I did what I had to do, I think although the justification sounds hollow in the back of my mind.

The keys jingle as I toss them onto the table, scooting it back into place and then I snatch up the crumpled piece of thick cream parchment.

The note that destroyed what I had.

I clear my throat, willing the images and memories to go away as my chest tightens with unbearable pain. I had her. I had my sweetheart and she loved me, I know she did.

The letter crinkles as I focus my eyes on it and turn my back to the staircase, resting my shoulder against the doorframe of the dining room and listening to the crackling of the fire.

It’s handwritten and leans more toward feminine penmanship. My eyes narrow as I look over every inch of the paper attempting to recognize the curve of a letter, something, anything. Not a damn memory comes to mind. There’s no name. No way to identify who it came from.

Dear Julia,

It pains me to tell you this, but I can’t stand to watch from a distance as you fall into a trap. Your husband was murdered. I know this is going to shock you, but I have proof. You may not believe me, but I pray that you do.

Mason Thatcher murdered him. Don’t trust him. Don’t let him know that you know. If he finds out, you won’t be safe.

All I can tell you is that you need to run. Stay far away.

I can’t say any more. I hope this letter finds you safe and you take every word for what it is, the truth.

Truly yours,

X

Proof. My narrowed gaze focuses on the single word, my heart racing faster and faster. There’s not a single possibility that someone has proof.

There were no cameras around. There’s no fucking way anyone saw. Her prick of a husband was leaving his apartment after screwing his mistress, and on his way back home. Back to Jules, his wife he didn’t deserve. My chest rumbles with a low murmur of anger at the memory. His arrogance was one of the things I hated most about him.

My eyes whip to the stairs as I hear Jules call out again. Her voice is cracked and so uneven I can’t make out a damn word she’s saying. I grit my teeth and resist the urge to burn the note. I need it and the envelope it came in.

This is a fucking mess. But I make a solemn promise to Jules: I’ll fix this.

Gripping the banister, I wait a moment for her cries to cease and then slowly ascend the staircase. A tic in my jaw starts to twitch as I formulate a plan. I need to explain why I did it and calm her down. I need time or a fucking miracle. It’s too late to deny any of it. I was too rash, too caught up in the moment when she confronted me. All I could see was red.

The door opens with a gentle push. I didn’t bother to lock it since she’s tied to the bed.

My eyes latch onto her the second I step into our bedroom. She’s barely clothed, her gorgeous pale skin on full display, although most of it is flushed from her struggling and screaming.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” I ask her calmly, completely ignoring the current situation.

Her eyes narrow as she sucks in a breath, and I can feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. I nearly let out a sigh of relief. Anger I can deal with. The thought almost makes me smile.

“Let me out,” she says although her eyes flicker down and her voice wavers with the demand.

“I can’t do that if you’re going to run.”

“Just let me go, Mason,” she pleads with a soft whimper. She licks her lips and attempts to push herself upright. Jules winces from the binds cutting into her wrists, and I can’t fucking stand it.

My hands ball into fists, but I stay put. I can’t risk her trying to escape.

“You need to stay here, with me, until we figure this out,” I say to her in a placating tone as I step forward, rounding the bed to get closer to her. Her breathing quickens and I’m not sure if it’s due to anger or fear from me getting closer to her. My blood runs cold at the second possibility.

“We need to talk about this,” I tell her gently as I sit down carefully and attempt to ease whatever worry I can. I don’t want to tell her anything, and everything in me is screaming to lie and let it all be forgotten. But she’s mine, and I won’t do that to her. It was one thing to withhold the truth about the past, but it’s another to outright lie about it.

She should know the truth, even if she doesn’t like it.

“Ask me anything.” My gaze is struck by hers as I speak. Her baby blues are rimmed in red, and her cheeks tearstained. She’s gorgeous even like this, but not when she misbehaves. She presses her lips into a thin line, even though the bottom one trembles, and shakes her head. It seems fear is the dominant emotion. A vise tightens over my chest.

I look past her as the thick gray velvet curtain sways slightly when the heater turns on with a click. I watch it for a moment, steadying my breath and quickly come up with a solution.

“For every question,” I start to say and then pause to look back at her. She’s wary and when she realizes I’m offering her something, her entire body noticeably stiffens. “Every question you ask, I’ll answer you honestly and untie you a bit.”

It’s not the best solution, seeing as how there are only four knots total keeping the rope in place. One on each wrist, and two tying her to the bed.

“You can’t fight me, Jules.” I harden my voice just before she can answer. “I’ll let you go, but I won’t let you run. Do you understand?”

She swallows and then licks her lips. “Yes,” she says, the answer just above a murmur. I can tell it hurts her to speak at all, because she withdraws the moment the word slips into the tense air between us, a look of pain evident on her face.

She needs tea and to be held. She needs a gentle hand.

The bed groans as I sit, resting my hand on her bare thigh. Like a good girl she doesn’t move, but she does close her eyes as if she can’t stand my touch. I gently rub my thumb in soothing circles and I stare down at where our skin meets as I wait for her.

She’ll forgive me, I know she will. It’s only a matter of time and I’ll let her lead. But only if she moves in the right direction. Closer to the two of us regaining what we had only hours ago. I just need time and given the fact my development company is now dissolved, I have plenty of it.

“Why did you do it?” she asks.

My head lifts at her question, and I meet her gaze head-on. There’s nothing but sadness in those gorgeous doe eyes. “He was responsible for a woman’s death.”

Before I’ve even finished saying the words, she’s already shaking her head. Already in denial. “No, I don’t believe you.” Her voice cracks, a telltale sign of her refusal to accept the truth as she rips her gaze from me and stares straight ahead at the door.

“I’m not lying to you, Jules.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice tender, thinking back on what came over me when I decided Jace Anderson deserved to die.

“You lied,” she practically hisses at me, taking me by surprise. She screams with outrage, “You’re a liar!”

“I never lied to you,” I answer evenly, correcting her and ignoring her outburst while I tighten my grip on the edge of the bed. I have to wait a moment for her to calm down before reaching up and slowly untying the knot on her left wrist. A deal is a deal. Even if I fucking hate her response. Her tender skin is bright pink, and it makes my chest feel tight with guilt. I never wanted to hurt her. Never. I retake my seat as she whispers, “You didn’t tell the truth.”