Chapter 54 Jade

54 JADE

NOW

I’m trying to get my head around this plan. I’ve got to take Rob to the gym, make sure we’re alone, and then Darcy, Kate, and Camilla will come in and question him about Antoni and the guesthouse killings.

Oh God. I feel sick at the thought of it. But what choice do I have? He tried to kill me. If I go to the police about it, he’ll tell them I’m making it up. And what proof do I have?

I stare at the box of pills in my suitcase. Thirty-six acetaminophen. For a moment I think about taking them all. Would it be enough to kill me? Maybe, if I made sure nobody found out.

“Jade, baby,” he shouts up the stairs. “What are you doing up there?”

“Just getting ready for the gym,” I answer, careful not to let my voice give me away. I put the box back. I’m not confident enough.

“The gym?”

“Yeah,” I call back. “You joining me?”

I’m keeping it casual. This is my strength: my knowledge of Rob. I know him better than he thinks I do. I know him so well I can sense when he starts itching to hurt me.

But I didn’t expect to almost drown.

And it’s doubly unnerving to me that a man here did drown. The Spanish guy, Antoni, whom Rob exploded at in the restaurant. His body was found on one of the beaches at the Emerald Island Resort this morning. Rob was in bed with me all night. I didn’t sleep very well and he was there the whole time.

The police have spoken to him about it, but they haven’t arrested him.

He appears in the bedroom doorway.

I turn, then, my skin gleaming from the aftersun I just put on, giving him a good view of my naked body. His breathing slows, and I see he’s hard.

“How are the lungs?” he asks. He lifts a hand and places the palm flat between my breasts. “After your little accident this morning?”

I smile. This is his thing now. To inquire about the injuries he inflicts on me as though they happened by accident. As though he had nothing to do with it. I don’t think I can find the words for what a mindfuck this is. It actually makes me wonder if I’m going mad. If I just imagine him hurting me.

“Oh, fine,” I say, and it’s the truth. My lungs are fine. But I feel sick to my stomach and weightless with terror, because I am certain this man is actually going to kill me one day.

“So, what do you say? Shall we go to the gym?”

He looks at me, skeptical. “ You want to go to the gym?”

“I’m your wife,” I say, the words almost making me sick. “You love the gym, so I love the gym.”

He’s looking interested now, his face softening again.

“You know I love you,” he says. Then, lowering his hand to my stomach: “And I love our future babies.”

I falter then, wanting so badly for these words to be true.

And in his eyes, I see they are. In Rob’s own, sick way, they absolutely are.