Page 35 of It Destroys Me

Theo sat up and leaned against the headboard, the sheets to his waist.

“Please kill him.” I’d never wished death on anyone, but I wished it now. Wished it on the person I’d vowed to love for the rest of my life. The very person who’d choked me until I blacked out and left me on the kitchen floor.

“I will, sweetheart.”

I wanted to be free of him. Not just to be with Theo, but to move on with my life without looking over my shoulder. Whenever I was at the gallery, I expected Bolton to burst inside and drag me home.

“But I might have to kill her too,” he said. “How do you feel about that?”

“Why would you have to kill her?”

“If she loves him, I doubt she’s going to stand by and do nothing. They’ll have guns in the house. If she takes a shot, I’m shooting her first.” He continued to look at me. “Is that okay with you?”

“Why are you asking my permission?”

“I don’t hurt women. Never hurt a woman in my life. The last thing I want is for you to look at me differently.”

“She’s an innocent person who doesn’t deserve to die. Having an affair with a married man isn’t a legal crime, just a moral one. But if she really tries to kill you, then you won’t have a choice.”

I’d just had the guys place the painting in the back of the moving truck outside. One of my clients had bought another vacation house, and he needed something special to go over the mantel in the sitting room. He bought it without seeing it in person because the picture on my phone was enough to make him fall in love with it.

I returned to my desk and texted him. She’s on the delivery truck. Will be there in a couple hours.

He replied right away. Thanks, Astrid. He sent a thumbs-up emoji.

I made a fifteen percent commission off my paintings, so a €50,000 painting like the one I’d just sold netted me about seven thousand euros. Sometimes I felt guilty taking the commission when my sales tactic was not to have a sales tactic. If they wanted to buy the painting, they would. I didn’t feel right manipulating them into the purchase. Or flirting with the male clients just so they would try to impress me. That was a tip my old coworker had given me, but I’d never taken her advice.

I definitely wouldn’t take her advice now, not when I had Theo. Not when I had the man of my dreams in my bed every night. Not when he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t squander that for any commission, no matter how big it was.

My phone started to ring. It was a blocked call.

It wasn’t unusual to get calls from blocked numbers because some of my clients were really wealthy and really paranoid. I took the call. “This is Astrid.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“It’s nice to hear your voice.”

My day had been going so well, and just like that, it went to fucking shit. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even if he altered it, I would still know it was him. Just by the way he said things, the inflection in his voice on certain words. Ice floated in my veins, and my heart gave a sharp jolt as it contracted sooner than it was supposed to. All I could think about was Theo, wanting his help but not able to ask for it.

Bolton remained quiet as he waited for me to say something.

I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if he was across the street watching me. If he would grab me when I walked out to my car after I closed up the gallery at the end of the day. “What do you want?” I pulled the phone away from my ear and hit the speaker button before I opened my messages and typed a quick message to Theo. I neef helpp. My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t spell shit. I sent it off and knew he would figure it out.

“What do I want?” he asked, like it was a dumb question.

I took him off speaker before I spoke, knowing he would notice the change in my voice and grow suspicious if I didn’t. I didn’t say anything back, so caught off guard that I could barely think.

“What kind of fucking question is that?”

My phone vibrated next to my ear, and I glanced at the screen. Theo had already written back. On my way. I stopped myself from breathing a sigh of relief at the message. He hadn’t been there when I’d needed him before, but it barely took him five seconds to respond now. I had no idea if he was at home sleeping in or if he was at work. But whatever he was doing, it didn’t stop him from dropping it to rush to me.

“I’m still your husband, Astrid.”

The word husband triggered me. Because a husband should never do any of the things he’d done to me—his fucking wife. “You’re nothing to me, Bolton.”

He was quiet.