Dared by a Dangerous Man

Author:Cleo Peitsche
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 8

I stood in front of my apartment and stared dumbly at the lock. In fact, I had no idea how I’d gotten back, but I was soaking wet. I’d driven out of the office parking lot in some sort of fugue state, then, unable to trust myself behind the wheel, I’d parked in a convenience store and started walking.

Bits and pieces came back. Cutting across the football field, the sprinklers erupting when I was halfway across. I remembered it now. Someone had been yelling at me, trying to warn me. Everything after that… I remembered trudging up the stairs. Sort of. How long had I been standing here?

My arm seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as I lifted my keyring. The strength to shove the key into the lock was almost beyond me, and for a moment I stood there, unsteady on my feet, and wondered if I shouldn’t sit on the top step and wait a few minutes.

Or lie down there.

I continued thinking about it even as I turned the key, twisted the handle, stumbled through the opening door. I was halfway to my bed before I realized I hadn’t closed the door hard enough to shut it.

With a choked moan, I fell forward, onto the mattress, the bedding crumpled and twisted and smelling like Corbin, like me. I hadn’t made my bed when I’d last been here. How long ago?

I was soaked. Getting my sheets wet. I’d have to put them into the dryer if I didn’t move soon, and I didn’t think I had any quarters. It had been easier to do laundry at Corbin’s place, with his top-of-the-line machines. I’d always balked at letting his house cleaners wash and fold my dirty clothes.

Suddenly, I loathed quarters. And my wet clothes, and my bed, and my apartment, and Corbin; though I still loved him desperately, I hated him more than I’d hated anyone before.

I needed to get up, but I couldn’t move.

All the different ways Corbin had broken my heart had never, ever hurt this badly. This was the first time I’d felt hopeless.

This was the first time when he was the problem, not his job.

A situation like this called for hitting the bars with my best friend. But I couldn’t call up Veronica, tell her to get her ass into town and help me drink my no-good boyfriend into nothing but a blurry memory. I didn’t want to forget him. I wanted to keep him.

There was what he’d done—not telling me. But none of that mattered now.

All that mattered was what he planned to do.

Really, what could he do? She was his wife. She’d fucking come back from the dead, an exotic Lazarus with nice lingerie and a French accent.

I couldn’t compete with that. Or with her, with everything she’d doubtless been through. If anyone could put her back together again, it was Corbin. And he’d loved her first. Loved her longer. Surely loved her more.

The position I’d fallen into, a pillow bunched up under

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