6. Charlie
Something’s wrong. She’s sitting in the back seat next to me, but she’s shrunk herself so much it feels like there’s a chasm between us. I can see little white half moons where she’s dug her nails into her own arms, clutching herself tightly.
I replay the way she almost looked hopeful when I gave my offer. Shocked, yes, but there was a little spark in her eyes, like she could see the potential the same as I could.
But she completely shut down as soon as I laid her watch on the bar. All the anger and hope and wit I’d seen completely vanished.
“I disposed of his body properly,” I say, jarring us out of the tense silence. Her anxiety is so thick in the air that it nearly kicks in my ingrained instincts to push, to harm, to get her to break.
But I don’t want that. Even more than being desperate to have her hear out my plan, something about her turns off that need in me. The last thing on the planet I want is for her to yield to me, and it’s a strange sensation.
She says nothing, her lips pressed together so tightly I’m afraid she’s going to split the skin with her teeth. I try to soften my expression.
“My team erased the security footage in the strip club as well. No one even filed a missing person’s report on him.” Her brows are furrowed together, and she’s breathing deeply through her nose.
“Why didn’t you come find me right away?” Her voice is soft and tight, like she’s terrified of my reaction. I don’t really understand her question, but maybe talking will calm her down.
“I never looked for you. I found some basic information about Bryan to ensure no one would come looking for him or his body, but I never tried to find you. Seeing you tonight was—” I stop myself just short of saying fate. “It was a coincidence.”
She scoffs, the sound too shaky to be unphased.
“So what? You hold on to all of this information just in case you stumble upon the girl you want to blackmail?” she demands, anger leaching through her fear.
Blackmail? Is that what she thinks this is? That I’m going to use what I know about her to what? Force her to marry me?
For a moment, I consider it. It would probably work. I could threaten to take the evidence that doesn’t exist anymore to the police. It would solve my problem and hers. It wouldn’t be the first time a Costa spouse was coerced into the family business.
But my stomach tightens unpleasantly at the thought. Not only would my sister likely kill me if she ever found out, I don’t want to force Gwen’s hand. I want her willingly, or as close to it as I can get.
She doesn’t know that the collected anger, the vicious calm I saw in her that night was like a siren’s song. That this isn’t blackmail, it’s proof. Proof that she can walk in our world. All I want is an opportunity to show her I can also provide what she needs. An explanation pours out of me without any organization of thought.
“Gwen, no, please,” I say, removing the watch from my pocket and holding it out to her. She eyes it warily, but doesn’t make a move to take it. “I wasn’t clear. I didn’t explain.” I’m scrambling, still holding the watch out in front of me.
“Didn’t explain what? How you told me I should marry you and pulled out evidence that I killed someone?” Her voice is stronger now, fury replacing despair rapidly. “You don’t fucking know anything. He nearly fucking killed her.” She chokes on her words for a moment, a grimace stealing over her features. “She got pregnant and when she told him, he beat her so badly she miscarried. Broke three fucking ribs. She was in the hospital for days. And I just knew if he came back, he’d kill her. And I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
Her fists are clenched, and once again she looks like an injured animal backed into a corner. But before I can even respond, she loses all trace of apprehension.
“No matter what you think you know, I’m not letting you blackmail me into fucking you.” She takes a deep breath, steadying her shoulders. “You just told me you erased all the evidence against me. And I’ll fuck the devil I know before the devil I don’t, but thanks so much for the offer.”
I’ve never felt like this before. Panicked and swimming in guilt, my chest so constricted I feel like I’m drowning. I was so caught up in the threads of fate I saw spinning us together that I didn’t even imagine this scenario from her perspective. And it was cruel.
“I apologize,” I say, because I mean it. I’m sorry I frightened her. I’m sorry that she got into this car, from her perspective, under duress. “First and foremost, I’m not proposing the same arrangement as Ben. You are under no obligation to sleep with me.”
I rub the back of my neck, mourning the fleeting memory of her flirting with me in the bar. But I can wrangle my attraction. Fate ties people together in many ways, and I should be thankful if it gives me a partner who might understand me and my work. I shouldn”t wish for more, especially when she so clearly doesn’t want that from me or Ben.
“I didn’t know why you killed him, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on coercing you into anything with me. You asked why I thought you would say yes to my proposition, and this is why. Because when I saw you that night, I knew you understood the cost of a life, and the weight of your decision.” I swallow hard, imploring her with my gaze, begging her to see the truth in my words. “There are few who can understand me, my family, our decisions and actions. I think you could be one of the few, and we could establish an agreement that benefits both of us.”
She’s silent, her anger simmering lower and lower until confusion mingles with it in equal spades. Her fight-or-flight reflex is still in overdrive, and I swear I can hear her heart pounding.
“Please,” I say, holding out the watch. “Take it. I don’t need it.”
She reaches her hand out gently, her fingertips brushing against mine as she takes it from my hand. She’s still shaking slightly, but she holds the watch in her lap, staring at the shattered face.
“I’m having a hard time understanding what’s going on,” she whispers, the war of emotions clear in her voice. The adrenaline of fear is starting to recede, and I watch her slump against the door, body exhausted.
“There are some things I would like to explain to you, and the conversation will be long and confusing and exhausting. But let me be clear, I am not going to force you into anything.” I steady my breathing as she finally looks away from the watch and locks eyes with me. So beautiful. “I want to provide you with an option that would be beneficial to both of us, and regardless of if you choose me or Ben, I will never say a word of what happened last summer.”
She’s silent as her eyes map my face, looking for deceit. But she won’t find it. It’s an uncomfortable sensation, but I force vulnerability into my expression. I let her read everything, from guilt through sincerity, and I feel myself tug on the string I know connects us.
She must feel it, or at least believe me a little, because she leans fully into the door, closing her eyes and tilting her head back so her throat is exposed. I practice pushing down my attraction to her, settling into the warm comfort of knowing that this is, at a minimum, a bit of trust between us.
“You really could not have made this whole situation more threatening if you tried,” she says, her laugh incredulous.
I throw a rueful smile at her, feeling the muscles in my shoulders finally relax.
“I truly am sorry for scaring you,” I reply, watching her stifle a yawn. She’s about to hit a massive wall from the adrenaline drop, judging from the drooping of her eyes.
“More pissed than anything else,” she mumbles, and I think that’s half true. She glances out the tinted window of the sedan. “Probably should have asked this earlier, but where are we going?”
“I asked Zane to drive us around so we could talk,” I say, lifting a hand toward the closed divider. She yawns against her hand again. “Though I’m not sure if tonight’s the best time for that now.”
“I can stay awake,” she protests weakly, her eyes slipping closed once again. I suppress a laugh as she settles into the seat more comfortably.
“We can talk in the morning,” I say softly, knocking lightly on the divider and directing Zane to reroute home.
“Morning,” she mumbles.
I watch her sleep as we make our way toward the house, her face relaxed and unburdened.