Page 16

CHAPTER 16

Birdie

My question is merely a deflection so I won’t have to answer his. I expect him to give me one of his clever explanations or lash out about not trusting him, but this, the silence, rigid and intense, sends me spiraling.

His unfazed gaze knocks the air out of my lungs. Am I looking at the monster that has been terrorizing me all this time? In this game of cat and mouse, have I ended up the prey?

My heart echoes over the silence. This can’t be my plot twist. I’ll be damned if it is, if Tristan Morra turns out to have anything to do with Butterfly Man, if I haven’t seen it coming before I let him in my house, before I made him my protector, before I sit in my bedroom in front him, isolated and unarmed, while he holds a gun in his hand.

Staring at Blake’s weapon in Tristan’s hand, I reprimand myself for not thinking this through. I should have chosen a better timing for blowing the cover of the man posing as my bodyguard.

Tristan drops his stare to the gun for a heartbeat before he returns to regard me. My fingers twist the sheets, looking for something, anything I can use as a weapon. “You should give me Blake’s gun. It’s evidence that can help with the divorce.”

“ Bueno. Si es necesario que cada uno de nosotros dé un paso atrás para que podamos avanzar juntos, hagámoslo así. ”

“What? I’m sorry I don’t speak Spanish.”

He strides toward me, and I jump. Stumbling on my feet backwards, I hit a wall. In a flash, he’s in front of me, his palms caging me in. He doesn’t lay a hand on me, but I feel invisible chains holding me immobile, defenseless while he’s in utter control. If he wants to do anything to me, I won’t be able to stop him. My eyes dart sideways at his palm on the wall, at the gun that is now an inch away from my face. “Tristan, what are you doing?”

His gaze travels down my body and then back up my face. He halts at my trembling lips and inclines his head. My chest heaves with fear and…twisted desire. It’s my brain turning danger into something enticing to make it more tolerable. That and the fact that Tristan Morra’s lips blur the lines of logic and sanity.

His breath fans my skin, the scent intoxicating. “Do you like to be afraid, Birdie?”

“No,” I whisper.

“I don’t like to see you afraid either.”

“Then why are you scaring me?”

He smirks. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m only giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

“What are you talking about? Why don’t you just put the gun down and answer the question?”

“Which one? How did I know when the cameras were planted?” His smirk stretches into a full grin, a predator about to lock his jaws around his catch. “Or am I your Butterfly Man?”

A harsh tremor vibrates through my body. “Are you?”

“What if I am? You shouldn’t be scared of me. I won’t kill or hurt you. I’m obsessed with you. I’m doing all this to have you, aren’t I?”

A chaotic storm of emotions engulfs me. My thoughts, a tangled mess, contradict each other. My heart catches between the hammering beats of betrayal and the flutters of relief, terrified yet inexplicably drawn to the man who embodies both danger and safety. If Tristan is Butterfly Man, he is a twisted answer to my prayers. A dark angel sent to take away the pain caused by those who really hurt me. I shouldn’t be afraid of him. I’ll be safe in his arms.

For now.

“God, you really think I’m your stalker.” He chuckles, shaking his head, as he takes the magazine out of the gun. “From the second I set foot in your house, I’ve done nothing but show you how much you can trust me, how far I’m willing to go to protect you, but you…”

He takes a couple of steps backward, his invisible grip on me lifting, releasing me out of a cage that looks like I’ve sketched for myself. “You want to know how I figured out when he installed the cameras? I knew that from you.”

“I only deduced there were hidden cameras. I never assumed the timing of their installation.”

“It was only when you saw the note about Saldana that you realized there were hidden cameras. That means whatever she did to provoke that reaction from the stalker happened before he broke in last night, and you knew the only way he could have known about it was either by hacking into your phone or watching it happen in your office through those cameras. Your phone is clean, which means it's the latter.”

Shame constricts my throat as I revise last night’s events and realize he’s right. His mimicry of Butterfly Man, though brief, has shaken me to the core. Blinded by doubt, I’ve assumed the worst of the man I should trust the most.

“Add this to what your husband said, and your reaction when I asked you yesterday if you want me to call the police, do you know what else I can tell for sure?”

“I said no police because they always dismiss me,” I lie.

“Don’t insult my intelligence as you continually do with my loyalty. I know fear when I see it, Birdie. You were afraid of calling them, of what they may find if they investigate. This whole charade you’ve just put together, doubting me, pretending you’re terrified I might be your stalker, is nothing but a way to distract me, to evade telling me what you’re really hiding.”

“I wasn’t pretending. You were very convincing.” I collect myself and move off the wall, away from the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Sorry. If it is necessary for each of us to take a step back so that we can move forward, so be it.”

I take a deep breath, letting that sink in for a minute. “That’s what you said in Spanish earlier, isn’t it?”

“Like I said, I was only giving you a taste of your own medicine. I’m tired of the way you keep distrusting me.”

My eyes travel back to his sheepishly. “I’m sorry, too, Tristan. I keep offending you. How can I make it up to you?”

“Your trust is all I need. No more secrets. I signed your contracts blindly. I’ve just told you there’s nothing you can say or do that’s going to change how much I respect you. You can’t hide things from me no matter how dark they are. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what I’m protecting you from.”

“You’re so convinced I did something questionable to Saldana. What if I told you I committed a crime? Our conversations aren’t privileged. You’re obligated to report me. How can you protect me then?”

He closes the distance between us, his face no longer angry. “I’m gonna say it again and again, until you believe it, do you think a man who is prepared to take a bullet for you will hesitate to lie to keep you safe?”

The sincerity in his words penetrates the darkness betrayal has long wrapped around my ability to trust. I want to believe him so badly. Can I truly trust Tristan Morra? He knows I’ve done something wrong, but he chooses to stay, protecting me with no questions asked. Everything about him invites me to drop my guard and lay myself bare, promising, no matter what, I’ll be safe. There’s nothing that should stop me from trusting him.

Yet here I am, trembling at the threshold, unable to cross once and for all. There’s something about Tristan, a darkness of his own, that stands between me and that leap. I hear it in his voice, in his promises. I see it in his eyes. It marks him whole. Or is it all in my head? Am I becoming my worst enemy like Gia warned?

“You would do that for me?” I search his eyes for a definitive answer to put me out of misery.

“In a heartbeat.” He puts the gun and the magazine in my hands. “Now, please tell me, if Saldana winds up dead, will there be anything the police can find that ties you to her murder?”

Yes, but should I tell you about it?

Something flickers in his gaze, and it clicks. All the conversations we’ve had, everything he’s done for me, the lines he’s willing to cross. Suddenly, all the pieces fall in place. That darkness isn’t malicious. It’s a vulnerability.

A yearning for a second chance to save whom he once couldn’t.

Who is it? A friend? A lover? A family member? I’ve asked him before, but he evaded my question like I’m evading his. One day, he’ll tell me about her and his scar, when I show him I’m worthy of his trust. Is he worthy of mine?

My doubts teeter at the edge, and I make my choice.