“I didn’t think it was important.”
“Of course it was important! It’s about me.”
He merely looks at me.
“I’ve been cooperative. You can’t say that I made it hard for you to keep me safe. So there was no reason for you to keep things from me. I would’ve quit contacting Courtney if that’s what you wanted!”
Something flickers in his gaze. I realize he isn’t going to tell me why he’s being so secretive when there’s no reason to behave in such a manner. He can be high-handed, but this is beyond that. When he asks me to do something, I might push if I’m uncertain. But when he explains the rationale, I generally agree he’s right and go with his plan. Like when he asked me to move in. Or get the internship at the foundation. Or told me I needed new clothes, and so on.
There’s no reason for him to hide things, and I’ve proven myself reasonable enough that he should’ve told me. I deserve that much respect. Unless…
All my senses are prickling. Something’s up. This isn’t about a lack of respect. He’s being too secretive.
“Roy Wilks is a cancer, and I’m going to excise it,” he says finally. “Trust me.”
“Hard to trust somebody who won’t tell me the whole story. What else have you done?”
“I hacked your phone. Intercepted the birthday present from your stepbrother.”
My hands shake. So Roy didn’t forget. And all this time, I was celebrating that he did. “Don’t you know keeping things like that from me gives me a false sense of safety? Which then puts me in greater danger?”
“Don’t tell me you were looking forward to his gift. It wasn’t anything pretty. And if you’re worried about thanking him properly, I already took care of that.” His smile is entirely too self-satisfied.
It doesn’t do a thing to lessen my anxiety or fury. “What did you do?”
“Sent him a box with a limp rubber dick inside. Seemed fitting.” He takes a step forward, his expression inscrutable.
I retreat an equal distance.
His eyes narrow, but I don’t move. He’s the one who destroyed my trust. Played me for a fool. Hacking into my phone. Pretending to be me to contact Courtney, knowing she’s been talking to Roy. Intercepting packages from Roy and sending things to him in my name.
Then… He said Roy has survived because he lives too far away. Which means: too far away from Tolyan.
“You know exactly where Roy is, and you want to lure him out,” I say, my lips rubbery.
“That’s right.”
Everything that’s happened since Tolyan and I met starts to make sense, like a jigsaw puzzle coming together. Ugly emotions pierce my heart like hot daggers, then cut straight down until the pain pools in my gut. “So I’m…what? Bait? Roy said he’s going to come for me when I’m at my happiest. So that’s why you were so nice to me. You have to make sure I look happy to everyone in case Roy is having me watched.”
Tolyan doesn’t bother to deny it.
“Did you have that flasher show up at the jogging trail, too?” I demand. My hands curl into tight fists, and my nails dig into my palms.
“No. He had nothing to do with me.”
It doesn’t make me feel better. I can’t decide if I want to scream or sob. How stupid was I to be grateful and happy? I thought I was in love. I thought he cared. Thank God I never told him I loved him. That would’ve been the cherry on this cake of humiliation.
My sleep-deprived head throbs with the tsunami of awful revelations. But my heart is bleeding. I want to cling to the only thing I have left—my pride—and walk out. But that’s the stupidest thing I could do. I didn’t suffer all this time, be made into a fool for weeks, just to walk out into the city and get killed by Roy or his henchmen.
“Do you have anything to say?” I ask, half desperate. I don’t know exactly what I want him to say, but I need to hear him say something.
“What do you want me to say?” he asks as though he’s willing to tell me what I need to hear to calm down.
I realize I want him to explain himself. Or apologize, at least. I want to know that even if he started out with the intent to use me, his feelings have changed…
I want to know he cares about me.
But he just stands there looking at me. I realize he isn’t going to explain or apologize or tell me he cares.
And I’m an idiot for expecting things to be different.
“Okay, I can’t do this. I gotta go.”
“It’s too dangerous outside,” he says flatly.
“I meant to my room.” I’m not dumb enough to risk my safety, no matter how furious I am. “Alone. To get some sleep.” I shoot him a resentful look over a shoulder. “You don’t think we’re going to just act like everything’s fine, do you?”
And with that, I go to my room and slam the door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tolyan
Four days have passed since Angelika’s discovery. The little fawn is still in a snit. She does what she must to keep herself safe, which is good—some women act like emotional idiots and jeopardize their own well-being. But that’s about where her reasonableness ends. She gazes out the window as we go to the foundation, she doesn’t say anything to me when we’re in the office and she’s mulishly silent on the way home.
Cutely childish, but her options for expressing her anger are limited. She can’t leave, she can’t throw things at me, she can’t strangle me or stab me. Since I cook, she can’t even spit in my food.
So I get the cold, silent treatment.
The little fawn wants me to say I’m sorry. But I don’t want to lie. To be truly sorry, I must also believe that not only was I wrong, but if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t do it again.
But I haven’t done anything wrong. And if I could go back in time, I would simply be more careful so she didn’t find out.
However, that isn’t what she wants to hear. So I keep it to myself, and we maintain our odd sort of detente.
I go over to Dominic’s office. Antoine and I meet every two months to discuss security details. We alternate locations; this one happens to be on Antoine’s turf.
Antoine’s a dark-haired man in his late twenties, raised in the States but educated in England, which is where his ridiculous accent came from. He refused to lose it because it helps him “get more chicks.” Now that he’s married, he doesn’t need to keep up the pretense, but his wife likes the accent, so he keeps on as though he’s a Londoner.
We meet in his office. It’s sizable, but not overly so. He doesn’t keep much in the space, which is smart. But he has a framed photo of himself and his wife. She’s smiling by his side in the picture, like she has everything she could ever dream of.
I’m not a big fan of his wife. She’s Dominic’s baby sister, and I don’t believe anybody who shares his blood can really be good…except Thomas, because Lizochka’s goodness and brilliance can overpower the stupidity in his DNA.
The woman’s expression in the picture stirs something uncomfortable. I tamp it down before it can swell up and distract me.
Antoine hands me the security plan for Lizochka, Thomas and Dominic. I scan it. It’s good enough for most circumstances, but not right now.