Page 59 of Captive Audience
I got rid of every file recorded since the moment I’d arrived.
It didn’t matter. The images of Rook and me naked and having the best sex of my life were burned into my brain.
My gaze caught on the remote control resting on the side of the desk. I pointed it at the wall and hit the Power button.
The screens awakened in unison. A street corner, an alleyway, the back of a bar, and then…my living room. Couch, kitchen, tripod, exactly as I’d left them days ago.
I fished my phone out and remembered Rook was listed asHusbandin my contacts. I hit up Google for the Gaelic word fordeviland changed his name toDiabhal.
I snapped a photo of the bank of screens and sent it to Rook.
Explain.
Before my eyes,Diabhalreverted toHusband.
What in the actual fuck?
Then the little typing bubble appeared so fast that I wondered if he’d been anticipating my message.
Husband
Surprise.
For a second, there were no words, only the absurdity of it all. The man who’d drugged me and married me while I’d slept had, apparently, made a home theater of my life.
You belong in a padded cell. You know that, right?
Three dots, then:
Husband
Have you deleted the footage yet?
Yes.
Did you watch it first?
Of course not.
Try again.
A sinking feeling settled in my gut, and my gaze cut to theceiling. Just because I couldn’t see a camera didn’t mean there wasn’t one in here.
Are you watching me now?
Husband
What do you think?
Blow a kiss at the AC duct, love.
A smirk tugged at my face before I caught it and shoved it away. When I came to my senses, I flipped him the bird. If he wanted theater, fine. He could have it.
Husband
Bad wife.
I tossed the phone onto the desk and dragged both hands over my face.
