Provoke

Chapter Fifteen

Leeta

Climbing onto the double bed, I sighed, not sure what I was feeling. Did his explanations make it better? Did it excuse what he’d done?

No, but knowing he wasn’t a rapist brought me relief.

I felt sorry for him. He blamed himself for Anna’s suicide; I could see that. He would do absolutely anything to avenge what had happened to her.

And there lay the problem.

He’d cheated on me. Whatever his reasons were, he had cheated on me.

He had fucked other women. My wonderful, beautiful Mace—the guy I thought could do no wrong by me—had betrayed me in the worst possible way. How could he claim to love me and turn around and do that? If you love someone, you don’t do that.

Blinking back tears, I dragged the covers up over my shoulders

Fuck you, Mace. Fuck you for doing this to me.

#

I woke up, disoriented. Where the hell was I?

Throwing back the covers, I stood up, unsteady on my feet. Slowly, things began filtering back to me: Mace. The videos. Anna. I gripped the sides of my head and squeezed my eyes shut. It was all too much. I couldn’t deal with it at the moment.

I opened the bedroom door and ventured out. Blood pumped through my veins. The thought of seeing him scares me. He wasn’t the guy I’d thought he was. All these secrets . . . it was like Ben all over again.

“Can I get you something?”

I jumped as Mace appeared in front of me. “No. Thanks.” I forced a smiled and walked over to the couch. Hang on, why did I feel like I had to be nice? I had every right to be annoyed at him.

He followed me over and sat down on the coffee table in front of me, placing his hands on my knees. I tensed and pushed them away.

“Don’t . . .” I began, my voice trailing off. “Just don’t.”

“Leet, please—”

“Please what? For fuck’s sake, give me some damn space! Let me process what you’ve told me. I think I deserve that—don’t you?” My voice was cold. His eyes clouded with frustration as he stood up and cursed.

He turned around and slapped his keys down on the table. I stared up at him. I could feel the blood drain from my face. What was he doing?

“Just go. Fucking leave, Leeta. Call the cops, whatever. I don’t give a shit. If you aren’t able to forgive me . . .” He shook his head violently. “Then I don’t want you here.” He stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving me sitting there, stunned.

He’s angry with me?

What the fuck?

Crouching down, I picked up the keys and held them tightly in my hand. How could he expect me to forgive him in the space of a few fucking hours? He was insane.

My head screamed at me to get out of there, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat. I sat there and I waited, because I needed answers.

And if I left then, I’d never get them.