“Go upstairs, pack your shit, and go. The guys’ll open the gate. Go. You’re free.”
“Why?”
“I can’t control this rage in me. You stay and I will break you. I know it, Athena. You know it. You’re almost broken now. You need to go now before I finish you off. I’m that fucked. And you’re that close. Take your casino money, hock the ring, and go. Leave town. Have a nice life. Don’t ever let me know where you are. Don’t.”
I stared at the muscled details of his back as he resumed punching. I stepped to the side and caught his profile. His jaw was tight, his eyes were narrow and he was punching the bag so hard.
“One.” He said through gritted teeth and then there was a loud thud as he punched the bag.
“I don’t wanna go.”
“Two,” he said and punched the bag harder.
“Tommy, I don’t.”
“Three. I don’t have the necklace, Athena. It can’t stop me.” He said through gritted teeth and punched again a bunch of times. Pow, pow, pow pow pow.
“I’m sorry I got stuck in my head the last few days. I’ve been through a lot. It’s just been, I just need…”
“Four.” Pow! I think it must’ve been with all of his strength.
“I need you. I want us to figure this out. Together, we can…”
“Five!” he yelled and then he turned around and faced me and whipped his gloves off and to the floor.
I stood there staring him in the eye, summoning courage while facing the rage emerging on his face, “You’re not fucking Dumbo the goddamn Elephant who needs the feather to fly, Tommy Ferrano. You don’t need the necklace. I’ll be the necklace. Fuck me, take me however you need to, then hold me afterwards and tell me you love me. Do what you need to do for us both to get back to where we need to be.” I took a step forward.
“Six,” he said it softly, shaking his head back and forth, his voice and his eyes stone cold, warning me.
I took a step back, “What happens if I’m still here when you get to ten? Are you gonna hurt me? Are you going to…what? Kill me?”
“Seven.” He took one step forward.
“Babe…” I pleaded.
“If I get to ten, Tia,” he growled, “if I get there and you’re here, you are getting hurt. Because it means you’re never allowed to leave. This is your one chance, baby girl. One chance. Take it or accept me for the fucked up sadistic prick I am. Take it or be prepared to be everything I need you to be for me. The love of my life. The only thing that keeps me from going postal. Be sure you’re ready, ready to be there for me, to be what I need whether that means I need to hold you, spank you, whip you, fuck you, destroy you.”
I gulped.
His voice was low, guttural, words came through clenched teeth, “Eight. Make your mind up right the fuck NOW!”
The room might as well have been devoid of oxygen.
“Nine.” He folded his arms across his chest and his brows were up. I stared at him. And then I opened my mouth and closed it. Then I opened it again and blew out a long breath, then I turned my back on him and went to leave. I got three steps away and I stopped in my tracks and stood there with my back to him. He said nothing. I stood still. Time stood still. Then, after an eternity, he said, “Ten.” His voice sounded hoarse, pained. And that’s when I started to run for the stairs.
A few paces and he tackled me to the floor. He was on top of me.
“What in the fuck?” He had my arms pinned above my head.
I went limp and looked at him.
“You wait until I get to ten and that’s when you decide to run?” Rage shot out of his eyes and his voice boomed like thunder, “What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”
“It means it’s too late. I can’t go.”
“Do you or don’t you want to fucking go?”
“I don’t. But I wanted you to stop me, show me you couldn’t let me go.” I wriggled one arm free from his grasp, took the iPhone out of my robe pocket, and hit play on the video app; it played the Stone Sour version of Wicked Game. It was the closest thing I’d found to the version we’d heard in Vegas. I’d listened to it a hundred times in the past few days from the computer.