Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(18)

Nash was wrong. Caleb and I did love each other. He’d proved it. Now I had to do the same.

I didn’t have the time nor the money to get Caleb a ring. The money I earned from the childcare center barely covered the payments on the car I couldn’t afford but had bought to keep up appearances. The rest of it disappeared into trying to keep myself attractive enough that Caleb would continue to want me. Regular hair coloring and cuts. Manicures. Pedicures. Laser hair removal and skin treatments. He seemed to be willing to overlook the fact I wasn’t skinny. It wasn’t like I didn’t try. I’d spent thousands on diets and gyms and personal trainers. None of it had ever worked because I could never curb my eating.

Years of expensive therapy had explained why. All my formative years, I’d had to fight for food. My brain was hardwired to eat as much and as fast as possible. Being hungry triggered all those bad memories, so I’d spent years trying to ensure I never was, just to avoid going back there in my head.

Caleb had wanted me anyway, even when every other man looked past me, in favor of women like Sandra, who lived on lemon water and lettuce and had the physique to prove it.

My love language was food. Although I didn’t have much to offer Caleb, I could give him that.

With the ring tight on my finger, I headed for the kitchen, collecting the fallen bunch of flowers from the floor. I located a heavy glass vase in one of the cupboards, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers as artfully as I could before setting them to one side on the countertop.

The refrigerator was well stocked, as always. I surveyed the contents, looking over the clean shelves full of fresh fruits and vegetables, expensive cuts of meat from a specialty butcher, and a wide selection of cheeses, yogurt, and a bar of chocolate.

Deciding on steak, because it was Caleb’s favorite, I got busy. I rolled up the sleeves of my blouse, catching sight once more of the massive ring now attached to my finger. My heart thumped harder. I was determined to make all of this up to Caleb. I chopped and prepared an array of vegetables, setting them on to sauté, then got busy whipping up a red wine sauce. The steaks panfried while I carefully watched a timer to ensure they would be perfectly medium rare, just how Caleb liked it. I’d always preferred mine well done but had started eating mine the same way Caleb did, because he’d claimed well-done steak was classless.

The sauce bubbled on the stove, and I rescued it before it could burn, while darting looks toward the front of the house every time a set of headlights flashed by. None of them stopped in the driveway though, much to my chagrin.

When the meal was ready and there was no sign of Caleb, I sent him off a quick text message.

Bethany-Melissa: I’m sorry. Please come home. I’ve made dinner.

I put my phone back in my purse and cast a critical eye over the meal I’d made.

It wasn’t enough.

Not when he’d gone to all this trouble to propose, and I’d ruined it all.

I bit my lip, then ran upstairs, rifling through the drawer Caleb had cleaned out for me when I’d started sleeping over.

At the back was a set of lacy red lingerie I’d bought a month ago and hadn’t yet had the guts to wear. Tonight I would. Tonight, I would be his present.

I stripped my clothes, trying not to notice the stretch marks on my breasts and tummy. Or the cellulite on my thighs. I pulled on the one-piece, gasping at the rub of silky lace between my thighs and over my nipples. I added the matching robe, tying the belt at my waist but letting it show off my boobs. They were full and round, and I knew Caleb liked them.

I didn’t dare look in the full-length mirror though, sure I would chicken out if I did. Instead, I went back downstairs to wait.

And wait some more.

The food went cold. The champagne turned warm. My calls to Caleb’s cell went unanswered.

Eventually, when it became clear he wouldn’t be returning, I cleaned up the kitchen, feeling foolish for doing such a task in two-hundred-dollar underwear. I popped the cork on the champagne and drank while I cleaned, because what sadder, more pathetic end to the day was there than getting drunk alone?

At midnight, I slipped beneath the sheets on Caleb’s bed and let sleep take me.

I woke with fingers around my throat.

The rush of terror and adrenaline was so strong it would have knocked me over if I hadn’t already been lying down. I tried to scream, clutching the wrists of the black figure hovering over me. On instinct, I kicked and thrashed, fighting to get air into my lungs, but the man only squeezed harder.

Frantically, I reached an arm out for Caleb, but the bed beside me was empty and cold. My voice wouldn’t work. Even with my mouth open, no sound came out.

I stared up at the man, his face and hair completely concealed by a black mask and hoodie. His arms shook with the force of his grip, and his anger seeped from every movement. He picked me up by the neck and slammed my head down hard into the mattress.

“Shut up and listen, you stupid bitch. We had a deal, and that doesn’t end just because Axel is dead. His debt is now yours, and there’s another six months on his contract.”

His fingers eased up the tiniest of fractions, and I sucked in a stinging breath that seared my lungs. I couldn’t even speak; I was too busy trying to gulp down air. My eyes burned, but the man showed no remorse. Terror clawed through my body, but I no longer tried to move. It was pointless. If this man wanted to hurt me, then he would. Caleb’s house was huge. The neighbors wouldn’t hear me scream, and I had to assume Caleb wasn’t home if this stranger had made it all the way up to the bedroom.