Chapter 44

"It's yours."

He's far too closed off to be mine. I think it's just the fact that I'm taking him by surprise that convinces him to let himself be pushed into the chair. I climb back into his arms and undo the first few buttons. Just as I suspect, there's a thin trace of lipstick on his neck. Pink. I stand up and can't push the chair more than a few inches.

"And the lipstick is all mine?" I ask irritated.

We both know it's not. My lipstick is cherry red almost every day. I pull away when he wants to reach for me.

"It's not what you think," he tries the most ridiculous explanation of existence.

"No? And what the hell are you telling me? That she tripped and crashed into you while falling? That's what I said too," I mumbled when he was quiet. "I thought we were monogamous. You come to me with speeches about relationships and trying to… When you're doing the exact opposite. Damn you! Damn you," I keep hissing at him.

"Kassie, if you don't shut up right now, I'll make you shut up," he warns me. "We're not arguing today and not here, do you understand? This is not the right place."

I know he's right.

"Then come out," I ask.

"What?"

"I'm going to go outside," I correct myself and head for the door. "I'm going to go downstairs and wait for you by the car for exactly five minutes. If you don't come with a good explanation by then, know that I don't want you to come looking for me anymore. And I insist that it be a good one."

"I have no excuse," he sighs and comes after me immediately, determined not to use those five minutes that I so badly needed to clear my mind. "I only did it because I had the chance. Because she sat in my arms," he pressed the elevator button and I prayed we wouldn't be alone there. "So I left her. That's all I did, I let her do her thing."

"We had an agreement, that's all I remember. A damn agreement," I hiss, trying my best to listen to him and not draw any more attention. "Tell me who it was at least. Who it is. And how many times have you..."

Something is coming to my mind that I can't even say the word. Maybe because I don't know it. Because I don't know how to say it anymore.

"Once. Today."

Liar.

"With whom?"

The elevator opens. Maybe I could have. I could have managed to keep my cool, to pretend that everything was fine if I hadn't known what that shy smile of the woman in the elevator meant. Tall and thin, blonde, a kind of overly tanned Delilah. I want to find her flaws. To tell myself that her breasts, lifted and enlarged by silicones don't look good, that her long bob is boring or at least that the slippers on her feet are from last season. That she has a fake bag and not from some well-known brand. But I don't know if the bag is original or not and honestly, I don't give a damn about the stiletto slippers. I recognize her lipstick though. That dirty shade of pink as she looks at my husband as if she doesn't see me there. I think I recognize her because she looks vaguely familiar to me. I don't know where to find her though. She's in the elevator with a red folder in her hand. She's waiting patiently for us to get on.

"You take the stairs," I briefly announce to Travis.

I don't give her time to answer. I go up and press the button to close the doors and he knows it's a bad idea to stop them with his hand. My phone vibrates almost immediately. Be good. I take that as confirmation. It's her. It's her. I can't wait to say something to her. To hear my thoughts. All I do is block the elevator and even if she recognizes me she should expect a scandal, at most a scolding like in the book. No. I don't recognize me.

"Why did you do that?" She's stupid enough to ask me.

"I needed privacy," I announce briefly and move the stone from my engagement ring inside my palm.

My subconscious knows what I want to do. It knows exactly what will happen and my body is preparing. I don't have to leave any obvious traces. It should be clear who it was.

"Privacy?"

"Today," I hesitate. "With Travis Wade. You and him."

"Oh! Yes, we…" she giggles excitedly and I realize she has no idea who I am.

"Kassie Wade," I extend my hand and savor the way the color leaves her overly tanned cheeks.

She's pretty. Gorgeous. It doesn't stop me from punching her in the face, on the contrary. My fist slams into her nose like I learned in prison. She's perfect. I continue despite her confusion and when I finally get into a position of power, on top of her, she struggles to get me off. She looks like a damn model. The elevator starts moving. Travis. She screams. She begs me to stop. Her body is toned and some would say she has enough strength to get me off her. The doors open and for a moment I collapse. I fall and land on my elbow. It hurts but the adrenaline doesn't leave me and I get up. I follow her immediately. I remember the hunt. Kassie is part of the family. I smile. I can see her shadow, hiding behind a car. I grab one of her expensive shoes, new, from last season. Red. Stop, I hear my grandmother's voice in the back of my mind. *Finish what you started.* I hear her crying and I grab her. I lift her hair. She hasn't finished talking yet.

"You and him?"

She's begging me not to hurt her. I wonder at what point she knew this wasn't just a friendly fight, between a wife and a mistress, but something more serious, like between a murderer and his victim. I insist. I want to know. And I want to hear her begging me.

"I didn't know he was married, I swear," she's finally telling me what I want to hear. "I didn't know. If I had known, I wouldn't..."

"He's wearing a wedding ring."

"He's been wearing it for a long time and I've never seen a wife. I thought it was just... To keep someone at bay or some kind of promise ring or... I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Please Kassie!"

"Tell me what you did," I kneel her in front of me. "Now."

I squeeze his jaw between my fingers. I wait. She continues. I don't recognize myself.

"I… I kissed him a few times. And I… I gave him a blowjob, that's all. But I swear it's just because…"

Honestly, I don't care why. I hit her across the face with the back of my hand and when she falls she realizes, I hope, that the only advantage she had was that I was curious about what they did. When I want her to get close to me, she manages to hit me. Pretty bad, I think. What she does is irritate me more. I tighten my shoe tighter and lean over. I don't hesitate anymore when I see Travis on the stairs. Her heel is sharp enough to go through her skin, through her flesh, and get some high-pitched screams from her. I hit her until she's quiet. Until she stops moving. And when I realize she's dead I get up and kick her. I lift her face towards me. The devil knows I've tried not to do this to her. To hold back. To never do it again. Sometimes I scare myself with the things I'm capable of but I shove that heel down her throat without regret. Travis, his white shirt rolled up at the elbows and no tie, comes toward me. He kneels next to the body. Next to me. Next to the blood.

"You're next," you warn him. "If you do that again, Travis, I swear..."

I see him smiling. I lift his chin with two fingers so I can look him in the eye.

"I have always known that I would die for love," he whispers to me complicitly, playfully, and I already know that it's a quote from some book and that Travis is the only one who can transform our relationship into poetry.

"I'm serious," I warn him and get up.

"I know," he's following me. "We should clean up here. Or I can do it for you," he sighs when I don't say anything.

"No, no. I'll clean up after myself and you'll help me."

Our relationship is radioactive.

"So are we okay? Like before?" He wants to know.

"You think so. Right now we're nothing. Not even friends."

"We are husband and wife."

"That's another story. I can be married to you and hate you."

"Do you hate me?"

"Yes. Oh my God!" I get it. "But it's not just that."

"I hate you too sometimes. Sometimes, I wake up at night and think how easy it would be to grab you by the throat and that's it. If I pressed a pillow on your face, you wouldn't be able to avoid me. I won't do it though. Like you said, it's not just that. That's why I love being with you so much. You're a challenge and I think you always will be. I can be myself with you. That's it. I can be whoever the hell I want to be. I can grab you by the throat until you're out of breath and kiss you at the same time and you wouldn't be scared. You wouldn't run away. You would understand."

It's just that his hand is already on my neck and even though he's not squeezing, I know he wants to do it. Even though he's not kissing me, I know he's burning for it. I'm covered in blood. The red is taking on brownish hues on my black clothes, but at least it's not that obvious. I run my hand over his face. I'm getting him dirty too, as if I want to remind him that he's just like me. And I understand something, the rules don't apply to us. We're made to be chaotic. We're made to destroy and create each other. I'm the one kissing him because I know he wants more than that. And he helps me, after we put our clothes back on, to squeeze after me and we both know that if at night I want to cry or just talk about what I did, he'll listen to me patiently and obediently, or if he wants to tell me about the fight with David, not because I killed someone at his company but because his son didn't attend the meeting, I'll listen to him. Hades texts me in the middle of the night. *Are you awake?* I read the message in my notifications. I don't answer. I am. But I don't know what to say to him. *You were gorgeous today,* he continues. *I felt like hanging Travis because he can touch you and I can't. I smile.* I like the idea. I don't recognize myself. I'm not myself. *Are you upset that I didn't tell you no?* He keeps texting me. *I'm sorry. I still want to talk. Please Kassie.* My head is exploding. Hades has always been warm and sensitive to me. Hades is a Greek god while Travis is just an ordinary mortal. I don't know if I want to hide it or not. *I'm home,* I text him back. It doesn't take him five minutes to call me.