Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1)
Page 35
At the top of the stairs, I was startled to notice the lights were on in a bedroom down the hall.
That’s odd, I thought to myself. I had never even seen that door open before. With a pit stop in Damien’s room, I divested myself of my shoes and the garment bag then walked down the hall, intending to investigate. When I was almost at the doorway, a figure emerged, almost barreling into me.
“Oh, Olivia. Hi.”
Bella stood in front of me, dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a blood-red cami. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in a towel and, as my shocked gaze traveled over her, I noticed her feet were bare.
What the hell is she doing in Damien’s apartment? Has she had a shower here? I shot a hawkish glance behind her to see several boxes strewn about the room. Moving boxes.
“Sorry if I startled you.” I was sure my face registered pure surprise and confusion. “I didn’t know when you’d be back, but this is the only time I could come. And after Damien called me today, well, I figured I should take care of this as soon as possible.”
“What are you doing here?” My voice was strained as my brain struggled to catch up to what my eyes had seen. A cold wave of dread washed over me as I stared at her.
Her expression changed and her eyes narrowed. She cocked her head at me and then her lips turned up in a quizzical fashion.
“He hasn’t told you, has he?”
“Told me what?” I wanted to back away from her. I knew she was going to tell me something bad. Something about Damien.
She put her hands on her hips and snorted. She was almost gleeful. I took a step away, and then another step. She stayed her ground, shaking her head at me with undisguised pity.
“Well, I’d tell you,” she drawled, chuckling to herself, “but it’s not my secret to tell.”
My hand reached for the wall and I eased against it, bracing my back before my legs gave out. I should just turn around. I should go find Damien and tell him she was in his house. How did she get in? Did she have a key? Oh God.
“Bella,” I said softly, shakily. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, here comes Damien,” she said, her eyes focused down the hall. “He’ll explain everything. Won’t you, Damien?” she said smugly.
I turned to see him striding toward us. He was glaring at Bella with such hatred that I cringed and hugged the wall tighter.
“You were to be gone hours ago,” he said sharply, his jaw clenching and his chest heaving.
“I worked.” Bella shrugged, a haughty tone to her voice though her lip quivered slightly. She stared at him in defiance.
“That was not our agreement, Bella, and you know it.” Damien was hanging onto a thin thread of control. I’d never seen him angry, not like this.
“What is she doing here, Damien?”
He sighed wearily and turned to look at me. His eyes softened at once and then turned wary and conflicted. I could see he was struggling with something, and I was frightened whatever it was would tear me apart.
He ran his hands through his hair, and with a last icy glare at Bella, he reached for my hand. “I want you to know, I didn’t tell you because I was terrified you’d leave me.”
Oh no. Oh no no no. This must be bad. Please, please don’t tell me something I can’t recover from.
“Oh for God’s sake, Damien.” Bella’s disgusted voice cut through my despair, and I knew I shouldn’t look at her, but I did it anyway. “We’re married. Damien and I are married.”
“Goddamn it, Bella!” Damien bellowed, and because my brain had shut down, I picked up on how Bella literally shrank away from Damien. I felt afraid for her, even though something told me she didn’t deserve my concern, but at this precise moment it was the only emotion I could recognize.
Damien was moving in front of me, my hand still clasped between both of his. I dragged my gaze away from a cowering and wide-eyed Bella to look at him. He was talking, I could see his lips moving, but strangely I heard nothing. I felt like the world around me was in slow motion as I stared at him, marveling at how I could be this calm.
“Is this true?” I whispered. He stared at me as if trying to see inside me, and then he closed his eyes as his chest heaved. After a moment he opened them, and they were lost and miserable and desolate.
A shudder forced my legs out from under me and I slid down the wall, violently snatching my hand from Damien.
“God, Olivia, let me help you.” Damien’s voice sounded desperate and agonized.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled. I scrabbled about on the floor, awkward in my blue gown and aware of the picture I must have made. All I wanted was to be out of this gown and out of this apartment. Damien stood helplessly to the side. I could actually feel my heart ripping, and the pain was worse than anything I had ever known.
I stood and faced him, feeling my hand curl into a fist, and I knew relief would come if I only struck out. If I flailed my hands and clawed at him, the splintering pain would subside for a precious minute.
“Did you hear me?” Damien was gesticulating with his hands. “You have to believe me, Olivia.”
“I’m leaving.” My voice was measured and level, and I was astounded that I could sound like that when inside I was shattering into bloody pieces. I flexed my legs to make sure they could support me. Wouldn’t want to fall again, how embarrassing would that be? I laughed at the thought, the hollow sound reverberating down the hall.
“I just never saw that coming,” I said mechanically. I pressed a hand to my chest, exhaling harshly as I absorbed the sheer awful hilarity of the last few minutes. What a difference five minutes could make. A cackle escaped my throat. He flinched at my maniacal laughter, and I looked away as a cold grip seized my heart.
One, two, three, four…
Somehow I stifled the urge to scream, to sob, to rip the priceless Harry Winston earrings out of my ears and fling them at him. I stiffly moved past him.
“Where are you going?”
From the sound of his voice he was following me but keeping a safe distance.
I tackled the stairs one by one, holding onto the handrail. Once at the bottom, I turned toward the kitchen, removing first one earring and then the second as I went. As I passed the breakfast bar, I laid them on top and collected my clutch without stopping.
“Olivia?” His voice was hushed and dripping concern.
I must keep moving. I couldn’t be here.
I turned right at the hallway and walked into the foyer. Oh, please let the elevator be right here. Pressing the button, the doors opened almost silently.
“You can’t leave me. Olivia, you don’t have your shoes. Let me get you some shoes, a jacket.”
He started to enter the elevator with me. “Don’t! Don’t you dare,” I said, full of the venom which poisoned me. He stopped as if I had slapped him, reaching out with one hand on a reflex. His eyes were wide, a terrible grimace contorting his face as the finality sank in.
“Go back to your wife, Damien.”
The doors closed. And my heart finally ripped in two.
* * *
It wasn’t Lucy I called, but Justine. She pulled over in her Honda Accord as I huddled in the entryway of a closed bagel shop.
“I don’t even have my keys,” I said once I was inside, my bare feet raw and aching and filthy. My keys, my car, my heart. The idea of that was so ridiculous that I turned to her ready to laugh. My smile faded and a sob wrenched from me.
“Oh, Liv,” she said, pulling me to her. I couldn’t stop the torrent any longer. Horrible, terrible sounds I didn’t recognize as my own filled the car.
“Oh, you stupid, stupid girl,” I wailed. I was nearly prostrate with grief, the wretchedness of my despair filled up every molecule of my being. I sank into myself, unable to support the structure of my own body, and I let my anguish dissolve the last frail thread of my happiness.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a book requires more than just an ov
eractive imagination and a laptop. My gratitude and love go to the following:
My family. You endured my absences, both physical and mental, with patience and grace. Your support and encouragement saw me through the tough days where I struggled to hit my word count. Writers are a strange bunch. We drift from the highest highs to the lowest lows, seldom sticking for very long in the middle. Knowing you were in my corner, even if I never reached “The End,” helped me grab on to that middle ground and hold tight. I love each of you more than I can ever say.
My sister. You’ve been my biggest cheerleader through this entire process. Thank you for your unwavering belief in me, especially during my wigging out phases. Two thousand miles separate us, but I felt your support as if you were right beside me. You can’t imagine how much of a help it was to bounce ideas off you. Our talks got my mind on writing and the creative juices flowing. I feel like this book is partially yours. You rock, Cinders.
Schwan. Without fail, you gave me guidance when my direction wavered. You have an amazing way of expressing your opinion, laying out your true thoughts while avoiding outright criticism. Thank you for finding the solution when I didn’t even know there was a problem, and for doing so without dragging my feelings through the mud. Your intuition, artistry and incredible know-how has been a boon to me for two decades (gasp!). I just hope I can repay you with more than just guilt.
The Nipple Brigade. You didn’t flinch (well, maybe a blink or two) when I asked you to read my little schmexy book and for that I will be forever in your debt. Gabbie, Cindy, Jen and MK, you helped make my words readable. Thank you for being such enthusiastic betas. I’ll try to tone down the nipple talk in Book 2. Maybe.
Jeri Walker. Your expertise, guidance and hatchet skills when it came to adverbs made a tremendous difference. Thank you for taking on this first time author.
Dave Brown. Thank you for answering my questions on police procedure. Any errors pertaining to the law that made their way into this story are my own.
Gabe Sheets. Thank you for applying your mad skills with a camera to my cause. When you become the next big thing, I’ll tell everyone I knew you when.
Guido Henkel. I thought I could format. I was wrong. Thank you for saving my sanity.
And you, dear readers. The business of writing is a funny one. What makes a person labor over a batch of words, at times convinced that of all the words in the universe, these words should never, ever be placed in such proximity with each other? And then let people actually read them? (I’m sure I don’t know.) Thank you for spending your time with these words.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Julie Olsen holds a B.A. in English from the University of Iowa.
She lives in St. Louis. This is her first novel.
You can connect with her online at
Facebook.com/julieolsenwriter
@IAmJulieOlsen
Want to read more about Damien and Olivia? Their love story continues in FULL CONFESSION, Book Two of the No Secrets Series. Subscribe to the email list below to be the first to receive info on new releases and special offers.
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Thank you for purchasing this book. I hope you enjoyed it, and if so, might I ask a favor? Reviews are the lifeblood of any aspiring author. Please log in to Amazon or Goodreads and leave a review. It only takes a few minutes of your time, but I will be eternally grateful.
Table of Contents
TITLE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR