Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

LIZZIE

T he moment the flat door opened, I fell into Jane's open arms. Sobbing.

Days later I was still on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the walls.

Why did I have to be in love with someone I hated?

How was it even possible?

Why would the universe allow such a contradiction?

It didn't seem fair or right.

Richard was wrong for me. Dangerous.

Nothing good would come out of our relationship.

All I kept thinking about was the Shakespeare quote from the doomed lovers Romeo and Juliet.

These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume.

That! That right there was Richard and me in a nutshell. Our entire relationship summed up in one sentence. We were too intense, too extreme. Toxic.

And his games!

His fucking games!

Each one was more immersive than the last. I didn't even know my own mind any more… or my body. What started out as a naughty spanking in a public garden had now escalated to me almost being torn apart by a bunch of drunken sex-crazed men.

Where did it end?

How far was too far?

At what point had it stopped being sexy and kinky and started becoming just plain wrong?

Where was the line?

I thought that was the crux of my problem with Richard. I was becoming increasingly aware there was no line with him.

Sex in public? Sure.

Kidnapping? No biggie.

Force your girlfriend into a cage? Just a Friday night for him.

Where did it stop? Wrapping my arms tighter around my middle, a small voice in my head reasoned since Richard was powerful enough and rich enough, I seriously doubted there was a line he wouldn't cross to get what he wanted.

And the problem was he hadn't stopped with my body, he'd fucked with my mind as well. He had me second-guessing everything.

After I stopped crying days later, I finally asked Jane about her conversation with Richard and my drawings. Jane told me she never talked to him. And yet, he had my drawings. I even met with the portrait artist for some early photos in the champagne chiffon dress he had had made. I kept telling her she didn't need to keep his confidence, that he had admitted she had given him the drawings but she was adamant.

Who to believe? Was Jane just keeping his secret? Had he paid her to keep quiet no matter what? I noticed in the week I was gone, Jane had quit her job at the pub. She wouldn't tell me why, only that she decided she didn't want to work and go to school at the same time. A month ago, I had to cover part of her rent! She needed that job… at least she used to.

I started to ask her at least a hundred different times about her relationship with Richard. Did she know him before me? How well? Was she part of his plan? Had our entire friendship been a lie? Each time I stopped. She was my only friend in London and deep down I didn't want to know the truth.

The problem was I knew that was just the tip of the iceberg. My landlord yesterday gave me a strange look when I tried to pay our rent. Telling me he would just get it the usual way. The usual way was me giving him a check from the small insurance settlement I had gotten from my parents' accident. He refused to take it, just kept saying it was paid the usual way. That's when I remembered Richard claiming he paid my rent and had been doing so from the start. That was insane, but when I went to look at my bank account, there were no cancelled rent checks listed and there was way way more money in there than I ever thought possible.

Richard was powerful enough to get my landlord and my roommate to lie but the banks? No, that didn't seem possible. Which meant the only plausible explanation was that he was right. We had met before the cab accident. Then why didn't I remember?

Holding my head in my hands, I tried to stop the spinning thoughts.

It felt like I was on some sick and twisted merry-go-round. That was the problem, I kept circling over the same spot over and over again.

I loved him.

Against all reason, against my better good, against everything… I loved him.

"Why?" asked Jane last night as she handed me wine in our usual mugs.

"I can't explain it. It's just… being with him is more ."

"More?"

"Yeah, more. Everything is bigger, brighter, more intense. Things aren't nice, they're exhilarating. A party isn't just a party, it's a fucking rush walking in on his arm. Dinners? They're insane. The food tastes better and you never know what surprise he has planned for dessert."

Clinking her mug with mine, she smirked, "So is the sex more too?"

I blushed. I hadn't really told Jane any of the kinkier aspects of our relationship. How could I possibly have begun? You know that guy I'm dating? He likes to shove feathered butt plugs up my ass and call me his little bird and I totally get off on it? Uh… no.

"The sex is… off the charts," I said as I lowered my eyes to concentrate on the contents of my mug.

"He's a pretty big guy… is he big … everywhere else?" she asked with an exaggerated wag of her eyebrows.

I hit her with a pillow. "I'm not talking about Richard's cock with you!"

"Well, you can't deny there are some pretty awesome fringe benefits."

We both looked down at the coffee table where I had spread out all the bird pins Richard had bought me. They looked out of place on the dusty and scarred tabletop that was littered with old fashion magazines.

I picked one up and crushed it in my palm, holding it against my heart. A sharp pain had me hissing air through my teeth as I pulled my hand away and opened my palm. The sharp edge of the pin had pricked my palm. A small bead of blood had formed in the center. Placing my palm against my mouth, I licked the crimson drop away.

"I don't know what to tell you, Lizzie. It's like this guy makes you insanely happy and insanely miserable at the same time."

"Exactly!" I said with a huff as I fell back on the sofa, putting the pillow over my face. Holding it close, I kicked out my legs and screamed into its fluffy contents before slamming it down on my lap.

Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I continued, "He makes me so mad, but I can't imagine life without him now."

Jane shrugged. "Men. Can't live with them. Can't kill them."

We clinked mugs and drained the contents.

Now as I sat alone in our flat, I couldn't get him off my mind. I missed him. Despite all the confusion and games and lies, I missed him. I missed the feel of his arms and the smell of his cologne. I missed the dark honey sound of his voice and the way his gaze fixated on me as if I were the only person in the world. I missed the feel of his hand on my lower back as he guided me through a crowd and how he would always feed me tasty bites of his own meal. I missed the look of pride in his eyes when he showed me my dress designs come to life for the first time.

And even if I was going straight to hell for it, I missed the mind-blowing sex.

For the hundred-thousandth time, I picked up my phone and checked for missed calls or texts.

Nothing.

I knew he wouldn't call or text. He hated mobile phones.

I needed to stop thinking about all the good things and think about all the ways he was bad for me.

He was controlling. You mean protective?

He pushed the line. You mean got you out of your comfort zone, made you experience new things?

He was domineering. You mean the way he would push you against a wall and kiss you senseless just like in the movies?

I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him. Was he just as miserable? Maybe he had already found someone new? Like that crazy woman from a few weeks ago. Had he already replaced me with someone more willing to take risks, more adventurous? Someone more willing to play his games?

Oh, my God! Stop it! I shouted to my inner mind.

Enough was enough. This toxic, twisted merry-go-round had to end.

Looking down at the bird pins, I swiped them with my arm, scattering them in a shimmering blur across the floor.

I knew what I had to do…