Dangerous Lies(43)

Finally making it up the stairs, I noticed a glow from my bedroom. I probably left the side lamp on, it wasn’t uncommon for me to do.

More than ready to flop onto my bed, I crossed through the threshold, only to be scared stiff in my tracks. There was Martin, sitting on the edge of the bed as if he had been waiting for me to come home from a trip.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he purred, remaining seated on the edge of the bed. “How was New Zealand? Everything you dreamed it would be?”

My tongue got caught in my throat. Every bone in my body was screaming at me to dart down the stairs and run after the cab, or just run as far away as I could, but nothing would move. Even my jaw stayed slacked open in shock.

“So happy to see me that you can’t think of the right words to say?” He sneered, cocking his head. His blue eyes were as cold as ice, nothing compared to the dull blue button up he wore paired with dark jeans. “I’m thrilled to see you.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I croaked, my voice sounding as weak as my terrified muscles. “We agreed-”

He shook his head, his death stare silencing me. “That was when I couldn’t prove you were having an affair.”

My brows furrowed. “I’ve never cheated on you.”

His crooked smile came to attention, although a smile should make you feel warmth, this grin was deadly, sending chills up and down my spine. “No? Then why would you escape to another country with a man you’ve talked to on the internet? I’m not a moron, Corrine. I know all about your late night conversations with Colton ‘Jake’ Stanton.”

My eyes darted to the ground, irritated that Martin knew his name before I did. No doubt he’d been tracking him for some time. Jake said he was good at finding people who wanted to disappear. Well, so was Martin, at least he knew who to hire.

“It was for work,” I muttered. “We collaborated in writing. You’ve always known that.”

He cocked his head to the opposite side, furrowing his brows as if he were thinking. “Is that what you called it? Collaborating? Didn’t know you had to do that in person. Unless, all those extremely inappropriate and graphic stories you sent to him needed to be tested out.”

I clenched my jaw, anger bubbling inside of me. “You’re out of line, and need to get out of my house.”

He arched a brow. “So you don’t deny it?”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t need to confirm or deny. We aren’t married anymore, so that makes it none of your business.”

He slowly stood, rubbing his hands along his shirt to make sure there weren’t any creases. He was calm and posed, not something I’d have expected, but it was also frightening. He always blew up out of nowhere, being completely fine one moment, then a raving lunatic the next.

Both his hands were on his hips when I stepped backward. “You are my business, Cora. You might think because we’re divorced that it means you can go around fucking some random ‘writer’ that you had developed some type of bullshit feelings for while we were married, but I’m here to tell you, I won’t allow it.”

Taking another step toward me, he continued in his calm and collected voice. “I have photos of the two of you, and those photos will get me my house.”

“You’re a liar,” I spat, calling his bluff. He wasn’t going to intimidate me with such outlandish bullshit. I decided to divorce him because I was sick of his bullshit, and if sticking up for myself might get me hurt, it would be worth it. “Even if you had photos of Jake and myself, it wouldn’t mean shit. We’re divorced, this house is mine, and I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave.”

He lifted his chin, eyeing me suspiciously. “Where did my weak bitch of a wife go?”

“I’m tired of your games, Martin. If you don’t walk down the steps and leave, I’m calling the police.”

He tilted his head as if he were contemplating his options. Sick of his lackadaisical attitude and lack of respect for my wishes, I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and hit the power button.

Just as the apple lit up, a stiff hand swiped across my face at a lightning speed, smacking me square across the jaw and knocking me to the ground. I squealed from the burn, grabbing my face as if it would take away the pain.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he grumbled, grabbing a hand full of my hair. It tugged painfully on my head, causing me to screech. “Shut up, you cunt. I’m taking what’s mine.” Yanking me to my feet, I bit my lip to keep from whimpering.

Tossing me to the bed, he pinned me on my back, grabbing hold of both my wrists. I fought against him, squirming under his body and thrusting my arms in attempts for him to let go. He might have been stronger than me, but I was willing to fight him until I didn’t have any strength.

“It’ll only make it worse if you fight me,” he muttered, finagling both my hands together in one of his strong grasps so he could reach for his back pocket. I kicked and fought more, knowing he was weakened and trying to do multiple tasks.

He pulled out a roll of duct tape, biting the edge and ripping a piece off, then maneuvering it around my squirming hands. It stuck to my sweaty hands, the ripping of the duct tape roared in my ears as he continued to wrap it around

“What is your problem?!” I shouted, kicking my legs more forcefully while he sat on my pelvis. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”