It wasn’t a real choice. I long to tell her that. If she didn’t marry who Caroline wanted, we would have been ostracized from the family. “I was as clear as I could possibly be.”
She had me in her house. She’s capable of hurting people. Of damaging them for life. So Petra’s suggestion feels like a condemnation of what I did, even though it can’t possibly be. She doesn’t know. Petra is assuming that Caroline is the woman we’ve always known. Cold and demanding and judgmental, but not a psychopath. Petra is assuming that Caroline is a garden-variety Constantine. And Caroline, for all she’s done to me, has never done anything to Petra beyond choosing her husband.
“Well, maybe you should give her a call. Set things straight. It’ll be a little awkward, but you don’t want people wondering if they’re invited to a wedding that doesn’t exist.” My sister laughs a little. It’s an attempt to smooth things over, but I’m all jagged edges. I breathe deep, trying to clear that knot from my stomach. Trying not to be sick. A notice in the paper—Jesus.
“I can’t call Caroline.” I don’t know what else to tell Petra. Where to start the story. How to tell it in a way that she would understand. “That’s not really an option for me right now.”
“About that.” She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. Petra always used to do that when she was thinking. She would lean against the countertop and look out the window. “Is that because Leo Morelli won’t let you call her? Is he controlling your actions?”
All of my emotions tumble free. Guilt that I didn’t tell her earlier. Shame that I believed what the Constantines thought about Leo. Hurt that she’s come to such a wrong conclusion. Such a terribly wrong conclusion. “Why would you think—Petra, why would you think he wouldn’t let me call Caroline?”
“Cash told me you were with him. At his house.”
I put my hand over my eyes to cover the burn of my tears. I haven’t heard from Cash, or talked to Cash, since he lured me outside to get kidnapped by Caroline’s henchman. And now he’s telling Petra things about me. It’s more than the rug coming out from under my feet. It’s the whole floor.
“Are you okay, Hales? Should I—” Her voice drops again. “Should I call the police?”
“Jesus, Petra, no. I’m fine. I promise.”
“How did you end up with him, though? That’s not like you. Cash said something bizarre about some papers Dad signed, and I can’t—” This time, when she laughs, the sound is all hurt confusion. “You’re not like that. You don’t date guys like that. Stay at their houses.”
“Guys like that,” I snap, and then I bite it back, I shut it down. Petra doesn’t know Leo, and I haven’t done a damn thing about it. I haven’t told her the truth. I haven’t stood up for him, the way I should have. Not that it’ll ever convince her, or any of the Constantines. It just hurts. Because Rick actually is a guy like that. Rick was the one who told me that I was doing great while he had his hands on me. I didn’t want his hands on me. I detested his hands on me. Thinking about it now makes me sick. Because I know what it is to want someone. I have always wanted Leo. From the first moment I saw him, I wanted him.
“Haley,” she says, and I realize how silent I’ve gone, how cold.
“I’m really, really okay.” It’s a lie. I’m not okay, but it’s not because of Leo. The only reason I’m sleeping at night at all is because of Leo. A tear leaks out from under my palm. Petra can never hear that I’m crying. She would assume it was because of him, when really it’s Caroline. When really I’m tired from being woken by nightmares. When I want Leo to be here.
When I’m not sure if I’ll ever be fine. If we’ll ever be fine. If Caroline won’t leave us alone, then how can we be fine? How can we be happy?
The door to the bedroom opens and closes. A pause. And then swift footsteps over to my side of the bed. Leo tugs my hand away from my eyes, and when I open them he’s on one knee in front of me, dark eyes taking everything in. He runs a steadying hand down one of my legs with enough pressure to keep from setting me off.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” says Petra. “You sound like you’re crying.”
I look into Leo’s eyes. At his viciously beautiful face. The curve of his lips. The mouth that’s been everywhere on me. That I want everywhere on me now. “I promise, I’m not. And I’m also not getting married. I want to be here with Leo.”
Leo narrows his eyes.
“Okay.” Petra sighs. “Will you call me if you need anything? I’m always here, you know. We’re sisters no matter what.”
“No matter what,” I echo. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Hales. Text me soon.”
She hangs up before I can answer, and I let the phone fall to the bed. “Tell me,” says Leo.
“Caroline put an announcement in the paper. For my engagement to Rick.” My chin trembles. “I just—I just don’t think—” The tears come, and damn it, I wasn’t going to do this. I wasn’t going to cry first thing in the morning. “I don’t think she’s ever going to stop.”
Leo pulls me off the bed, down into his arms. He lets me cry until I’m done, running his fingers through my hair, tugging at it when he’s removed all the knots. Little bits of pain and pressure to remind me that it’s him.
What irony, to need pain like this. Or maybe it’s not irony. Maybe it’s meant to be.
He has enough pain to spare.
Even after the tears and shudders have left me, he holds my body. He cradles me, his touch at once soothing and inflaming me. But he doesn’t make me promises he can’t keep. He doesn’t promise to stop Caroline, because she can’t be stopped. It’s like hoping that an earthquake won’t shake the earth. He’s strong, but even stone can shatter.
Chapter Fourteen
Leo
I’m drifting into hard-won sleep under a blanket of pain when Haley screams.
I hear her breath first. An enormous gasp, like something’s come to the side of the bed in the night. The gasp dumps adrenaline into my veins but the scream is a baseball bat to my heart. It sends it flying. She’s sitting up, her hands frantic at the covers. Pushing down. Searching, searching, searching. “No.” She breaks into a panicked sob and screams again.
It’s not like her screams when I’m fucking her. Those are all hot pleasure and pleas for more pain. This sounds like she’s dying.
Or someone else is dying.
Over the last several days her nightmares have been getting more frequent, but this is the worst I’ve seen.
I take her by the shoulders and she startles, all of her resisting. “Stop,” she screams at me, her eyes wide. Cold dread bleeds down my spine. Her eyes are open but unseeing. This is worse than a nightmare. It’s become something else. She claws at the covers. Tears them back. “Help me.”
The door to my bedroom bursts open. “Mr. Morelli—”
“You have to get out.” Gerard has rushed to the side of the bed, closely followed by two agents from the security team. “All of you.” He’s already reaching for his phone. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t call anyone. Just get out. Take them and get out.”