“Of course it was important! It’s about me.”
He merely looks at me.
“I’ve been cooperative. You can’t say that I made it hard for you to keep me safe. So there was no reason for you to keep things from me. I would’ve quit contacting Courtney if that’s what you wanted!”
Something flickers in his gaze. I realize he isn’t going to tell me why he’s being so secretive when there’s no reason to behave in such a manner. He can be high-handed, but this is beyond that. When he asks me to do something, I might push if I’m uncertain. But when he explains the rationale, I generally agree he’s right and go with his plan. Like when he asked me to move in. Or get the internship at the foundation. Or told me I needed new clothes, and so on.
There’s no reason for
him to hide things, and I’ve proven myself reasonable enough that he should’ve told me. I deserve that much respect. Unless…
All my senses are prickling. Something’s up. This isn’t about a lack of respect. He’s being too secretive.
“Roy Wilks is a cancer, and I’m going to excise it,” he says finally. “Trust me.”
“Hard to trust somebody who won’t tell me the whole story. What else have you done?”
“I hacked your phone. Intercepted the birthday present from your stepbrother.”
My hands shake. So Roy didn’t forget. And all this time, I was celebrating that he did. “Don’t you know keeping things like that from me gives me a false sense of safety? Which then puts me in greater danger?”
“Don’t tell me you were looking forward to his gift. It wasn’t anything pretty. And if you’re worried about thanking him properly, I already took care of that.” His smile is entirely too self-satisfied.
It doesn’t do a thing to lessen my anxiety or fury. “What did you do?”
“Sent him a box with a limp rubber dick inside. Seemed fitting.” He takes a step forward, his expression inscrutable.
I retreat an equal distance.
His eyes narrow, but I don’t move. He’s the one who destroyed my trust. Played me for a fool. Hacking into my phone. Pretending to be me to contact Courtney, knowing she’s been talking to Roy. Intercepting packages from Roy and sending things to him in my name.
Then… He said Roy has survived because he lives too far away. Which means: too far away from Tolyan.
“You know exactly where Roy is, and you want to lure him out,” I say, my lips rubbery.
“That’s right.”
Everything that’s happened since Tolyan and I met starts to make sense, like a jigsaw puzzle coming together. Ugly emotions pierce my heart like hot daggers, then cut straight down until the pain pools in my gut. “So I’m…what? Bait? Roy said he’s going to come for me when I’m at my happiest. So that’s why you were so nice to me. You have to make sure I look happy to everyone in case Roy is having me watched.”
Tolyan doesn’t bother to deny it.
“Did you have that flasher show up at the jogging trail, too?” I demand. My hands curl into tight fists, and my nails dig into my palms.
“No. He had nothing to do with me.”
It doesn’t make me feel better. I can’t decide if I want to scream or sob. How stupid was I to be grateful and happy? I thought I was in love. I thought he cared. Thank God I never told him I loved him. That would’ve been the cherry on this cake of humiliation.
My sleep-deprived head throbs with the tsunami of awful revelations. But my heart is bleeding. I want to cling to the only thing I have left—my pride—and walk out. But that’s the stupidest thing I could do. I didn’t suffer all this time, be made into a fool for weeks, just to walk out into the city and get killed by Roy or his henchmen.
“Do you have anything to say?” I ask, half desperate. I don’t know exactly what I want him to say, but I need to hear him say something.
“What do you want me to say?” he asks as though he’s willing to tell me what I need to hear to calm down.
I realize I want him to explain himself. Or apologize, at least. I want to know that even if he started out with the intent to use me, his feelings have changed…
I want to know he cares about me.
But he just stands there looking at me. I realize he isn’t going to explain or apologize or tell me he cares.