Fulfillment (Book 3 in The Temptation Series) (48 page)

“Okay, they
just arrived.” Lucy announced, clapping like a fucking seal.

I tilted my
head back and rolled my eyes, spotting the top of the staircase. A
wonderful memory entered my mind, bringing me back to when I snuck
in here months ago and pushed Alexis down the stairs. The bitch
didn’t see it coming, just tumbled down those steps like a rag
doll.

I should’ve
stayed around to make sure I’d done the job properly, but hearing
Bryce in his office made me nervous. He could never know I was the
one who had killed her; it had to look like an accident. Fuck, my
only regret was that I hadn’t killed her. Now I have to rethink and
rework my plan to get rid of her for good.

The ding of
the elevator snapped me out of my recollection, only to see my
Bryce and the bitch walk into the room.

“...and
because you’re carrying my...”

The room
erupted into cheers of congratulations.

“...baby,”
Bryce said with his hand on her stomach.

Are you
fucking serious? Not again. Fuck!

I felt my body
fill with rage, my limbs going rigid.

“Gareth, did
you hear that? She’s pregnant again.”

I stared
Alexis down, wanting to set her alight with my murderous gaze.

“Gareth, are
you okay?”

“What?” I
snapped at Sam.

“Are you
okay?” she repeated, looking scared.

Fuck it, I
can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend to be Gareth and I don’t
want to. I want this to end. I want it to fucking end. If I can’t
have Bryce then neither of us will.

“No, I’m not
okay, this ends here,” I hissed at Sam.

Then pushing
past one of Alexis’ stuck up bitch friends, I left the
apartment.

This fucking
ends here.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE

Our friends
and family all made their way home shortly after staying for the
afternoon tea Lucy had organised. Bryce had waited for them to
leave before heading out in search of Gareth, both of us being
overly concerned about the erratic behaviour Sam had mentioned.

He’d come back
over an hour later after having no luck in finding his cousin, and
I could tell he was deeply worried about the entire situation,
about me and my safety, but also about Gareth. I think he realised
that the meds and the therapy were no longer working, and the
alternative form of treatment was not something he wanted to
entertain.

Exhaustion had
eventually overcome him, seizing his mind and body and inevitably
leaving him asleep with his head on my chest and his arm across my
belly.

***

Bryce left
early the next morning to have a meeting with Jessica about
Gareth’s state of mind while I tackled the ever increasing workload
that being a personal assistant to Mr. Bryce Clark afforded me. He
was worried about leaving me alone, but I assured him that I’d be
fine and that he was only going to be gone for a short period of
time. Being the over-protective arse that he was, he made me do my
work from his secured office. I secretly appreciated this
demand.

Just as I was
finishing a phone call with Chris from Marketing, I heard a loud
clanging noise reverberating from the apartment.
That’s strange,
Bryce isn’t due back yet.
Curious who could be making the
noise, I walked over to the door and typed in our security code.
When it opened, I walked through, stepping into the dining room
only to be met by the unmistakable stench of gas—the smell
incredibly strong.
Shit! Did Bryce leave the stove on?
Panic
washed over me, knowing that from the gas’s potency, the vapours
had to be thick and in abundance.

I made the
choice to enter the kitchen and see if I was correct, hopefully
being able to turn it off. As I approached the island bench that
separated the kitchen from the dining room, Gareth shot up from his
squatted position down near the oven.

I froze.

You know
you’re in trouble when you get that undeniable feeling deep down in
the pit of your stomach, that feeling telling you to be alert
instinctively. I had that particular feeling, and as I took in
Gareth’s appearance, I sensed he was not the one before me.
Instead, Scott being present, and the gas smell a result of his
doing.

“Gareth,” I
said shakily. “What are you doing?” I tried to keep my voice
neutral and kind, but I was terrified, and my adrenalin was
pumping, causing my brain to switch into survival mode.

He put both
hands on the bench and smiled at me with a grin so malicious it was
revolting. “Just the person I was hoping to see,” he explained in a
tone laced with satisfaction. I noticed him clench his right hand
and rub his thumb over whatever he was holding.

Alarm bells
were sounding internally as my eyes automatically scouted the
kitchen, noting that all the burner knobs on the stove were turned
on with no flame, the oven door also wide open.

“How did you
get in here?”

“I have a
code,” he said cockily.

“That’s
strange...we just changed the codes after the elevator
malfunctioned.”

He scoffed.
“Why do you think the elevator malfunctioned? Lucy is not the only
one in the family that is good with computers.”

The pit of my
stomach dropped, but I forced myself to remain calm.
“Oh...so...what can I do for you? Do you want to go and sit in the
lounge or in Bryce’s office?”
Get out of this kitchen,
Alexis.

“Do you think
I’m stupid?” he said calmly, still displaying his evil smile.

“No, Gareth.
Why would I think you’re stupid?” I playfully laughed.

“You’re
fucking doing it again,” he screamed at me, making me jump.

Tears stung me
eyes as my fear hit a newfound heightened level. I began to
tremble. “What? What am I doing?”

He pointed his
hand at me, revealing that what he was holding was a lighter.
“You’re fucking treating me like a fool. Gareth is a fucking fool,
not me.”

“Scott? Oh,
I’m sorry Scott. No, you’re not a fool,” I sobbed.

“Ahhh,” he
laughed sadistically, “So now you understand. Now you want to be
honest with me.”

“I have been
honest,” I pleaded with him.

“Fucking
bullshit,” he spat back.

He took a step
back toward the stove, leaning over and checking the knobs. I
wanted to run out of the kitchen but my legs were weighted heavily
to the ground, riddled with fear and unfortunately forcing me to
stay put.

Reasoning with
him was my only option. “Scott, talk to me. Tell me what you
want.”

“I want you
dead,” he replied flatly.

Those words
and the manner in which he said them sent a chill through my body
so terrifying, that I nearly passed out.

“I don’t
understand, why do you want me dead?” I asked, now crying.

He stepped
toward the island bench, hatred and pain rolling off him in waves.
“Because he fucking loves you, that’s why!”

“And you love
him, don’t you?” I stuttered.

He closed his
eyes for the slightest of seconds. “Yes.”

“So why do you
want to hurt him by killing me? Surely you know that if you kill
me, it will kill him.”

“He’ll get
over you,” he said quickly, while grabbing the bridge of his nose.
“It’s me who he will mourn the most.”

Stupidly, I
opened my mouth again. “Why would he mourn you, Scott?” I asked,
confused and not understanding why he would mourn Scott if I were
the one dead.

His eyes shot
up and locked on mine, pure loathing coursing out of them and
cutting right through me like a knife.
Shit! I didn’t mean it
like that. Shut up, Alexis, just shut up. No, keep talking, it’s
buying you time.

“Because when
I fucking kill us both, he will be devastated.”

Oh, God. He’s
completely lost control.

“Scott, you
don’t have to do this—”

“Yes, I do. If
I can’t have him, neither will you.”

“But Scott,
I’m pregnant with his child,” I pleaded.

“It didn’t
matter last time and it won’t matter this time,” he said, as he
laughed to himself in a manner that suggested he was disappointed.
“I should’ve fucking pushed you harder, or better still, tossed you
over the railing.” He let out long-winded breath. “That doesn’t
matter, though; I will not make the same mistake twice.”

My knees went
weak and my body trembled profusely. I’d subconsciously known he
was to blame for my fall all along, but hearing it aloud horrified
me beyond belief, causing bile to rise in my throat and the sudden
urge to vomit wash over me.

He started
tapping the lighter on the bench, tauntingly, forcing me to watch
it slowly and take in its every detail.

Hearing the
tap of the plastic hitting the bench top over and over momentarily
removed my mind from the present torture, and an idea materialized
in my head, an idea that could quite possibly buy me more time and
inevitably make Bryce aware of my current situation.

“Scott, why
don’t you ring him, talk to him?”

He stopped
tapping the lighter. “I would like to hear his voice again—just one
more time.”

“I’m sure he’d
like to hear yours as well,” I said, with a faux smile, lying and
grasping the only lifeline I could.

He pulled a
phone out from his pocket, pressed a button and put it up to his
ear. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched his face change from
psychotic vengeance to enlightened sadness as he listened to
Bryce’s voice on the other end.

“If only that
were true, Bryce. I’m where I always am, right under your
nose.”

As he spoke
into the phone his posture slumped, indicating he was exhausted and
deflated. He was sad, and I couldn’t doubt that as delusional as it
was, Scott really did think that he loved Bryce and that Bryce was
his.

“I’m past
talking,” he murmured disappointedly.

His body
language and words were quickly demonstrating that he was going to
go through with his plan and blow up the room with both of us in
it.

I wanted to
run, to flee, or at least get out of the kitchen. If I could manage
to get out into the lounge area surely it would give me more of a
chance of survival, being a more open plan room and less
concentrated in gas fumes. I made a small step toward the door.

“I don’t
fucking want Samantha, Bryce. I want you. I’ve always wanted you,”
he screamed down the phone, forcing me to a halt once again.

Scott started
to sob painfully and his hand began to shake and rotate the
lighter. “I’m ending it and I’m taking her with me.”

His precise
conformation propelled me to cry out and say my goodbyes. “Bryce, I
love you. I’ll always love you. Tell the kids I love—”

Scott cut me
off. “Shut up, bitch. You don’t get to say goodbye.”

I cried out,
petrified, now realising I was going to die and never see my kids
again, never see Bryce, my family and friends. Then Scott paused
for a second, as if he were deliberating something Bryce had said,
giving me just the tiniest glimmer of hope.

I held my
breath.

“No. You’re
lying. I can see how much you love her.”

I closed my
eyes and slowly let out the breath. It was no use.

“No, you
don’t. Goodbye, Bryce.”

Scott laughed
painfully. “You won’t have to.”

He pushed a
button, gently set the phone down on the bench top and tilted his
head to the side. “You fucking brainwashed him. You ruined
him.”

I felt sick,
my nausea at its peak, and I soon realised it was partly due to
fear and partly due to the gas I was inhaling. I could also see the
fumes having an effect on Scott as he kept grabbing the bridge of
his nose and shaking his head.

My sight
drifted past his face, finding the many photos stuck to the fridge.
I focused in on the one of Bryce and me at Uluru, then to the photo
of Bryce and the kids sitting next to the Ronald McDonald statue,
and the one of all four of us taken the night of my birthday.

Drinking them
in, I filled myself with the vision of the stilled memories, the
happiness that was captured when they were taken and the people who
were in them. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want to die,
and as I cemented those thoughts within my head, something came
over me. Call it strength, will power, the uncontrollable urge to
survive. Whatever it was, it made me realise I had to do something.
I had to change my tact. It was my only chance.

“Gareth, I
know you are in there, I know you can hear me. Fight him, show him
once and for all you are in control—”

“Shut the fuck
up!” Scott growled, grabbing his nose again.

I continued,
not knowing what else to do. “Gareth, fight him! Do it for you. Do
it for Bryce. Do it for Lauchie. Don’t let Scott ruin your life,” I
begged.

“Argh!” he
moaned, pushing his hands into his forehead. “Fuck!”

“Gareth,
please,” I screamed in desperation.

He was
clenching his head so aggressively; his eyes closed so tight.

“Alexis, I’m
sorry,” he groaned, his tone noticeably different.

“Gareth is
that you?”

“Argh! Alexis
run!”

It was him, it
was working. My heart started beating faster and my adrenalin
picked back up. “Gareth, no, fight him, please. You can beat
him.”

“I can’t. Go!
Go!” he begged while opening his eyes and clearly conveying to me
that it was now or never.

In the back of
your mind you think that there could come a time in your life where
you may be faced with the decision to fight or to take flight. I
think all of us like the notion that we would chose to stay and
fight if we had to, but in hindsight that may not always be the
best choice. If I didn’t have family that loved me, children I
adored and who depended on me, and a life growing deep within that
I was blessed with protecting, I may have stayed and helped Gareth
fight. I wanted to but I didn’t. I chose flight and ran, ran as
fast as I could.