One Dirty Night - Page 103

“Yes but—”

“Regardless, the chances of you having to sleep with someone are extremely slim.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not following.”

“Tell him where you’re going. Leave a note. Tell him face to face. Do whatever you want, but make sure he knows exactly where you’re going and for what purpose. Prove to him that just because he’s not willing to give you what you need, then someone else will. Gladly. You’ll eventually find another who will rule you and adore you. You’ll fall in love. You’ll give your heart away. And one day, that lucky man will die, just like he will.”

“So…you want me to make him jealous?” My voice turned small. It sounded so petty, so juvenile…like it would never work against someone with his mind made up and flight tickets booked.

“No.” Hunter chuckled. “Show him what it feels like to miss you when you’re alive. He’s so focused on not having you when you’re dead that he’s completely missed how he’ll feel if you’re with someone else. Someone not him. Someone just as killable. Someone just as vulnerable to life and its pitfalls. He thinks he’s being noble by not making you his, but in reality, he’s only ensuring his future will be agony. If he wants you as much as I think he does, then the moment he sees you with another, all his morals and rules will come crashing down.”

“But he already saw me with you…”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I wasn’t a threat. I was merely an inconvenience he had to share you with. He knew my business was my top priority. Our night together and what you felt toward me was purely pleasurable not marriageable.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d say you’re definitely marriage material.”

“And maybe one day, I’ll take that leap. With you or with someone else…but that’s not the point. The point is…” Sucking in a breath, he murmured, “If he sees you with someone else. Someone who could give you everything you want for the rest of your life, then he’ll finally realise that the pain of not having you when you’re alive and willing is a thousand times worse than the pain of having you and losing you to a hypothetical grave. A million times worse. Show him what he has to lose while it’s still his to lose. Make all those years he could love you flash before his eyes. Make him see another in his place. Another man fucking you. Another man taking care of you. A man who will be lucky enough to adore you for decades.”

“But…”

“Make him choose life over death, little witch. Make him choose love over loss, and I personally guarantee, he’ll have you kneeling at his feet before you can open your mouth to say hi.”

His voice darkened. “And if he doesn’t. If he’s so fucking cowardly not to finally admit that he needs you, then I’m coming to get you. I’m going to follow through on my threat to keep you barefoot and bound, and then we’ll see just how long he can survive without the one thing he needs to exist.”

Chapter Fourteen

THE FRONT DOOR CLOSING BEHIND ME MADE me jump.

My hands shook as I slung my handbag strap on the coat rack and dumped my keys in the pretty amber-and-white glass bowl I’d bought at a market last year. The clinging of metal on glass might as well have been a foghorn.

I flinched and toed off my high heels, sinking down a couple of inches as my bare feet kissed the polished floorboards of our small foyer.

I’d done the unimaginable this morning.

I’d not only checked out of my hotel sanctuary—after promising myself I’d stay for three weeks—but I’d also called in sick to work.

A first.

Guilt kept pestering me but…needs must.

I’d only had the strength to do it because today was Nick’s rostered day off, and he probably thought he was safe to stay at home, knowing I was at work.

A scuff and a quick curse came from his room before he appeared in the corridor holding a roll of cellotape. “Ella?” He scowled, his handsome face wearing the frown far too well.

I cursed him for looking so good in black cotton trackpants and a white t-shirt. A smudge marked his hem, looking like dust.

“I thought you were working today.” His frown deepened, his trimmed beard framing tight lips.

Doing my best to stay casual and super chilled, I shrugged and padded through the lounge. “I decided to take a personal day.”

“A personal day?” His shoulders tensed. “Why?”

Cutting over the shagpile rug, I glanced at the couch. The pillows were plumped perfectly, the TV remote placed just so by the trio of vanilla candles I’d put in the middle of the wooden coffee table.