Chapter 11
Nate
Ismile as the woman I’ve loved for decades realises she’s finally mine. Grace’s big, red-rimmed eyes are wary and her lip trembles, but I catch a flicker of relief as I round the kitchen island to close in on her. I’m ready to accept whatever reaction she needs to have.
“I am not your wife.”
She puts her hands up, warding me off as she backs towards the corridor. I follow steadily, allowing her a bit of room.
I want her malleable, not panicked.
“Nick is my husband,” she continues, “and signing some bullshit paper doesn’t mean anything! He’s—he’s the one I married, and he’s—”
“He’s gone, Grace.”
She turns and flees up the curving corridor.
I sigh inwardly, knowing how this will probably go.
It was a risk to reveal the truth so abruptly, but it had to be done; these next hours will determine the dynamic for the rest of our lives, and I want Grace to understand exactly what I’m offering now that she’s mine.
“Grace,” I call gently, making sure she hears me before she sees me. I can hear her, too. Faint footsteps on hardwood. Gasps echoing along the inflected walls. The rattling of the brass doorknob in the foyer. She’s trying to open the front door.
“It’s locked, love,” I say, stepping into the foyer behind her.
She yanks at the door, her thin form straining. She hasn’t even put her shoes on.
“Here,” I murmur, brushing her aside to unlock the door with the key from my pocket.
I take a long step back, gesturing to the open door.
“Our closest neighbour is Mihirangi, and her place is two kilometres away. The closest town is twenty minutes by car. Beyond that, there’s nothing but paddocks and sheep. ”
“Give me your car keys,” she holds out a shaking hand, not meeting my eyes. “And—and I need my purse. I know you have it.”
I frown, finally letting my face show some of the concern I’m feeling. I knew she’d be shocked—furious, even—but this cool attempt to leave is both more and less than I’d hoped for.
“You’re in no state to drive, Grace.”
“Fine,” she snaps, “just the purse, then. I’ll call an Uber or,” she glares up at me, readying herself to make the threat I feel coming, “I’ll call the police.”
“Shoes on first if you’re going out,” I murmur, bending down to retrieve her sneakers, not bothering to tell her that Uber doesn’t answer calls this far up the coast. “I’ll help you.”
She snatches the sneakers and I grin inwardly.
Irate little thing…
It’s not the time to show my enjoyment of her—that will come soon enough. For now, I simply watch her shove her feet clumsily into the shoes, squashing down the heel to wear them as uncomfortable slides.
“I don’t want your help.” She straightens up, meeting my eyes. “I’m leaving, and—”
“And I’m coming with you,” I interrupt. “I don’t fancy an evening stroll, but if that’s what you want, then off we trot.”
She holds out a hand. “Give me my phone. I’m calling the police.”
I look down at her open hand. “What makes you think the police will help you, Grace?”
She blinks, fear creeping into her expression again. “Give me my phone, Nate.”
I shrug and retrieve her purse from its hook in the open closet. She backs away clumsily, one foot in the house, one out. I want to reach out and steady her; instead, I watch as she fumbles with the phone, which fails to unlock. It’s dead.
“Such a pain when that happens,” I say. “I’ve got a charger, love, but it’s inside the house.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not going back in there. Give me your phone instead.”
“To call the police?” I pull it out of my back pocket. “It’s about time I followed up with Constable Tim, actually. I’ve got some evidence to share with him.”
I say the words gently. Although I am making a threat, it’s not against her. Grace needs to understand that my arrangements have included measures to keep her with me. So far, she’s only seen the carrots—the house, the dog, and me. It’s time to show her the sticks.
Her reaction is subtle, a little twitch away from the exit and towards me.
“You’ve already told the police about Mother,” she says.
“I made a preliminary report, yes. But I have further evidence of your mother’s attempts to murder you, which I haven’t shared with the police.
” I meet her eyes as I scroll to Constable Tim’s name in my phone.
“Even if it’s not enough to lead to a conviction, it’ll be more than enough to warrant her immediate arrest. And, without access to my dear brother’s funds, she’d have no means of hiring the type of solicitor who could keep her out of a remand cell.
So,” I tap the screen, “let’s get Tim on the phone, shall we? ”
“How about I report you for kidnapping and—” she looks away, clearly thinking fast, “and false imprisonment!”
“You’re imprisoned?” I look pointedly at the driveway beyond the open front door. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Grace. Say the word and we’re off. Just as soon as I make this call, of course.”
She peers outside, her shoulders hunched defensively, her bag clutched to her chest. “I trusted you, Nate. I—I called for you because I thought you’d protect me.”
I let myself take a step closer. “It’s like I told you earlier: I had to step in to ensure your mother didn’t get her hands on what is rightfully ours.”
She swipes a hand over her eyes, trying to hide her tears. As if she could ever hide anything from me.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” she says, her voice low and shaking. “If I leave, you’ll have Mother arrested for attempted murder, and then what? You’ll drown me in legal bills trying to divorce you and keep my share of the inheritance? That’s fucking blackmail.”
“It’s all any marriage is,” I murmur. I can almost feel the heat of her, even though she’s shivering in the cool night air coming through the open door. “You leave me, and I’ll do as you say; you stay, and I’ll finally do what I should have done ten years ago.”
She shakes her head with a scoff. “What, steal me away from my own wedding?”
I close the distance, my lips at her ear. “I’ll take care of you the way no one else ever has.”
“As if you even know what that means.” Grace glares, her expression mutinous. “And, what, I’m supposed to trust you after you’ve tricked me the same day my husband died? You’re a monster, Nate. And I—I’m leaving.”
She slips away, marching down the front path with false confidence and a poorly-suppressed sob.
“I’ll give Constable Tim your regards.” She turns back just as I bring the phone to my ear. I raise my brows. “Any last words you want to pass to your mother before she’s thrown in jail?”
Grace’s chest flutters in that tell-tale way I love and hate. Air hunger. Deep and terrible, making it feel as though she can never get enough of anything. Her entire life can be summed up in those terrible breaths, a sickness too deep for anyone else to see.
She swallows hard, her next breath hitching.
I’m on her before she can collapse, dropping my phone so I can catch her. She’s downright frail, yet she tries to push me away.
“Come inside, Grace.” I lock her flailing arms against her chest, forcing her to lean into me. “Just to catch your breath. You don’t have to make any choices right now.”
“You saved me from her,” she whispers, “so you could have me for yourself. And Nick is—he’s—”
“He’s dead,” I say, running a comforting hand down her back. She’s right on the threshold of where I want her, resistant yet compliant. And so, so perfect. “Now it’s time to let me take care of you.”
Grace pushes against my chest, twisting away.
I let her go. I know I have her.
Sure enough, she steps back inside, abandoning her purse on the tiles.
She won’t look at me but that’s fine. I lock the door, securing the house for the night, then I hold out my hand.
When she doesn’t accept it, I take her elbow and guide her towards the second archway, the one that leads to the more intimate part of the house.
“What about Nick’s funeral?” She tries to suppress the catch in her voice. “Are you going to take that away from me, too?”
“Of course not,” I say, allowing impatience to colour my voice for the first time.
I lead her past my home office, the adjacent gym, and two unfurnished bedrooms. After the fast-moving demands of the day, I want to curl myself around my wife.
But first, I have to do what Nick and her mother never have: I have to explain everything to Grace so she’ll make the choices that will work in her favour.
When I speak again, my voice is placid, betraying none of the cracks in my composure. “Arrangements are made for Nick to be cremated after the coroner releases his body to the funeral home. His ashes will be delivered here directly, then we’ll lay him to rest together.”
“What if he wanted a burial?” she asks. “What if I wanted to make different arrangements?”
I try to steer her into the master suite at the end of the curved corridor. She balks, planting her feet and glaring up at me.
Stubborn thing.
“I’ve got documents saying Nick wanted cremation. Do you know something I don’t, Grace? If so, enlighten me.”
She shakes her head, her face lined with sorrow. “I don’t want this to be the end of it. My mother in jail. Nick dead. And me—here.”
I lean in, wanting to embrace her again.
She’s vulnerable and sweet in her stubbornness, and when I kiss her cheek I can taste the salt of her grief.
Something similar flows through me, though it’s muted.
She shivers, not pushing me away this time.
Maybe she finally understands that I won’t be moved.
“We can leave anytime you want,” I whisper, “but let me show you the bedroom first.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you’ll love it.”
“No, why did you marry me? Why did you build this house? Why…?”
“Oh, Grace. For the same reason Nick married you, and your mother tried to keep you. It’s the one thing all three of us have in common.”
She peers at me, so innocent in this moment before I bring the truth down. I stroke her from shoulders to hips, readying her for what’s coming.
“Because we all loved you enough to do very bad things.”
With that, I close my arms around my bride, and carry her over the threshold into our bedroom.