her kids didn’t appreciate art, so she’d rather give it to us than let them shove it into a garage or sell it for pennies. It was painted by a famous French painter from the eighteenth century who captured the beauty of Versailles, occupied by the royal family. The gardens were in bloom and the structures tall. A lone guard stood at the top of the stairs. It was a simple painting, but I found myself staring at it for minutes without blinking.

“What do you think?”

I’d know that voice anywhere, because it was still in my dreams. My eyes immediately flicked to his as my heart squeezed in both pain and terror.

Theo stood there, his shoulders covered in spots from the drops of rain that had fallen on him during the walk from his Range Rover. His hair was slightly damp too. His dark eyes looked at me like I was the painting.

I’d never expected to see him again, assumed he would turn into a ghost that would haunt my hallways and my silence, and when he couldn’t haunt me anymore, he would turn into a phantom and invade my nightmares.

He continued to stare at me.

I stared back.

He moved to the armchair beside me then looked at the painting. “Is it new?”

I continued to stare at him, unsure why he was in the gallery, needing a moment to find the words. “Why are you here?”

He continued to look at the painting. “Versailles, right?”

I rose from the armchair and stepped away. “If you aren’t going to buy it, then leave me the fuck alone.” What did he want? Was he there just to torture me? To pour salt in the wound and watch it react?

He rose from the armchair then stepped toward me. “Astrid?—”

“Seriously, why are you here?” Despite how calmly he spoke, I turned hysterical, because I could forgive Bolton for his desires for other women, but I couldn’t forgive Theo for using me. “What part of leave me the fuck alone don’t you understand?” I yelled. Yelled because it was just the two of us in that gallery.

He raised his hand slightly to calm me. “Astrid?—”

“Buy the painting or get the fuck out.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.” He lowered his hand, his dark eyes piercing my face with a subtle look of desperation.

My eyes flicked back and forth between his, not wanting him to take a piece of art that he didn’t truly appreciate. His butler would probably leave it in a storage room that Theo never visited. The painting would be forgotten. “No. You’ll just destroy it.” The way you destroyed me.

He continued to watch me, a mountain with a permanent shadow, his eyes sharp with intelligence. “I need to talk to you.”

“Why?” My anger began to bubble again.

“Can I take you to lunch?—”

“No.”

“Astrid—”

“Leave, or I’ll call Bolton.”

“Call him.” He continued to stare at me like he meant it. “I let him live because of you. But I won’t let him live a second time.”

I was cornered with no escape.

“I just want to talk to you.” Theo continued his hard stare. “Please.”

An invisible barrier had sealed around my heart—and he wouldn’t get through it this time. “Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

He continued to stare at me like he’d already said everything.

“Yes?”

He gave a quiet sigh. “I’m not good at this.”

“What?”

“This,” he said quietly. “I fucked this up, and I wish I could take it back.”

I didn’t expect an apology, not from the Skull King, a man who seemed to have no conscience.

“I said a lot of things to you that I didn’t mean. Things I had to force myself to say.”

My arms tightened over my chest to block my heart from his sight. I wanted to ask him to specify, but I refused to show any interest, to let myself feel any interest, to actually value any words that came out of his traitorous mouth.

“I didn’t know, Astrid.” His authoritative eyes latched on mine. “I mean that. When we met in the rain, I had no idea. When I came to your gallery, I had no idea. When I took you to dinner and kissed you and fucked you, I had no idea. Bolton wants you to think that because it’s in his best interest that you do.”

“He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Because he asked you for an open marriage?” he asked incredulously. “The only reason a man asks for an open marriage is because he’s already cheating and he doesn’t want to have to hide it anymore.”

My heart gave another painful squeeze. “You don’t know that.”

“No, but you know how good my intuition is, sweetheart.”

I kept a straight face, but I felt the seed of insecurity grow.

He stared for a moment before he pushed past it. “I didn’t know, Astrid. And once I did know…my world became so complicated. Because I want your husband dead for what he did to me, but I steadied my hand because I care for you. Deeply.”

“What did he do to you?” I whispered.

His eyes hardened once more, like he didn’t want to answer. “I told you my brother died.”

“Yes…”

“Who do you think killed him?”

My heart started to race. “He only kills bad people?—”

“And you believe that?” He cocked his head slightly. “He kills whoever the fuck he’s paid to kill. Whether that’s a cheating spouse or someone in the way of a good deal. Whether that’s the head of a mafia or an old business partner who still owns half the company. A name for the money. That’s it.”

The concrete wall remained intact, but now there was a crack. “Was your brother a good man?”

He considered the question for a long time, chin tilted slightly down to look at me. “No…but he wasn’t bad either.” The depth of his pain was visible in his stare, his despair like lilies that floated on a pond. “But you were enough to steady my hand. Don’t question my feelings for you.”

I wanted to believe him, wanted it so badly, but my heart was too far gone now. “It didn’t seem like you cared that much when you ruthlessly dumped me…and described it as such.”

He blinked, and in that nanosecond, I saw regret. “I wish I could take that back.”

“Well, you can’t.” I would never tell him how much that hurt, that it was probably the most painful moment of my life. “It’s done, Theo. And I would love it if we could move on—and forget each other.”

“I don’t want to forget you,” he said. “And I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

With the paintings as our witnesses, we were delving into a conversation I’d never expected to have on a rainy afternoon like this. Time had moved with a painful slowness, the weight on my chest seeming to grow heavier, not lighter.

“You shouldn’t be with him, Astrid. You deserve better.”

“There is no better,” I said. “Because all men are the same.” They were all lying cowards. They all took the easy way out. They swore to be protectors, but they broke the things they swore to protect. I should have been reason enough for my father to stay, but he loved my mother more than he loved me, so the choice was easy. It all started there, and every man I’d come across on my journey had turned out to be more of the same.

“I know that I hurt you, sweetheart.” He lowered his voice. “But I’m not the same.”

My eyes flicked away as my heart grabbed the plaster and sealed the crack in the wall. I’d let him in so deep, and now he wouldn’t even make it an inch past my surface. No one would.

“Let me prove that to you.”

My eyes found his. “I’m married, Theo.”

“Leave him.”

“I already left him, remember?” I could feel the points of the daggers in my eyes, feel the urge to strike and carve flesh. I remembered the moment like it was yesterday, from what we wore to where he stood in the suite to how he smelled. I remembered his villainous stare, the coldness that froze every surface of the furniture. “I begged you to give us a chance, and then the very next day, you were done. Didn’t even last a day.”

He let the silence pass. It was unclear whether he had no defense or he was thinking of one. “I wish I could explain my behavior that day, but I can’t. I ask you to remember the man who you saw. Who you’ve seen since the beginning. Pardon my crime and give me another chance.”

“Last time you spoke, you said you had nothing to offer me.”

“Yes. But I’m willing to try.”

“Well, I’ve seen you try before. And look how that worked out.”

“Astrid.”

I wouldn’t look at him.

“Sweetheart.”

I swallowed.

His fingers gently touched my chin and turned my gaze back to him. “Please.”

I hadn’t felt him touch me in what felt like an eternity. His fingers were still warm. Still soft. He still had that same pull on me, like a magnet the size of the moon.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I changed your tire in the rain. Since the moment my mouth claimed your lips in my name. I took you to dinner because I enjoyed listening to every word that came out of your mouth. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, and I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to say it.” His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “But I’m saying it now. I can’t promise you this will end the way you want. As husband and wife with a couple kids climbing all over the furniture. But I can promise you that I’ll try. Try to take it slow. One day at a time. Start at a crawl and work our way to a walk. And then maybe, one day, we’ll run.”

Was I the biggest idiot in the world for wanting to believe him?

For being tempted…just for a moment?

I knew he was the one I really wanted because he was the first one I’d called. But he didn’t answer.

Bolton did.

He’d saved my life. Saved me from something even worse. Maybe Bolton didn’t give me everything I wanted, but I couldn’t depend on Theo to give me anything. “It’s too late, Theo.”

“It’s not too late?—”

“I’ve made my choice.” I stared at him resolutely, confident in my decision. “I don’t feel the same way I did before.”

“I deserve a clean slate.”

“Maybe you do. Maybe everything you’ve said is true. But everything that’s happened is permanent, and the feelings they evoked are also permanent. I can’t change the way I feel. I can’t trust someone after they’ve given me a reason not to. I can’t expect them to pick up when I call, when they didn’t pick up when I needed them most.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he examined my face. “That’s not fair?—”

“I know it’s pathetic, but I need a man to take care of me. I need a man to protect me. Bolton has always done those things, and I know he’ll always do those things. Say whatever you want about what he did, but he didn’t sneak around behind my back. He spoke to me directly. He doesn’t say he wants me one day and then doesn’t the next. Nothing he’s ever done has hurt me nearly as much as you have.”

He listened to all of that, his breaths slightly elevated. “Sweetheart.”

I waited for him to say more, knowing it was coming.

His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “If I hurt you more than he ever has, then that means I mean more to you. It means that I’m the man you want, but you’re scared. So, you’re settling. And everything you said before is bullshit. You don’t need him to care for you or protect you. You’re perfectly capable of doing those things on your own. What the fuck happened to make you change your entire identity like this? Because the woman I met had a spine stronger than the knuckles in my fist. She held her head higher than a queen. She was a bad bitch who didn’t take shit—not even from me.” He cocked his head slightly. “What happened, Astrid?”

I looked away.

“Tell me.”

I didn’t want to repeat the story. Couldn’t describe it without it playing out in my mind, without it provoking the feelings I tried to bury. “I’ve made my choice, Theo. And I mean it when I say I don’t ever want to see you again.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as I said it. It would hurt too much, to see the disappointment he tried so hard to mask. “Bolton and I are in a monogamous relationship now, so I feel deceitful even talking to you. I’m not a liar. I can’t hide things. Don’t make me hide things.”

There was silence.

I continued to avoid his gaze and waited for him to leave.

But he wouldn’t make it that easy. He was determined to make this as difficult as possible.

I continued to wait.

He continued to stay.

“Sweetheart.”

I blinked at the endearment, remembering the first time he’d said it to me. My eyes found his.

“You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

I hung up my coat when I got home, expecting the smell of dinner because Bolton did all the cooking nowadays, but the air was absent of the aromas of a hot meal. When I walked into the kitchen, I found it empty. I moved into the living room next and found him working on something on the coffee table, a machine with lots of parts and pieces. I wasn’t even sure what it was. He was like a kid putting together a toy model.

“Hey.”

My voice made his hands flinch. “Baby, I didn’t hear you come in.” He left the parts on the coffee table and walked over to me, giving me a one-armed hug and a quick kiss on the lips.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just something I’m trying to put together. How about we go out to dinner tonight?”

“Out?” We hardly ever did that, not unless it was a work thing.

“Unless you don’t want to. I can run out and grab takeout.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Great. Have a place in mind?”

I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. Just had a large coffee with oat milk. After my appetite had disappeared, it never came back. During different times of my life, I’d actually tried to lose weight and it never worked, and then the one time I didn’t try, it just fell off me. “I’m fine with anything.”

“Alright. I’m in the mood for steak.”

We went to one of his favorite restaurants. He ordered a steak with potatoes, and I ordered pasta. I didn’t mind meat, but I didn’t desire it the way he did. It seemed to be the only thing he ever wanted. If I made a salad, he took a few bites to be polite then moved on to the main course.

We ate in silence, just the way we did at home.

He looked at me from time to time. “How was work?”

Theo popped into my mind, tall and muscular, brooding, and desperate for forgiveness. I felt obligated to tell Bolton about it, but knowing they were enemies made me refrain. I didn’t want either of them to be casualties in a gunfight. “Fine.”

“Did anybody come in?”

My heart picked up at the question.

He seemed to read my mood because he said, “You always say no one ever comes in.”

“Oh…right.” Most of the paintings I sold were to our existing client list. I sent out a picture in a newsletter, and people bought it without ever seeing it in person. Walk-ins happened, but walk-ins who actually bought something rarely happened. “We got a new painting of Versailles today. It’ll probably be gone within the week.”

“Did you notify your clients?”

“Not yet.” I’d been distracted all day. And then Theo had walked in, and I’d gotten nothing done. “It came in later in the afternoon. We’d barely hung it up before we closed.”

He nodded then took another bite. He didn’t seem to be suspicious of anything, but my husband was a hired hit man, so it was hard to know what he really thought of anything. He swirled his glass of red wine before he took a drink. “You like your pasta?”

“Yeah, it’s good.” I’d had about half of it and felt full.

He went back to eating his dinner and didn’t ask me any more questions.

I didn’t have the same energy I used to when I started conversations with him after he came home from work. All the ambition had been zapped out of my body.

“Sometimes I wonder if you should still be working.” He cut into his steak and sectioned off a big bite.

He’d never said anything like that to me before. Never seemed to care that I had a job or what I did with my money. “Why do you say that?”

“You don’t need to work. And you’ve always wanted to paint.”

“But I’m not good at painting.”

“Can’t you get better?” he asked. “Quit your job and go back to school.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just an idea.” He took a bite of his meat and chewed, scanning the restaurant behind me.

“Do you not want me to work?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that seems to be what you want.”

“If I said yes, would you stop working?” His eyes focused on me again.

“I—I guess it depends on why,” I said. “Because I like having a job. I like having something to do with my day. I know you aren’t working much right now, but normally, you’re pretty busy.” I suspected my being out of the house every day had a different impact on him because he’d been home a lot, spending time with me to prove that he was in this marriage until death.

After a long stare, he turned back to his steak and cut into it again. The conversation seemed to be over to him because he didn’t ask anything else.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He placed the bite in his mouth and chewed, his eyes on me.

It’d been on my mind ever since Theo had mentioned it. Like a ringing in the ears after being at a loud concert. “Did you ask for an open marriage…because you’d already been with someone?”

He paused mid-chew, his eyes reacting with a subtle look of shock.

I had been hurt by his request but had appreciated his honesty. But what if he hadn’t been as honest as I assumed? What if he really was just covering his own ass or masking his guilt?

He chewed again, finishing the bite and swallowing. “What?”

“My question was pretty clear?—”

“That’s not why, Astrid.” Anger flashed in his tone. “And I’m not sure why you would even ask that. Why are you asking now instead of months ago when this discussion began?” Suspicion moved into his gaze, but he didn’t give voice to it.

“Maybe cheating made you want to cheat more?—”

“I’m probably going to regret saying this, but I’m gonna say it anyway.” He set his fork down, his appetite gone. “You know what I do for a living. I’m gone for days at a time. Unless you’re secretly a master spy, you’re never going to know what I’m doing when we aren’t together. So if I had another wife and a family in Milan, you would never know about it. There’s no incentive for me to ask for an open marriage if I’m fucking around without getting caught.”

“Unless you feel guilty.”

He stared, his blue eyes slowly turning hostile. “I kill people for a living, Astrid. I’m incapable of feeling guilt.” He’d been patient and quiet for the past week after I’d returned to the house. Giving me affection when he could and space when I preferred it. But now, he’d erupted like a volcano that had been forced into dormancy. “If I wanted the bachelor life, I wouldn’t be married. But I am married—because I love you.”

My eyes flicked away.

“Are these your thoughts, or did someone put them there?”

Good thing my heart was invisible behind my skin and bones. Otherwise, he would have seen it flip.

“Because I don’t think you came to this conclusion on your own.”

I kept my eyes on the wineglass and did my best to feel nothing, to show nothing.

“Astrid.”

My eyes lifted in obedience.

“Are you in this marriage or not?” he snapped.

“I am?—”

“Because I’m here fighting for it with my life, and you have one foot out the door.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why are you talking to him?”

“I’m not.” I lied like my life depended on it, scared of the consequences of the truth.

Bolton knew I was honest to the point of obnoxiousness, so he seemed to believe my words like scripture. He grabbed his glass and took a drink, his eyes elsewhere as he looked across the restaurant, anywhere else but me.

“I’m sorry I brought it up.” I didn’t realize how gentle and kind Bolton had been to me until I encountered the angry side of him.

He took another drink of his wine before he motioned for the check. “You should be.”

He hadn’t finished his dinner, and neither had I.

It was a quiet day at the art gallery.

Now that Theo had stopped by multiple times, I eyed the door more often, expecting that mountain to walk inside at any moment and cast a shadow over the whole place. But I suspected I would never see him again after the last words I’d said to him.

It made me sad. But that was all I knew these days…sadness.

I dusted all the frames because the owner didn’t like to have a cleaning crew inside the building, not when there were paintings hundreds of years old that were sensitive to just about everything. So I did the cleaning, vacuuming the rugs and mopping the floors before we closed in the evenings. I enjoyed the solitude, but I preferred to interact with art collectors who appreciated everything in that gallery.

Art was so easy to talk about.

“Slow day?”

I stilled when I heard his voice, and disappointment flooded me when it wasn’t who I expected. “Winters are always the slowest.” I turned around to face him, the dusty cloth still in my hand. “People are broke and tired after the holidays.”

Bolton walked up to me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his blue eyes locked on mine with possessiveness. “Can I take you to lunch?”

“Sure.” It’d been tense between us since that dinner, but the storm was starting to fade. The fact that he’d come down here told me he’d finally abandoned his anger.

His arms circled my waist, and he pulled me in for a kiss.

I kissed him back, expecting a quick kiss on the mouth.

But he gave me something deeper, something slower, before he pulled away.

I felt the spark there, but it was faint, like a match that would light but quickly blow out in the breeze.

“You pick the place.”

I cleaned up and locked the gallery. I turned over the sign on the door, saying I would be back after lunch. It was a cold day, but the sky was cloudless, so we walked a couple blocks to a café that had great sandwiches.

He ordered a latte and a chicken sandwich.

I ordered the vegetarian one.

He relaxed in his chair, a handsome man who got looks wherever he went. When he walked across the restaurant to use the restroom, I saw all the women stare. I’d never cared because he was mine. But now, I wondered if he would stare back if I weren’t there. Do more than stare.

I pushed those thoughts from my mind, because I was supposed to find a reason to stay. Not a reason to leave. “When do you think you’ll go back to work?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh…good. You must be bored if you came down here.”

“No,” he said before he took a drink of his coffee. “It wasn’t from boredom.”

When he left for his assignments and I was home alone, I wondered if the insecurities would get to me. Would I wonder what he was doing? If he slept alone the way I did? It was a hurdle that might be too high for us to jump.

He stared at me across the table, his blue eyes soaking me in. “Come with me.”

“Come with you where?”

“On my next assignment.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Astrid.”

“I know. I just…” I couldn’t imagine being in a new, different city while my husband disappeared into the night to take someone’s life. “I have my job.”

“It’s just a job. Quit.”

“But then I wouldn’t have it to fill my time when we’re back here.”

“Do you need something to fill your time?” he asked. “We’ll be parents sometime in the next two years.”

“We will?” I asked. “We haven’t really discussed that.”

“Then let’s discuss it now.” He took another drink of his coffee.

I couldn’t get him to have a family with me before, and now it was all he could talk about. “I think we should work on us first.”

“Then come with me.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if I want to be involved in that at all.” When he was gone, I knew what he was doing. When he came home, I would know what had just been done. It was easier not to think about it when I was home.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I just want to be with you, Astrid. And I want to prove that I’m not anywhere I shouldn’t be when we aren’t together. You’ve made it clear you don’t trust me, so…”

“I didn’t say that?—”

“You did.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his anger was thinly veiled. “I probably wouldn’t stay in this marriage if you’d asked me that under different circumstances. But because of what I did, I suppose it’s reasonable.”

“Do you want me to come with you so I trust you—or because you don’t trust me?” He’d never stopped by my gallery before. Not once since I’d worked there. He was usually busy with work or sleeping during the day after an assignment, so his life was different right now. But it was still unusual. It made me wonder if he didn’t believe the lie I’d told at dinner but didn’t have enough proof otherwise. Did he actually want me to come with him, or did he just want to make sure I was home alone? That I wasn’t running off to Theo the second he was gone?

He cocked his head slightly. “Should I not trust you?”

“No.” I told Theo not to come back because I didn’t want to sneak around behind Bolton’s back. Even if nothing happened, I would still feel morally obligated to share. I would have told him the truth in the first place if the two men wouldn’t tear each other apart like two lions.

He continued to pierce my face with his angry eyes.

I felt his silent wrath, felt the danger that he must show to men before he killed them. I’d never thought of Bolton as dangerous or harmful, but he’d never been angry like this in my presence. It was a new side to him. “You’re the one I chose. I want to work on this with you.”

“You said he broke it off with you.”

“He did.”

“Then what do you mean, you chose me?” His eyes narrowed.

“I just mean I want to be here.”

“Did you speak to him again after that?” He lowered his voice, but now he seemed more deadly.

“No.”

“Because it sounds like he tried to change his mind, but you said no?—”

“No.” I lied to protect Theo from Bolton. I lied to protect Bolton from Theo. One was a trained killer, and the other was a drug kingpin. Put them in a ring together, and I had no idea who would be the victor. But either way, I would be the loser. “I just mean that it’s always been you, Bolton. Even when I was with him, it was you.” I would never have believed I would be capable of lying so effortlessly, but terror had quickly corrupted my morality. Lying was the easiest thing in the world…if it was to save someone else.

He continued that piercing stare.

“I’d like to stay here, Bolton. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”