Bullshit. She was more to Victor than she was letting on. I counted my breaths for a few seconds and signed off on Mrs. Sharpe’s chart. “Your oncologist’s orders should be on the way, Mrs. Sharpe. Maybe he can convince you to go. If not, feel free to discharge yourself, go home, and die from your disease.” I turned to leave.
“Dr. Brenton,” Trisha called frantically. “Dr. Brenton, please wait.”
Trisha darted in front of me, blocking my exit. I met her pleading stare with a none too nice expression. She looked around in suspicion and bowed her head. “Can we talk in private?”
“No.”
“Don’t you have a heart? Don’t you see what she’s going through? Do you think she asked for this? Why can’t she have her”—she lowered her voice and moved closer to me—“peace. Vic said you would do it.”
I squared my shoulders to face her, scowling all the while. “Why did Vic send you here? Are you fucking him? Does he want to fuck you? Has he made a pass at you?”
She gawked at me like it could never happen. “Victor has been nothing but professional with me.”
Even though she wasn’t his type, she could’ve fit the bill for the women who used to be my type, except she was missing one crucial thing—confidence. Instead, she read as vulnerable and damaged. I would’ve bet my life that if I cared to look, I would discover that she was a cutter. Victor sent her here for me. He claimed he hadn’t met Nikki, but he kept trying to implement divisive devices by dangling rotten carrots in front of my face.
He was using Trisha to call in a favor. A favor I would have to complete before I could deal with Preston like I’d been wanting to do for weeks.
I’m feeling like his bitch right now. Not a good fucking thing.
“Vic should’ve never sent you here,” I said to Trisha.
Quivering her bottom lip, she brought on the waterworks. There they went, down her cheeks like raindrops. She was good, but not that good. If those were genuine tears, I wasn’t born with the genetics to ensure I developed a huge cock during puberty.
Rubbing my aching head with my fingertips, I tried to diminish the pounding. In order to see if it would lead to me getting my hands on Preston, I took a bite of the rotten carrot.
I slipped my card her way. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick the place to work on the details. I need to be sure you’re…kosher.”
She gave me a smile. “Thank you so much, Dr. Brenton. Thank you.”
BACK AT HOME, IT escaped my mind that I’d left my wife tied to the bed. Kifo had left a few messes here and there, reminding me pretty damn fast.
After cleaning up after the dog, I washed my hands and headed upstairs to the bedroom.
Resting my back against the doorway, I drank her in. She was right where I left her: in bed.
I walked up to her bedside and pounded my fist on the headboard.
She jolted and opened her eyes, showing me how pissed off she was. The fire in her eyes always turned me on. It threatened to make me forget how she betrayed me. It had been a while since I’d seen that fire that made me want to do very dirty things to her.
Her tits heaved with heavy breaths. Her hard nipples called my attention. Visions kept flashing in my head. I struggled between diving my cock inside her, bottoming out as I made her pussy clench around my cock—repeatedly forcing her to scream my name until she was hoarse as she came on my cock over and over again.
Then, there was that other thought of hurting her. Not in the ‘it aches so good it’s going to make me come’ kind of way. No. I thought about breaking out the knife and cutting my artistic expressions into her skin, making her beg me to stop—Fuck.
I closed my eyes and bit my lip hard enough to hurt and bring my head back from screwing her into soreness and not so much the ‘punish her like she’s a regular bitch’ anger.
“I halfway expected you to wet yourself,” I said with a grin. “Sort of disappointed you didn’t.”
She pursed her lips and dramatically turned her in the opposite direction.
“The silent treatment, huh?” Goddamn, she was really turning me on. Shoving what she tried to do back in my memory banks, I rebooted. “I’m getting the silent treatment, when you’re the one who was going to have an abortion in secret? Really? Is that the game we’re playing right now, Nik? Got it.” I palmed her torso and slid my hand underneath her shirt. Keeping my touch soft, my fingertips grazed across the silky skin at curve of waist; the place I knew her to be very ticklish in.
“No,” she wheezed. Her head turned so fast toward me, her neck creaked.
“You used to get a say. Now…we’re back to square fucking one.” I tapped my fingers against her waist like I was fingering piano keys.
She struggled until, eventually, her jeans darkened between her legs.
Satisfied, I slowly smirked.
She turned her head, unable to look at me as she sobbed.
I gripped her chin and forced her to face me. Remembering every second of every moment of how pissed I was. Thinking about the fact that she wanted an abortion, and she was going to do it without telling me.
It’s not a good thing when I feel like I showed her something I didn’t show anyone—never showed anyone—only to be fucked over later. It was like she was digging for the monster I warned her about on purpose.
I leaned forward, my lips almost touching hers. “This isn’t the worst I can do. I can’t sedate you, but I will keep you chained to the goddamn floor for the next six months to keep our kid safe from you. And, baby, that would still be considered the easy way. Nik?” I squeezed her chin beneath my fingers until she winced. “Don’t ever fuck with me again. Got me?”
“Yes,” she conceded.
I unhooked her wrists and set her free. She hopped off the bed, heading to the bathroom like she had a bowling ball stuck between her legs. I could hear her sobs from the other side of the door. I sat on bed, crashing my back against the mattress, avoiding the small damp spot.
As pissed as I was, as much as I knew she deserved it, another part of me knew it was fucked up. I’d made her remember what was done to her by the bitch who tormented her, because I’d done some semblance of the same thing to her. She was the only woman who could get to me in a culpable way.
I met her in the bathroom. She stood under the shower head, naked and crying. Clothes and all, I slid in the shower with her and palmed the back of her head, bringing her closer to me. “The reason you’re scared is idiotic. You have no reason to be. Going off the deep end to solve your issues isn’t going to work. This is a life we’re talking about. He or she deserves a chance, don’t you think?” I held her neck, pushing her jaw up with my thumbs. I pushed forward to be doused under the stream. “My twisted angel, how many times do I have to reassure you?”
She slowly nodded through closed eyes. “Something is happening to us. Something good, and then, something not so good. I’m not sure of which direction things will finally lead. I used to be so sure until you left me the way you did. You left me after you knew about what was done to me. You preyed on an incident I’m still sore about, and the worst part? You enjoyed doing that to me.” She blinked up at me, her bottom lip shaking. “Why would you do that to me, Eric?”
I grimaced, feeling like she just stabbed me in the heart. I couldn’t deny that she was right, and because she was, it increased the potency of an emotion I wasn’t familiar with—guilt. “I was rightly pissed because you were making extreme decisions based on your doubts, instead of confiding in me—making decisions that don’t include me. Just fucking talk to me, Nik. That’s what I’m here for.”
She stared at me almost like she was looking through me. “Eric? I need to know what’s going on with you. I know I shouldn’t pry, but I can’t help it. The things that are going on around you will touch me, no matter how hard you try to prevent it. They already have.”
I tipped my head down until my forehead touched hers. I reached out, palming the wet tile behind her. I felt defeated. Exhausted. I never
wished I could be that guy constantly. Most of the time, he appeared because she pulled him out of me. I couldn’t be that way anymore. Emotional susceptibility caused blindness, and I needed all of my senses to be keen. Circumstances made it impossible to be the man she wanted me to be all the time. “I have to be strong for you. If I let you in—all the way—I won’t be able to be strong anymore.”
Her eyes floated up to mine and I could tell I abated her anger. I regretted what I said the minute I said it, but it was too late to take it back. Fuck, she made my head spin.
She slowly slipped her hands around my face and softly kissed my lips.
Her lips…goddamn. I gave her back more than she could give. I…wanted…her. It was so fucking strong I could taste it in the back of my throat.
The thoughts to punish her…torture her, were taken up by how many times and how many ways I wanted to make her come. In my mouth. On my cock. Her cum dripping down my fingers. I wanted to make her come so hard she cried.
Being inside her was…my addiction and my source of power wrapped into one, and sometimes it broke me the hell down. It caught me off guard the first time we fucked. Every time I was inside her, it’s like I walked into a place I had no business being in. A place I knew I wouldn’t go when I died.
Hoisting her up, I pushed her against the tile. She wrapped her legs around me, running her hands through the back of my hair in a way that drove me crazy. She writhed her pussy against my hard cock.
Firming my hold on her, I dipped my teeth into her bottom lip, making her moan.
She lifted my chin over her hand. Her doll-eyes tugged at me. “Please, please fuck me, Eric. Please. I miss that big cock of yours. I’m so wet for you. Please give it to me.” Her hands reached down, but I grabbed them away from finding my dick and pinned them against the marble tile. I angled my head down again, unable to look at her through the strong downpour of the shower-head. I kept her still, watching her tits ebb and flow against my chest with her erratic breathing. “Nikki…are you still bleeding?”
She took too long to answer. When my eyes flickered at her, I saw one more reason on top of two others to back down and not fuck the senses out of her like I wanted to. “We can’t do this.” Kissing her forehead, I let go of her hands and gently placed her down to her feet.
She grabbed the sides of my soaked T-shirt, begging for me again without saying a word, and proceeded to break down my cool resolve with a sledgehammer. “Fuck, Nikki. I said no,” I told her firmly and shoved her away.
“Is it really because of the abortion?” she asked through a sob. “Because I never would’ve done it.”
I looked up at her, making sure I showed her not one hint of emotion. “It’s because you tried to screw with me. I don’t care who you are, no one fucks with me in that way. You never should’ve been the one to fuck with me that way. You’re my goddamned wife. When the hell are you going to act like it?”
I turned my back on her when she slipped down and cried the hardest I’d ever seen her cry since her mother died.
BEYOND MY REFLECTION in the mug of decaffeinated coffee I couldn’t drink, I could see my distorted brown eyes, holding more melancholy than one person could endure. The coffee shop used to be my favorite. I never cared about how often the coffee was burned, or tasted stale. I could always count on it being nearly empty.
Since Trent—my ex-boyfriend—killed himself, I hadn’t been able to return. I was scared the memory of him would make me remember our pact and what was said. As I recalled it now, the words we exchanged never felt truer. Sometimes living is more painful than dying.
After several weeks on bed rest, stuck between working and taking up trading again from the confines of my bed, I had to do something. I received the clearance from my doctor earlier in the morning, allowing me to take short walks; I’d finally felt safe enough to do so. It seemed whatever Preston had planned, Eric was correct in saying I had no reason to worry about him any longer. Eric had successfully pushed Preston off his path of destroying me.
The visit to the coffee shop became the highlight of my day. It was an attempt to get myself out of the dark place my mind wanted to succumb to; it wasn’t working.
Seated closest to the window, I touched the ice cold tempered glass while I watched the first falling leaves of the season drift to the ground. The crisp, first day of fall wind made a whistling sound against the glass.
When I observed the scene at the coffee shop again, I spied a familiar face. “Melonie?” I blurted out before I could really ponder the idea of reconnecting with her.
Accompanied by a statuesque brunette with a modern mullet and very dark smoked out liner, Melonie’s purple hair whipped around her face as she shot me a furtive glance. She whispered something to her friend that made them both leave in haste.
Confused, I forgot about my coffee and followed her outside. “Melonie? You know me, and I know this place is way out of your way. If you came here to see me, why are you just walking away?”
When she reached a fair distance away, she turned around. “I’m sorry. That was really rude of me, but can you blame me?”
Stunned, I nodded. “Yes. I didn’t do anything to you.”
Folding her arms, she gazed at me through half-closed eyes. “Is there something I can do for you, Nikki? My friend and I have to get going.”
I scratched my neck at a loss for words. I refashioned my black knit scarf around my neck as the temperature began to affect me. “I think I need someone to talk to. You were the only person in my life who said anything that remotely made any sense. I…want to talk.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her words filled with perceptible regret. Turning on her heels, she walked away.
“Preston raped me,” I blurted out.
Melonie paused in her stride. Her friend shook her head vehemently and mouthed to Melonie, “Don’t forget what that sicko did to you for helping her. Don’t do it.” Her friend then turned to me. “I know a great therapist,” her friend said to me. “She does singles and couples. She did wonders for a friend of mine. I’ll give you her contact information if you need someone to speak with. But please, leave my girlfriend alone. She’s been put through enough thanks to your boyfriend.”
“Husband,” I corrected her.
Melonie swirled around quickly. With her mouth agape, she shook her head in slow motion.
“I didn’t do anything to you. Why am I being punished as if I did?”
Unable to return my gaze, she closed her eyes and lowered her chin.
“I never said you were there the day Estelle confronted me. I tried to protect you by keeping quiet about your involvement. If Eric did something to you, you didn’t deserve his wrath. Can you talk to me? It’s really unfair of you to make me pay for something I didn’t do.”
Her red-streaked eyes narrowed at me. “Did you drive here?”
Having never had the keys to my mother’s cars returned to me, I was forced to walk. I shook my head. “I…had to walk here.”
Her girlfriend grabbed Melonie’s arm and firmly shook her head.
“Eric doesn’t exactly like me right now,” I said to Melonie. “If you’re worried about a repeat of what happened to Estelle or Tamala—or whatever he did to you—don’t be.”
“I’ll be home in an hour or so,” she said to her girlfriend.
Her girlfriend glowered at me prior to kissing Melonie sweetly, and continued her strides through the small parking lot of the mostly unoccupied shopping center.
MELONIE DROVE ME HOME in silence. She parked down the street and refused to step foot inside my mother’s—my—home. Together, we walked a trail I hadn’t visited in a very long time. Kifo came along, constantly tugging at the leash with her need to chase every stray leaf that skirted across our path.
I’d avoided the trail since Eric proposed to me there. The place held too many memories for me. Memories I couldn’t deal with. It didn’t bring me the comfort it once did. Memories of standing at this very spot,
having lost my mother, on the verge of losing my dog, broken by a woman Eric destroyed, thinking things couldn’t get worse, came back to torment me.
I knew what I was getting into when I married Eric—then again, he had no idea what he was getting into. I knew the Nikki who was relationship inept would rear her head. I’d never regretted anything more than my visit to the clinic.
After telling her about what Preston had done, I confessed my misdeeds and Eric’s to Melonie while we sat on the park bench overlooking the field and the very parking lot where I discovered the first morsel of truth about Eric; he was willing to kill anyone who stood in his way.
“I’m sorry about what Preston did to you. I’m even more sorry to say I’m not surprised. Don’t let your guard down. You should be careful about Preston. He has a volatile nature with women. What he did to you is nothing compared to what he did to Estelle, or any of the things Estelle told me he did to other women. If he thinks he has nothing to lose, he will come after you again. His father is very good friends with a powerful man—that for some reason the Feds won’t touch. He’s the kind of man that makes detractors stay quiet. He’s not someone you want to cross. He’s worse than Eric. Very much worse.”
“Is his name Victor?”
She nodded. “Victor Mejía. Wow, saying his name gives me chills.”
She wasn’t alone in the sentiment. I wished I could’ve figured out why hearing, or saying the man’s name brought me into a place that made it difficult to breathe.
“Eric will say he’ll protect you,” Melonie continued, “but he couldn’t protect you from Preston and he can’t protect you from Victor. Eric will never say it, but I think he’s scared of him, too. Eric aligns himself with very dangerous men. Men you should be afraid of.”
“Despite the mess standing in the way of me and Eric, I know he would never let anyone hurt me. He would protect me from others. Not all bad things that happen to us are directly because of him.” I scarcely believed my last words, but left them said as they were anyway.
The Starkest Truth (A Breaking Insanity Novel Book 2) Page 21
