by Stella Noir
He twitches as I touch him and immediately moves away from me, and I look at him with surprise.
“What is that?” I ask him softly. “What happened - who did that to you?”
Immediately, he pulls another tee over his head, and I can’t help but notice the soft cotton, which most definitely did not come from Target or some similar store.
This is becoming more and more confusing, and I realize I don’t trust him anymore. He’s different … Something has switched inside Dylan, and it’s scaring the living hell out of me.
“It’s nothing,” he says with a snarl, and I step back, feeling more than a little shocked at his violent tone.
He turns around quickly and offers me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Lola,” he says softly, switching moods so quickly it takes me a moment to adapt to this new personality. “I got these in juvi, when I went there for Adam’s murder.”
He looks so sincere my eyes widen at his confession, so I swallow the lump in my throat and just nod quickly, trying to forget about the subject altogether.
“Okay,” I say softly, and a grin takes over his face. But instead of reassuring me, it only makes me more nervous and my body is stiff as he moves in for a hug.
Because how on Earth can he remember getting those scars, when he lost his memory? And I only told him about juvi the previous day …
Something is going on here, and I’m not sure I like it. It’s sinister and dark - but I’m determined to get to the bottom of it, even if I uncover secrets I wish had stayed under the rug.
“Want to get into bed?” he asks me, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Somehow, I had thought one of us would be sleeping on the love seat in the room, not that we would share a bed together.
And as much as I would have loved that only a few days ago, now it seems … strange somehow.
I nod reluctantly and we both climb inside the king sized bed. I try to settle under the duvet awkwardly, but before I can do that, Dylan pulls me tightly into his embrace.
I shift uncomfortably, trying to adjust my weight, when I feel his hot breath on my neck. I shiver involuntarily, and not because I’m enjoy it so much.
“Sleep tight, princess,” he whispers in my ear, but instead of sounding reassuring and sweet, it sends ominous chills down my spine.
My last thought before I fall asleep is how wrong it all feels … Like I’m not even with the same person.
*
I spend the entire night tossing and turning, but Dylan keeps pulling me back into his arms every time I wiggle my way out of them.
I can’t get a wink of sleep and I know my under eye bags will be enormous the next day.
Finally, at around 3 a.m. according to the clock on the nightstand, I’ve had enough. Softly, I remove Dylan’s arms from around me and manage to get out of the bed without making a single sound.
I wrap myself in my robe and tiptoe to the door. My hand is already on the handle, turning it ever so slowly, when a voice interrupts my actions.
“Where are you going?” Dylan asks, his tone sleepy, but still kind of dark … Like he’s angry I’ve tried to sneak away.
My body stiffens as I turn around, offering him a nervous smile. He’s supporting himself on his elbow, looking at me like some kind of predator … like he’s going to spring out of the bed and come after me any minute now.
It makes me so scared, I want to run out of the room immediately and find shelter.
Instead, I keep the smile plastered on my face as I give an apologetic shrug. “Just had to use the bathroom,” I say shyly.
He looks at me suspiciously, pointing to the other door in the bedroom which leads to the en-suite guest bathroom. “There’s one right there,” he remarks dryly.
“I know,” I hurry to explain, the lies spilling out of my mind with such ease it makes me wonder. “I just wanted to go to my own bathroom. I forgot to apply moisturizer, and it’s been keeping me up all night.”
The lie is so stupid, I watch for him to get angry, realizing I just completely made up a story to get out of sneaking back to my own room. The seconds tick by slowly, but eventually, his stern look turns into a grin.
“You women and your creams and potions,” he says with a sleepy smile, motioning for me to come back to him. “You don’t need all that … You’re gorgeous like this already.”
I smile hesitantly and come back to the bed. As soon as I’m standing next to it, he pulls me back under the duvet, pressing his body against mine as he envelops me in a hug.
I’m regretting my missed chance already, wishing I had made it out of the room and wistfully thinking about my bed … Soft, cold, and most of all, empty.
He presses even closer to me and I immediately feel the length of his hardened cock against my ass. He’s hard, but for some reason, it doesn’t turn me on at all.
Instead, it makes me feel vulnerable and scared, and those are not the emotions you want to connect with the love of your life.
I hear his breathing grow slower and deeper, and I realize he’s asleep again. But this time, his hands around me are so tight, I can’t even consider the possibility of escape. Realizing I’m trapped for the night, I resume my sleepless stage, my heart beating erratically in my chest.
Chapter 49
The morning is strange, but thankfully, I wake up after an hour of fitful sleep and Dylan isn’t there.
Andrews calls me later that day. I’ve been holed up in the house all day long, wandering around with Love on my tail. Dylan decided to go out, claiming he needed some fresh air.
What is weird though is the relief that flooded my body when he told me he wouldn’t be around today. Surely I should want to be with the man I love every second of every day … And not shivering every time he touches me, overtaken by fear and panic.
I think these things through all day, and I still don’t have a conclusion when Andrews calls me. My hello is strained and tired.
“Are you okay?” he asks with concern, and I realize in that instant I trust this man, who really does not deserve my patience, more than I do Dylan.
It makes me scared, but not because it’s a strange fact … but because I know Dylan will be coming home any minute now, and Andrews won’t be able to protect me this time around.
“I’m fine,” I say, deciding not to confess how I feel. I don’t need to give him another excuse to get on Dylan’s back, when he has other things on his mind. Primarily getting Venetia back where she belongs - which is a dark solitary prison cell, if you ask me. Add some restraints, too, the woman is insane after all.
“I wanted to let you know you have a tail,” he continues, apparently taking the bait which was my answer. “There’s an officer outside your house right now and he will follow you in case you need to go somewhere. It’s just a precaution, and I’m sure everything will be fine.”
I move the curtains from the window and glance outside. Sure enough, there’s a nondescript car parked in front of the gates that bar the entrance to my house. I even see a silhouette inside the vehicle, and it calms me down instantly.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely to Andrews.
“Just so you know. And I’ll update you as soon as we hear something new,” he says next. We then say our goodbyes and I disconnect the call, staring at the cell phone in my hand.
At least, if anything were to happen … there’s a cop outside, waiting to help me if anything went down. It calms me to know that, making me feel a little safer.
But it’s hard to admit it’s not only because of Venetia that I am scared … Dylan’s sinister attitude definitely has something to do with it as well.
Speak of the devil.
I hear the front door opening and I slowly make my way to the hall, where Dylan is just shrugging off his jacket.
“Hey,” I say carefully, to which he just replies with a grunt. I furrow my brows and give him a questioning look, but he refuses to meet my eye.
“Bad day?” I finally ask after a long, uncomfortab
le and pretty awkward pause.
“You might say that,” he replies icily, going through the room into the living area. I follow behind him just fast enough to see Love come up to him, wagging her tail excitedly. But as soon as he comes closer, she whimpers and runs into a corner.
What the hell is going on here? I wonder. She used to love him and follow him around like … well, a lost puppy. Ever since we came back yesterday she’s been almost scared of him, staying away and whimpering when he comes closer.
Instead of petting the puppy, Dylan snarls an insult at her and my eyes widen in shock as I crouch next to Love and pet her, whispering to her reassuringly. “You really shouldn’t treat her like that,” I say to Dylan. “She’s just a puppy … She did nothing wrong.”
“What’s it to you?” he asks angrily, and my patience is growing thin as I stand up, Love hiding behind me as if she knows Dylan might hurt her.
“What is going on with you, Dylan?” I finally ask, my voice shaking as the words come out of my mouth. He just stares at me blankly, so I decide to go on, my heart beating nervously in my chest. “You’re acting so strange … I understand, you were shot, you lost your memory. But you’re a completely different person.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he replies, his voice harsh and pained, and my brows knit together with worry as I rush over to his side.
“Talk to me about this,” I say softly. “We can solve everything together … Like we always have.” I stroke his arm hesitantly, but he recoils at my touch, so I move away quickly.
“Don’t lecture me,” he says coldly. “And I don’t need your pity. I can solve my problems by myself, and I most definitely do not need your help.”
He stares at me with that snarl on his face, and I return a confused look, having no idea what is going on in his head. Could it be that the accident messed with him? Or has he always had this dark side, and I just chose not to see it?
I don’t know which of the two is worse.
“Okay,” I say, trying to remain as calm as possible and not piss him off any more. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I turn to leave, but he’s next to me in a split second, grabbing my forearm with unforseen force. I look him straight in the eye and I can feel my heart pumping blood into every vein in my body with the adrenalin rushing through.
“Let go of me,” I say calmly, and he just stares hard at my face.
There’s something dark in his expression, and for a moment I actually think he might hurt me … But then he lets go of me so suddenly I almost tumble to the floor.
I move away quickly and walk out of the room to the backyard, where Love comes around the corner. Since that first night, she’s been afraid of Dylan, always moving away and whimpering when he comes to the room.
She spends most of her time in the backyard now, and as sad as it is, I envy her her hiding space, because I don’t have one myself.
Chapter 50
Most of my day is spent outside. I go for a swim in our pool, deeming the water just warm enough since the day is cloudless and sunny.
Dylan doesn’t make an appearance, and I’m thankful for that at least.
Finally, when dusk falls, I retreat to the house with Love cautiously following in my step, always looking around her as if checking if Dylan is near.
I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t like it one bit.
But when I come inside, the table is set for two, a candle stick in the middle of it, a flame burning slowly. There’s a pot roast on the table, still steaming, and Dylan is carving into it.
He raises his eyes to meet mine and smiles at me happily, so different from his previous expression it sends jolts of electricity through me.
See? I ask myself. He’s perfectly normal, and nothing is wrong. It was just your imagination playing tricks on you.
“I was just going to call you,” Dylan says, striding over to stand by my side. He presses a kiss to my cheek and my hand flies up, as if I were trying to defend myself. He looks at me with a weird expression and I smile apologetically, pretending I just wanted to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and not fight him off.
Fuck, this is awkward.
“Dinner’s on the table,” he announces victoriously and I reward him with a small smile, heading for the table.
“Looks delicious,” I compliment him, and he actually pulls out my chair for me.
I sit down and look at the beautiful feast he’s prepared. There’s the roast, mashed potatoes, even a green bean casserole. I compliment him again and he sits down with a smile that is best described as smug.
“Wine?” he offers and I nod enthusiastically, thinking the alcohol might serve to relieve some tension. He fills up two glasses with red wine, and I choose not to tell him I usually prefer something white and sweet.
“To us, and finally regaining what was lost,” he says, and we clink our glasses together. Dylan watches me eagerly as I drink from my glass.
God, I hate red wine, I think as I fight to keep the liquid down. It has this weird aftertaste that is familiar somehow, and it’s a struggle to swallow it.
But as soon as I do, I’m rewarded with a smile from Dylan.
“Bottoms up,” he says happily, and I smile shyly.
“I’ll give it a moment, to savour the taste,” I reply, and a brief look of annoyance crosses his face before he nods and we tuck into our dinner.
The dinner is awkward, with me struggling to make a conversation happen, but as we eat, Dylan gets more and more snappy. Finally, he leans over to refill my glass even though I have barely drunk any.
Though he seems to have no problem with the wine, having downed to many glasses to count. As he stumbles across the table, I realize he’s totally hammered.
And that is just a second before he spills the wine on my white broderie summer dress, making an ugly violet splotch in the middle of it.
“Fuck,” he curses loudly, and I smile politely, even though my blood is boiling at this point. “Sorry, Lola.”
“Not a problem,” I reply, my tone chilly. “I’ll just try to get the stain out.”
Even though this is one of my favorite dresses, at least it’s a way to get away from the awkward meal. I rush into the kitchen and begin by dabbing some water on the stain, which only makes it bigger and splotchier.
I should’ve listened to the housekeeper when she explained how to get wine out of clothes. Of course, now it’s too late - for my dress at least.
As I’m washing up in the sink, I see some remnants in it. Confused, I swipe a finger at the stains, not sure how they got there. The housekeeper does such a wonderful job, and it’s quite strange that she would leave stains like these.
I realize it’s something thick and dark red, almost black.
Confused, I wash my hands and return to the table.
I realize when I come back that Dylan has managed to empty an entire bottle of wine, and it annoys me to no end to realize he’s been drinking white while I was stuck with the strange-tasting red liquid.
But I don’t have time to dwell on it for too long, because I come in just in time to see him run a hand through his hair.
And his hands are … so dirty.
It looks like he’s been digging in the dirt, his hands stained with something dark and disgusting.
“What’s on your hands?” I ask, speaking my mind for once.
He looks at me with confusion, his eyes dancing across my face, and I realize he’s really out of it.
“Drink the wine, Lola,” comes a voice from behind me, and I turn around in a split second, my heart beginning to hammer loudly in my chest as I realize the familiar tone.
Because right there, behind me, there’s Venetia. Dylan’s sister who has been trying to kill me since we were teenagers, and who murdered my husband, then escaped from jail somehow.
“V-Venetia,” I sputter with shock, my eyes dancing around the room, looking for escape. My eyes land on Dylan and my heart pounds even lou
der when I realize we’re both in danger.
“Dylan,” I say, trying to keep as calm as possible, but realizing the panic has made its way into my voice. “Dylan, you need to call the police right now.”
He gives me a drunk, blank look and my heart does a somersault in my chest as I realize I’m not getting to him. “This is Venetia,” my voice trembles. “She’s here to hurt me! Do something, I beg you …”
And then he does the most awful thing he could do in this situation, making my blood freeze with fear in my veins as I stare at him in horror.
Because Dylan tilts his head back and lets out an amused, hearty laugh. He just laughs and laughs and laughs until his throat is sore, and my eyes dance between him and Venetia, who also has a smug look on her face.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask finally, my voice shaking as the words come out of my mouth.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Dylan says with a drunken voice. “You still have no idea, do you?”
Chapter 51
“No idea about what?” I ask in confusion, my voice shaking as I speak. What the hell is going on here? I keep wondering in my mind.
Dylan stands up and comes towards me, unstable on his legs. I can smell the alcohol on him from feet away, but currently, I’m too preoccupied staring at Venetia to realize what exactly is going on.
As soon as Dylan comes closer, I duck behind him, seeking shelter behind his broad shoulders. But all he does is laugh, and finally, he pulls me from behind him like I’m nothing but a rag doll.
He places me in front of him, between him and Venetia and my eyes dart between them as I take in the situation. Somehow, they appear to be working together, I realize with shock as I see their mirrored expression of glee.
My heart sinks with the realization, and once again, I feel like Dylan is a completely different person. This isn’t the man I fell in love with … and I refuse to believe it’s only because of the amnesia, which is a story that is becoming harder and harder to believe as time passes.
“Explain,” I demand in a shaky voice. “Please … I’m so confused.”