Lured into Lies by Melanie Martins

Chapter 7

Manhattan, November 7, 2020

Petra Van Gatt

“I’ll be spending all day at the library, so you don’t have to wait for me there,” I instruct Zach as he drops me off on Columbia’s campus. “I’ll text you later to pick me up.”

As I head toward the main building, my heart speeds up in anticipation at seeing Matt again. I’m not sure how we’re gonna manage to ignore everything we went through though. Should I apologize again for leaving his house in the middle of the night right before his birthday? I mean, Ryan already left a message on my behalf. Plus, it’s not like I had much of a choice after what my parents did to me. Yet, Matthew sided with them and happily supported my mom in her guardianship request. Despite Emma’s advice, I can’t bring myself to forgive him for his lack of loyalty.

Stepping into the library, I inhale deeply into its woody scent—it smells like old books, wooden tables, and a mix of female fragrances from vanilla to peppermint. I scan around the tables spread through the room, trying to find him.

Instinctively though, and against my better judgment, my lips twist into a big smile upon seeing Matt. He looks cute with his grey hoody and black Bose headphones around his neck. I can see that he’s engrossed in a book at an empty table right in front of me.

I walk quietly in his direction and, with a playful tone, ask, “The rest of the group didn’t come?” In fact, I’m a bit surprised he didn’t invite them since this is a meet-up for our study.

His eyes drift up to meet mine, and his lips curve up, mirroring mine. “Hey,” Matt says, just above a whisper. He sounds genuinely excited to see me, which makes me feel just the same. Then he puts down his book and stands up from his chair. “Um, they were taking the weekend off.” I feel like it’s a lie, but I suppose he just didn’t bother to call them.

“Alright, then.” As we stand in front of each other, I don’t really know how to greet him. I stare away, wondering if I should just shake his hand, or give him a hug like I used to. “How are you?” I ask, my tone coming off a bit awkward.

His eyes remain pinned on me and his face just as bright. Well, he seems way more comfortable than me. “I’m good—studying hard for the exams. And you?”

“Yeah, me too,” I find myself saying for lack of a better answer.

“You look great, by the way. The tan suits you.”

I drop my gaze at his compliment, it’s so weird when he says something nice to me like that. I never know how to react, so I just tuck some hair behind my ear, smiling at him. “Oh, thanks.”

“Well, um, I’ve got the study here with me.” Matt is already on his way back to the table to show me the stack of sheets of our study printed out. “So, I think we just need to draft a conclusion, and then we can review everything.” As I look at it, I notice the text is already filled with notes in red.

“You are already revising the study?” I ask him.

“Well, yeah…” He seems a bit uncomfortable as he says so.

And as I read the text he’s been revising, I can’t help but feel my nerves boiling. “You have been editing the whole part I wrote?” My tone comes off way more outraged than I wanted.

“Um, yeah, there were some mistakes, and I wanted to improve it.” What on earth? Last time we worked on the study, he had said my part was great ,and it was good to go.

“Alright,” I snap. “Give me yours.”

“Um, what do you mean?” he asks, confused.

“Give me your part of the study. I’ll start reviewing it now,” I tell him, already taking his red pen and siting down.

“Oh…” There’s a faint of a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls a chair and sits beside me. “You’re mad at me because I edited your lovely defense on Ayn Rand?” I couldn’t care less about Ayn Rand, but knowing him as I do, he edited it because he was the one personally mad at me.

“The text was fine. You told me that yourself the last time we met.” I hear the librarian uttering a ssshhh at me for speaking too loud. So, lowering my voice, I add, “Why did you change it so much?”

Matt shrugs, his lips in a straight line. “Because it wasn’t that fine.”

“So, why did you say it was?” I ask, annoyance thick in my tone.

He seems rather uncomfortable as I keep my eyes on him. “Because I wanted to be nice.” His words hit my ego hard, crashing it in two. But I would be lying if I say my heart didn’t also take a reel. Matt averts eye contact, and his attitude leaves me totally speechless. “I read it again during my birthday,” he finally confesses, a bit shyly. “I was mad at you for running away in the middle of the night. I felt betrayed, okay?” My mouth parts in awe at his revelation, and I blink twice. “So, yeah, I read your text not like a friend, but as someone who needs to get a good grade on the project.” Matt draws out a breath, running a hand through his hair, before pressing his lips together. “You have nothing to say?”

“Um, I’m sorry…” The words are merely audible as I’m still processing everything he just said. Well, that’s exactly what I thought; he revised it while being mad at me. I try not to squirm in my seat. “I, um, I know you were looking forward for me to be present at your birthday.”

“Well, I was present at yours, wasn’t I?”

The question feels like a reality-check, and I know perfectly well that Matt has always been a better friend than I had been to him. “You were, yeah…” I lower my gaze in embarrassment for the way I treated him. I should’ve known he’d still be mad at me for what I did. But somehow, I thought naïvely it was all forgotten. “Can we leave what happened behind us?”

His eyes widen in surprise at my question. “Why would I? You made it clear you don’t care about me.”

“Matt, don’t exaggerate…”

“Let’s just finish the study, alright?”

While Matt is already trying to read and review the rest of the study, I’ve got more to say. “You are supporting my mother. And she is trying to hurt me.”

He looks at me in the eye and ripostes just as fast. “She isn’t trying to hurt you, she’s trying to prevent you from ruining your life.”

“It’s my life,” I tell him. “I do what I want with it.”

“Fine,” he hisses. “Now, can we finish to review the study? I promise afterward you won’t have to see me ever again.”

“Don’t say that,” I find myself asking him.

“Why not? After all, you see me like your enemy, no?” I’ve never heard Matt speaking with so much annoyance in his tone. As we look at each other, I can see how hurt he is at the poor state of our relationship. And, just like me, I know he doesn’t have many friends to turn to. We used to get along so well, working at the library non-stop, talking about all sorts of subjects, but now… Now, I’ve got no idea what we‘ve become. I won’t go as far as calling him an enemy though, maybe just someone who has sided with the wrong people.

“You’re not my enemy. I don’t see you like that.”

“So, how do you see me, then?” His tone is just above a whisper, laced with genuine curiosity and for once, I can’t find any aggressiveness in it.

His question tightens my heart, so I look introspectively, trying to find the truth. “As someone who wants the best for me, despite being very naïve about my mom.”

I see a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and I do exactly the same. I relax myself a bit, as I can tell we’re easing into things a bit more. “At least we agree on the first part.”

With a smile hanging on my lips, I add, “Maybe one day we will agree on the latter, too.”

* * *

Putting aside our disagreements, we have been working for the past three hours to finish the study and, I must say, Matt and I managed to do a pretty good job. When we don’t talk about my mom or my relationship with Alex, we get along just fine. As I discreetly look at him, focused on his laptop and finishing to type in the conclusion of our study, I can’t help but say in a whisper, “It feels good to talk to you again.”

All of a sudden, though, he stops typing, his face lighting up with a smile. “I feel the same.” The warmth in his voice unexpectedly makes my face grow red, and his lips form a slow sexy twist while his eyes sparkle when they meet mine again. We know it’s getting awkward, so we both cut eye contact right away. “So,” Matt says, breaking our uncomfortable silence. “Is there anything else you want me to include in the study, or are we good?”

“I think we did a pretty good job,” I tell him.

“I agree, especially when we pointed out the flaws of objectivism.” I’m pretty sure he’s just saying that to piss me off. “That’s the part Prof. Reich will love the most.”

“You mean the part you wrote entirely on your own?” I ask, teasing.

“Of course,” he answers with a smirk, before leaning back on his chair to stretch himself.

“Thanks for being here.” The compliment comes out of my mouth almost instinctively, but it also comes from the bottom of my heart. And while I’m not the best at opening up, I hope he knows that, despite our differences, his friendship means a lot to me.

Matt leans forward, and a bit unexpectedly, strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. Heat surges through me from his gentle touch, and I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to make out of it. With a contemplative look on his face, he says, “You mean a lot to me, you know that, right?” It feels like he has just read my mind. My lips part at his question, but I can’t bring myself to answer it, so instead, I just nod. He then leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, which makes me smile at how innocent the gesture is. It’s as chaste as a brother giving a kiss to his sister. As I come to think of it, maybe that’s how he finally sees me: like a sister, which would be great, given the fact he used to have a crush on me.

All of a sudden, though, I hear a female voice behind me saying my name. “Um, Petra is it?” I turn to look at her and find the librarian, holding a white paper in her hands. “There’s someone waiting for you outside, and he asked me to give you this.” She hands me the note, and as I open it, my jaw drops in utter shock as I see who wrote it.

I know you are getting married to my ex.

There are a few things you should know about him.

If you fancy to talk, Paul will take you to my office.

All the best,

The Witch

My heart skips a beat at her message. Oh my gosh! Amanda! I can’t believe she is here in New York. It was obvious that her mom, Mona, would tell her the news. I feel tempted to disregard the letter and throw it away, but I can’t help wondering how she found me and what could she possibly want to talk about. Is she gonna tell me more about Alex’s past? Does she know something I don’t? Well, she was with him for ten years, it’s obvious she knows more about him than me. If that’s the case, then I have to accept the invitation.

“I’m sorry, Matt. Um, I’ve got to go.” I stand up, grab my books, and shove them hurriedly inside my backpack, my anxiety already consuming me.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, looking at my sudden switch of mood.

“Yes, um, I have to meet with someone.” I shoulder my backpack and lean down to press my lips to his cheek. “Thanks for everything. See you later.”

As I leave the library, I find a man dressed like a private chauffeur standing against the wall and waiting for someone. Yet I’m not sure if it’s who I need to be meeting.

“Ms. Van Gatt?” he asks as I’m about to pass by him.

I stop upon hearing my name and walk back to him. “Yes?”

“I’m Paul, Ms. Parker’s private chauffeur. May I take you to her office?” the driver asks.

“And where is her office?”

“It’s in Madison Square, about a ten-minute ride,” he explains.

“How did you find me?” I ask, keeping my expression and tone just as serious.

“It’s part of my job to know.” He pauses, gauging for my reaction, before politely smiling at me. “Shall we?” It’s pretty obvious he isn’t gonna tell me the truth. There aren’t a thousand ways for him to know I was at the library, though—either he followed me or he asked Zach.

“Alright.” We walk across the campus and head to his car, my heart thundering inside my chest while I try my best to conceal my growing nervousness. All I hope for is that he doesn’t kidnap me or something. I mean, Amanda clearly said she wanted to talk to me. Yet, I share my live location with Matt just in case. “I’m going to Madison Square to meet someone. I'll text you back once I’m done.”

A few seconds later, his reply pops up: Alright, be careful. X.

After twenty minutes, Paul stops at the curb and opens the door for me. He then escorts me inside the building and into the elevator that will take us to Amanda’s floor. As we step off the elevator, my eyes reach an open floor filled with cubicle offices, mostly empty since it’s Saturday, and a reception right in front of us with the words “Parker & Co., PR Agency,” glued on the wall. Wow. I had no idea Amanda had her own agency and worked as a PR agent. The chauffeur informs the receptionist about me, and she picks the desk phone up, most likely to let Amanda know I’m here.

Then she leaves her desk and gestures for me to follow her. I take a deep breath, trying to tame my nerves before doing so. Crossing the open floor, I can feel my heart hammering against my chest in apprehension for the upcoming face-to-face. My fingers have begun to mimic the pulse of my heart in their shaking, but I try to contain myself before facing Amanda. The receptionist stops right in front of a closed door and knocks a few times before we hear an approval from the other side. As she cracks the door open and invites me in, I swallow the lump in my throat and glance over at the woman who’s wearing a big, bright smile, her perfect white teeth on full display, standing behind her clean-lined glass desk.

“Petra Van Gatt,” Amanda greets as I walk into her ultra-modern office. The sound of the door shutting behind me keeps me just as tense, and before I can even say her name in return, she adds, “Well, look at you, what a grown up you are now.” I sense some sort of sarcasm, especially as she checks me out from top to bottom, making me feel quite self-conscious of our contrasting appearances—Amanda has got her makeup and wavy black hair on point, sports a Gucci white suit, and looks like a supermodel turned executive, while I’m here with a messy bun, a pair of old jeans, a comfy white sweater, and a backpack hanging on the shoulder. There is a smirk playing on her lips, and I’m pretty sure it’s due to my style. “Interesting look,” she comments, her eyes traveling all the way down to my feet. “I remember how Alex used to hate women wearing jeans and All Stars.” I can see her posture straightening more as her confidence grows.

Really? I can’t hide the astonishment on my face at her revelation. After all, Alex never made any remarks about my outfits. “Well, I guess that belongs to the past…” Just like you. But I refrain from saying the last part. “Why did you invite me here?”

“Please have a seat,” she says instead of giving me a straight answer. I pull back one of the chairs in front of her desk, while she goes to her bar tray resting on one of her lateral file cabinet against the wall. And as I look at her, I notice that just above her head, there’s a framed diploma from Columbia University. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got water, Macallan, gin…”

Even though I feel like drinking some water, I don’t think it’s appropriate to accept anything coming from her. She is not here to be kind or nice, no. My instinct tells me she’s got something in mind that I should be very careful of. “No, thank you,” I answer politely.

Amanda pours some Macallan in a glass before sitting on the chair beside mine. I wonder if she truly enjoys the whiskey or if she does so because it reminds her of him. Some silence ensues as she crosses one leg over the other, observing me attentively. “That’s a beautiful ring.” My attention instantly goes to my finger, and a small smile emerges at the sight of it. But I remind myself I’m not talking to a friend but to Amanda—his ex, the woman I called a witch when I was seven, and above all, the woman who wanted to get married to him.

“Thanks,” I say, waiting for her to answer my question once and for all.

Amanda gives a sip on her glass, keeping her posture just as straight and confident, while I start quietly glancing around her office, my patience vanishing almost instantly. “I’m not the enemy, Petra.” My attention goes back to her face, and I frown, a bit perplexed by her statement. “So you don’t need to be on your guard with me.” Wow. That’s not what I expected to hear from her. “Since you’re the fiancée of the man I was with for ten years, I just wanted to tell you…” She takes a deep breath before leaning forward and muttering, “You should run before it’s too late.”

My jaw drops at her warning, and I blink twice, barely believing what she told me. “Excuse me?”

“I know Alex is a very charming man. But he’s also very manipulative and a professional liar. Believe me, you don’t know him.”

I do a mental effort not to roll my eyes. After all, from my mom to Margaret, everyone has told me the same. “I’m sorry if he was like that with you, but with me he is different.”

To my surprise, Amanda chuckles at my reply, shaking her head while looking at me with some pity in her gaze. “You are so young…” She pauses, letting her words sink into me. “I spent ten years with him, Petra. And even me, after everything we went through, I didn’t know him.”

My jaw flexes, and I’m not sure what to tell her in return. Fortunately, Amanda stands up and goes to her desk where she opens a drawer and picks something from there. Then, she returns and hands me a few photographs printed in full resolution.

Oh my gosh! As I look at the first one, I can’t prevent the gasp that rolls off my mouth. The photo features Amanda lying naked on the bed, focusing on her back that is totally covered with scars and bleeding cuts from a session of flogging. This is so disturbing to look at that I have to turn my face away.

“Don’t look away,” she snaps. “Look at what he did to me.”

I don’t want to, but since she keeps insisting, I glance once more at the photo, before looking at the next one, which is just another angle with more visible cuts on her lower back and butt. “Those scars…” I swallow at the word, being too disgusted to even talk about them. “Are they gonna stay on your skin forever?” I look her in the eye, my heart racing as I wait for an answer.

“Yes.”

I inhale deeply before exhaling from my nose, trying to relax as much as possible, but this is so disturbing that my stomach quivers, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

“I know it looks barbaric to you, which is why I’m telling you…” she lets her words trail off, gauging my expression, “you don’t know him.”

“Alex already told me he used to flog women in the past.” I put the stack of photos on her desk and try to chase these violent imageries from my head. “But he has never done it to me, and he will never do it.”

“I know he won’t.” There’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips, like she is genuinely glad he won’t do the same to me as he did to her. “You need so much more than a simple relationship to get to this level of trust, commitment, and intimacy.”

Interesting that she left the word submission aside, because to me, those pictures portrayed only one thing: total submission to him and a will to please him to a point I can’t even comprehend. It was one thing to play with sex toys or get a spanking, but getting marked for life? Hell, no! No matter how much I love him, this will always be beyond my boundaries.

“Getting flogged has nothing to do with trust or intimacy,” I snap back in defense. “It’s a sadist practice I have no interest in.”

“Of course it does,” Amanda ripostes. “Alex wanted me to have those scars for life as a reminder of him—of the Alex only I know.” She pauses for a beat, nostalgia laced in her gaze. “This is something only I have from him.” Her eyes alight on the photographs, and she looks at them with affection. “This is a gift that bonds us forever.”

I want to puke at her answer. I don’t think I have ever heard something so depraved in my entire life. He wanted to mark her for life, and she is proud of that? How can she be so blind, so stupid? And him? How can he be so cruel? A flux of mixed emotions runs through me, and tears start resting on my eyelids, but I push them back, not wanting to show any weakness in front of her. I feel disgusted. I feel angry at him for being such a despicable human and for manipulating her like that. And I feel something else I shouldn’t… envy. Why did he want to mark her for life in the first place? Why? Was it really a form of love as she said? Or was it just a sadist and selfish act devoid of any meaning? Despite my curiosity though, I will never ask her. After all, Alex is the only one who knows the truth.

“It’s not love, Amanda,” I tell her. “I might be young, but no man needs to mark a woman to show his love and commitment to her. How did you even accept it in the first place?” In fact, I’m shocked how such a beautiful and intelligent woman like her let a man do that to her.

“You don’t understand. Do you?”

“No, I don’t,” I admit without any shame. “I don’t understand at all.”

“This is who he is,” she says. “And I accepted him entirely.”

A loud chuckle escapes me at her words. “I’m sorry that you believed you were forever. I know you must feel terrible for what he did.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she snaps, glaring at me with a menacing look. “You are not me.” Her voice is so cold that I shiver. “I spent ten years with him. How long have you been with him?”

Tired of so many unpleasant questions, I raise up from my seat, ready to leave. “I don’t owe you a reply.” But Amanda grabs my shoulder, and in a fraction of a second, pushes me back on my seat. Everything happens so fast that I barely have time to process what she does. “I want to leave,” I snap.

“How far would you go for him, Petra?”

One more question I don’t want to answer, but for the sake of finishing this discussion once and for all, I say, “I won’t go as far as getting marked for life, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Would you break up with him if that could save him from jail?”

“What?” I utter immediately, unable to prevent the shock in my tone. That’s a question I didn’t see coming. “What are you talking about?

“You know, with the permanent scars I have on my back, my attorney told me it’s a felony offense. He can get up to ten years in jail for that.”

Holy shit! She is threatening to report him to the police? “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” My heart is pounding so damn hard in my chest at her threats that it takes everything in me to keep my composure.

“Well, either he made those scars because he loved me or because he hated me.” The way she says it makes my heart aches for her. “Given the fact he broke up with me and is now engaged to you, I will bet on the latter.”

And here it is. The reason why she brought me here. Amanda still loves him and truly believes Alex loved her too given the fact he marked her for life. How betrayed she must feel at his lies is beyond anything I can imagine. “Amanda, I…” How can I ask her to forgive the man she spent ten years with, lied to her, and then left her? I can’t, I simply can’t. “I’m sorry…” I’m even ashamed to say those words, because I know they won’t mean anything to her. “But I won’t break up with him.” Despite not wanting to tell her the rest, she has to hear it. “Alex moved on with his life, and you have to do the same now.”

“I can’t,” she hisses, her expression now filled with anger and regret. “I have those marks for life.” She looks away and shuts her eyes tight like she is preventing tears from agony falling. “We weren’t meant to move on. There’s no reason for him to have done that if we were.”

With the view being too intense to watch, I drop my gaze to my lap and ask, “What did he tell you when he left?”

Amanda doesn’t reply immediately, but I hear her breathing slowly in and out as she seems to be considering my question. “That he wasn’t into marriage or kids and that he was actually doing me a favor for breaking up with me.”

It’s exactly what Alex told me when I asked him. And yet, I can’t imagine the pain she must have felt in that moment. After ten years, after receiving those marks… My eyes drift up again, and as I observe the distress laced on her gaze, I realize how bad of an idea it was to have accepted her invitation and meet her. I shouldn’t have come here. Her story makes me hate my fiancé although he didn’t do anything to me. But I feel so much pain for this woman that I understand why she wants to revenge herself and report the man who deceived her and lied to her. I can’t blame her for that.

I get up again, but this time, she doesn’t get physical. And as I stand in front of her, I say, “If you want to go ahead and report him to the police for what he did to you, it’s your decision.” Then I shoulder my backpack, and before leaving her office, I add, “I wish you nothing but the best, Amanda.” And I close the door behind me.

* * *

As I reach the entryway, Maria walks in and reminds me about the dinner with Alex followed by Mike’s party at nine this evening—two things that I had totally forgotten. I glance quickly at my watch and realize I’m twenty minutes late for our dinner that was scheduled for six-thirty. Shit. I drop my backpack, put on my most innocent smile, remove my bun for the sake of looking presentable, and rush into the dining room where I find Alex already sitting and eating his starter.

"Good evening,” I greet with a sweet tone, while wondering if he’s mad at me or not.

His blue eyes quickly travel up to meet mine, but his expression reveals nothing. “Good evening,” he says, before putting down his cutlery and leaning back on his chair. And right after I sit in front him, I hear him asking, “May I know why you didn’t call the driver back after your session in the library? I was extremely worried.”

I press my lips together, pondering from where I should start. “First, I don’t like to have Zach constantly driving me around,” I point out. “I enjoy booking a cab on my own. And second… Amanda wanted to meet me,” I tell him.

“Amanda?” He repeats, his brows raising up in surprise. “You met with Amanda?”

“Yep.”

He frowns in confusion. “Why?”

Well, there aren’t a thousand ways to say it, so I take a deep breath, look him in the eye, and tell him the truth. “She wants to press charges for felony assault if I don’t break up with you.”

While Alex keeps steadily staring at me, his jaw drops slightly. “She’s fucking crazy,” he blurts out. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”

“She's got some strong evidence though…” I pause, observing his curiosity growing. “I saw the pictures.”

Alex chuckles, looking away for a moment. “Whatever you saw, it was all consensual, and it’ll be easily dismantled in court.”

“Her back had scars, and it was bleeding,” I point out.

Alex finishes to eat a bite of his food, before answering. “And?”

Now I’m the one shocked at his nonchalant expression. “And you think whipping a woman until her back gets scars and starts bleeding is okay?”

He drinks some water before taking the white napkin to wipe his mouth. “If that’s her thing,” he says, his tone just as casual as before. “I know many women that are into that.” I can’t help but shake my head in denial at his comment. He truly thinks that’s okay? How can he believe that? “Just because you aren’t into it, doesn’t mean others aren’t.”

“She’ll have those scars for life.” My tone comes out louder and more irritated than I expected though. “That’s sick.”

“Not for her,” he replies back, keeping his tone pretty chilled as he continues to cut his food and eat. “She’s proud of those scars.”

The more he speaks, the more astonished and nauseous I am. “How can you say something like that without an ounce of remorse?”

“Because I know her,” he snaps, his voice steady. “Look, I understand that, for most people, seeing pictures of a woman with her back filled with whipping scars is revolting, but Amanda craves that.” Alex lets out a sigh, pausing for an instant. “And she is not the only one, believe me.”

“You marked more women like that?” I ask, my nerves boiling.

Alex frowns, looking confused. “Like what?”

“Like Amanda? With scars that will remain on their skin forever?”

“No,” he says, and I can only hope it’s true. “Amanda was the only one I accepted to do permanent marking on.”

The only one he accepted? So there were more women asking him that? I look down for a moment, barely believing what I’m hearing. “She’s the one who asked you?”

“Yes. This is something she wanted, and I agreed to it.”

Despite hating what he has done to her, I remember how Amanda looked at those photographs, with affection and nostalgia, which means Alex is most likely stating the truth, and that’s why it’s even more disturbing. How a successful publicist like Amanda can let her partner whip her until she gets scars for life is beyond my understanding. And being proud of that? Well, while I thought I was mentally ill to love a man with so few morals, Amanda definitely takes the cake. “I’ll never let you do that on me. Mark my words,” I remind him, just in case.

“And I respect that.”

After such a talk, my stomach is in knots, and despite Maria placing my starter in front of me, I don’t find the will to eat. “You’ll need a good defense because those pictures were really revolting.”

After telling him that, I get up from my seat, and as I’m about to leave the table and walk out of the dining room, Alex asks, “Where are you going?”

I contain the will to snap something at him, and instead just say, “Getting ready for the party, don’t we have to be at Mike’s place at nine or so?”

“Wait.” Alex also stands up and walks in my direction. Then, stopping right in front me, he starts observing my face attentively. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“I’m not mad,” I tell him, a bit disoriented by his piercing blue eyes trying to read through me. “It’s just… It’s just hard to accept how violent you were with those women. Even if it was consensual, even if they enjoyed it, even if they are proud of their scars. It’s pretty disturbing for me to have seen what you used to do to them.”

He nods in agreement, and there’s something in his expression that switches, becoming more empathetic. “I’m sorry you saw those images,” he says quietly, the back of his fingers softly grazing my cheek. “I’ll never do that to you. I gave you my word last Christmas, remember?” How could I forget that night? It was also during that night he admitted he used to flog women. I just never realized how violent that was.

I smile at him, closing my eyes to revel in his touch. Then, I feel him pulling me closer to him so that he can take me in his embrace. The warmth of his body soothes me instantly, and his gentleness is such a big contrast with the violence I saw on those pictures. A few moments of silence goes by as I treasure his hug as much as I can. Despite not being in the best mood, I will never get tired of being in his arms.

“You don’t want to eat something before going to Mike’s party?” As he releases me, I can see the worry in his gaze for me wanting to skip dinner.

“I’m not hungry; that talk left me without appetite.”

“Petra, we have an agreement; you have to eat something every evening.”

“Can’t we do an exception today?” I ask with begging eyes. “I promise, tomorrow I will eat.”

“I hope so,” he replies after considering me. As I’m about to leave, he adds, “By the way, I got you a dress for this evening. It should be in your closet.”

Oh, why am I not surprised by this? The fact he thinks about all of the littlest details makes my heart jump up to the ceiling. I feel quite tempted to go and thank him with a kiss, but I refrain myself from doing so. I know I shouldn’t be holding a grudge against him for what he did to those women. But the images of Amanda’s scars are still fresh in my mind, leaving me sad and disappointed. After all, from the accident that killed his friend’s sister to the way he flogged Amanda, it’s far from the caring and protective Alex I know. “Thanks,” I say instead.

Alex smirks in return, and I wonder why. “May I have a kiss before you go?”