Needing You Close (Ex-Con Duet 2)

My phone rings, the high pitch tone nearly pierces my ears. Everleigh’s photo flashes on the screen, and I whisper a little prayer, hoping she won’t give up on getting in touch with me. “I need to answer that.”

Another dark chuckle escapes him.

I try to push away, and he grabs my dress, ripping the thin material of the sleeve from the hem. I look down, then back at him. “If you think we’re getting married, you’re crazier than I thought. The wedding is off, Robert. So do what you have to do to cancel everything.”

My phone rings again. “Over your dead body,” he hisses.

“I told Everleigh that I’m staying at your house tonight, so she knows I’m with you. She won’t stop calling until I pick up,” I force out, needing to place some fear in him. His image means too much, and if Everleigh catches wind of this, the entire town will know what he did to me by the end of the week. My phone buzzes again, and Robert finally lets me go. I eagerly grab it, but he watches my every move as if he’s waiting to pounce if I say the wrong thing.

“You better watch what you fucking tell her,” he seethes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His shirt is still tucked into his slacks, and the sneer hasn’t vanished from his lips.

“Babe! Everything okay? You sent me a bunch of gibberish in a text,” Everleigh asks as soon as I answer.

Robert picks up the knife, and I’m actually afraid of what he’s capable of doing. The light reflects off the blade as he looks at it, then glances at me. The man I agreed to marry isn’t who’s standing in front of me, trying to force my hand at marriage and threaten me. I try to steady my tone, but I hope to God Everleigh reads between the lines.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I say calmly, and Robert nods, giving me his tacit approval. Robert places the knife in the sink and stalks past me, grabbing his scotch and finishing it before pouring another.

Adrenaline rushes through me like a strong wind in a narrow canyon.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Everything’s great. Dinner was amazing,” I say, forcing myself to smile when I speak so at least he thinks I’m trying.

“No, it’s not. I can tell by the shakiness in your voice. Where are you? Robert’s house?”

I laugh, pretending we’re having a much different conversation. “Of course. We’ll do dinner there one night soon after you get off work. The bisque was incredible. The best I’ve ever had.”

“Now I know something is wrong when you’re holding a one-sided conversation,” she says seriously, and I’m relieved she understands what I’m doing.

“Right, I must’ve texted by accident when I threw it in my purse.” I keep up the act, which pleases the monster who hasn’t taken his eyes from me.

“Alright, I’m coming to get you,” she reassures. “Something’s wrong. I’m bringing my pepper spray.” I hear her walking, accompanied by the dangling of her keys. I’m thankful she’s so observant even when I don’t want her to be. Otherwise, I might not have escaped him tonight.

“Thank you,” I say. “Yeah, brunch tomorrow sounds great. Thanks for checking on me.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang tight, okay?” she adds at the end, then lingers for a few seconds. I don’t say anything, and my silence speaks louder than my words ever could.

“Great, talk to you later.” I end the call.

“Good girl,” Robert coos. “Now we’ve got some things to discuss, don’t we?”

I check the clock on my phone and hope Everleigh hurries. When she shows up unexpectedly, Robert won’t be able to force me to stay. I want to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible before he hurts me again. The way he’s acting makes me think he will, if needed.

“Alright.” I sit on the edge of the couch, counting down the minutes.

“The wedding will happen, Gemma. You’ve already committed. You know how I feel about people who back out of contracts, and when you accepted my proposal, you verbally agreed to be my wife. So, it’s happening, and things will happen as discussed.”

“Why did you have me followed?” I snap, ignoring his words.

He grins, not at all concerned that I found out. He’s practiced the doting husband act so much that he can switch it on and off so easily. That’s more terrifying than his words could ever be. “Followed? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back and takes a large gulp of his scotch.

“I saw the receipt in your desk for the private investigator you hired. When I called you all panicked about someone following me, you didn’t seem to care, and it’s because you were behind it all along. What’s wrong with you? What kind of man hires someone to stalk the woman he supposedly loves and trusts?”