Page 163
Chapter 163 of "Possessive Sinner" opens with: That lands hard."Pete was a good man," I snap."He was asafeman," she corrects. "There's a... See what unfolds next!
That lands hard.
"Pete was a good man," I snap.
"He was asafeman," she corrects. "There's a difference."
The silence that falls is heavy and ugly. "He couldn't handle you," she continues, softer now. "Not really. Not what you are."
I don't even know what that means anymore.
"You're much better off going back to Gabe," she adds.
I let out a hollow laugh. "Of course you'd say that."
"I'm serious," she insists. "If you don't love him, it's much easier to control him."
I'm still staring at the phone, because that seems to be all I'm capable of.
"Control him?" I repeat.
"Men like him?" I can basically see her shrug. "They're predictable. Power. Desire. Ego. You just have to know how to use it."
That… doesn't sound right. Not when it comes to Gabe. Not even close. I have a feeling nothing and nobody will evercontrolthat man. I wouldn't even want to. He's… I settle for interesting, because all other adjectives are way too dangerous to think about now.
"Not like Pete," she continues. "He was a mistake. A weak mistake."
"Stop," I cry sharply.
But she doesn't.
"You settled," she accuses bluntly. "And now you're paying for it."
My stomach churns again. Worse this time. I press a hand against it, swallowing hard. What is wrong with me? Everything feels off. My body. My mind. My life. All of it.
"Well, then, are you on your way back?"
I notice a shadow passing by the window that leads to the front door. I pause. It's a large shadow. I narrow my eyes.
"There is a man outside," I tell Mom.
"A man?"
Quietly, phone still in hand, I walk to the window. The blinds are closed, but they let in enough light to have noticed the shadow. If I tilt my head a certain way, I can see outside, even though it seems like I'm looking through the bars of a jail cell. My heart does a quick jump in my chest when I recognize the man from the funeral. Detective Greenwald. Shit.
Before he can raise his hand to knock on the door, another familiar face appears, takes the raised fist into a death grip, andshakes his head. That's all Brick needs to do. He looks scary enough to chase even a police officer off.
If my heart jumped at the sight of Greenwald, it nearly leaps out of my chest at the sight of Gabe's trusted guard.Shit.
"Shit."
"What?" Mom demands edgily.
"I've got to go. The cops are here."
"Oh!"
I hang up and open the door, just in time to hear Brick say, "Talk to her lawyer."
"Mrs. Hale," Greenwald exclaims when he sees me lurking in the entryway, while the look Brick gives me could be easily called a death glare.