The Goblin King (16 page)

This time, so was she. She’d learned to play the game his way. Eliza smiled, part nerves, part excitement, and crossed her arms. She leaned against the door as if she threw out his belongings every day of the week.

Steve’s eyes narrowed. His lips didn’t move, but she knew he was thinking about what to say. Start the argument right and win at all costs. She fired the first shot.

“I took the liberty of packing your clothes. You won’t be staying here anymore.” Eliza’s voice was a thousand times more steady than she felt. Her hands sweated against her arms, and her stomach was clenched so tight it would be days before she would be able to force it to take food.

He swallowed, digesting the turn of events. “We will be married next week. It’s hardly worth me moving out.”

“Married. We don’t have to live together.”

“I’m not moving out.” He loosened his tie.

Eliza pulled the folded piece of paper from her pocket. She smoothed it out slowly, making him wait for a change. He watched her hands but kept himself in check.

“If you don’t leave, I will ring Alistair and have every cent, every property, every share owned by the trust turned over to Amanda and Brigit.” She handed him the piece of paper—a copy of the instructions she had lodged with her lawyer after the dress fitting.

His gaze flicked over the page. His face paled, but his features were carefully schooled. Would he allow this piece of new evidence to be admitted into the argument?

Steve folded the paper back up and placed it into his jacket pocket. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You want marriage. You want the partnership. It’s yours. But it is a marriage in name only. We will not live together. You don’t get access to any of the trust. No more suits, cars, holidays unless you pay for them.”

“It’s too late to negotiate.”

Eliza stood straight. “No, it’s not. You see, I got to thinking. I am of more value to you as a wife than I am in jail.”

Spots of pink flushed his cheeks. His lips pulled back in a grimace that was like a smile wrapped around the mouth of a dried out corpse. “Has that bitch been in your ear? Ever since you’ve been back—”

“I woke up.”

“You can’t throw me out. People will talk.”

“Let them.” For the first time she didn’t care what people thought. She’d spent so long living up to the Coulter name. Now she wanted to be just Eliza.

Steve raised his hand. “In one week you’re my wife. You’re mine.”

“In one week I own you,” Eliza corrected. She stood just out of reach. She didn’t drop her gaze or back down. She’d found the crack in his armor and was prepared to deliver the lethal blow. She would rather go to jail and hand over the trust fund than live life as man and wife with Steve. And he knew it.

“You can’t do this. I’ll call the police, I’ll tell them everything.”

Eliza pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “Good idea.” She dialed emergency services. Not Detective Griffin’s number. She wasn’t desperate enough to tell all. She would only do that when she had the documents that proved it was Steve doing the stealing.

He watched, daring her to stop. She put the phone to her ear. The line connected.

“What are you doing?” He reached out to snatch the phone away.

Eliza spun away and the vase of silk flowers hit the floor.

“Hello, police.”

“Give me the phone.” Steve caught her hand.

“Coulter, Bay View Terrace, Peppermint—”

He wrenched the phone out of her hand and hung up. He glared at her. She returned the stare, refusing to cave or bend to his will. Not this time. It may only be a small part of her life to regain, but it was a start.

“You can explain to the police, if they arrive, that you were making a scene.”

“What I tell them depends on where you are.” She opened the cloakroom door and pulled out the raincoat he kept there. He might need it tonight; the weather was getting wild.

Steve took hold of the fabric and pulled her close. “You can’t win.”

“I lose either way. The difference is I don’t care.” She tugged on the coat, pulling him toward the door.

She used her elbow to turn the handle and her foot to kick open the door. She pulled Steve out the door with the raincoat.

“You’re crazy.” He jerked, trying to snatch it back.

“I should’ve done it years ago.” She tightened her hold, her muscles burning from the effort. “You get what you want, but I get the house. I get my life.”

He pulled again and she let go. Steve went sprawling onto the veranda. Too late, he realized what she’d planned. He scrambled to get up while she slipped inside and closed the door. The lock snapped into place.

Steve pounded on the door. The wood sung beneath his fist and reverberated through her body. She sobbed without tears. She’d wounded the beast but not killed him. Steve was more dangerous than ever.

The night went silent.

Eliza peeked out the glass pane at the side. A white car had pulled into the driveway. Her heart constricted, preventing her from swallowing. Two uniformed police walked up the driveway, then up the path, their serious blueness a sign she’d gone too far. They stepped around the orange bags. “Good evening, sir. Got a call about a disturbance. Is there a problem?”

“I seem to have locked my keys inside.”

One of the officers looked at Eliza. She held her breath not wanting to miss a word of the conversation.

“Your partner won’t let you in?”

“She’s PMSing.”

The female office nodded. “Mind if I chat with her?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder. “Not at all.”

Eliza wanted to be sick. It was never supposed to come to this. Steve was supposed to leave knowing the wedding would go ahead. He wasn’t supposed to challenge her to a game of chicken with the cops. Her fingers wouldn’t work properly. She fumbled the lock twice before getting it open.

“Good evening, miss.” The cop walked in, and her gaze left Eliza as she took in the broken vase and scattered flowers.

“Coulter,” Eliza filled in.

The woman’s eyes flashed in recognition. “Was it you who called?”

Eliza nodded. Steve was talking, but they had moved away from the door so all she heard was the rhythm of speech with no definite words. The handcuffs at the woman’s side beckoned. Eliza rubbed her wrists.

“I asked him to move out.” More like demanded, but she wasn’t ready to divulge their under-the-table deals.

“He didn’t like that.” The woman glanced at her partner.

“No.”

“What started the argument?”

“Wedding plans, my missing days.” If she’d known it would get this far, she wouldn’t have started. It was easier to toe the line than make a new one.

The other officer signaled his partner. The policewoman went outside. They both spoke to Steve. Eliza kept her back straight, but inside she was wilting. He’d spilled. She was sure of it, and she was going to jail. Steve turned and gave a look so bitter it should’ve been accompanied with a slicing gesture across the neck.

The man pulled out some paperwork. He filled it in and then approached her. Her eyes widened.

“Evening, Ms. Coulter. Can you please get Mr. Slade’s car keys?”

“His keys?” The simple request gave her hope…Steve hadn’t told them. Maybe his fraud wasn’t as well hidden as he claimed.

The policeman nodded.

Eliza bit back a nervous smile as she walked through the house and retrieved the keys. She placed them in the cop’s hand not sure what to expect. In exchange he gave her a piece of paper.

“This is a twenty-four-hour police order. Mr. Slade must stay away from the house. If he breaches the order, ring and he will be arrested.”

It was a magical lifeline. Her fingers crushed the paper, making sure it was real. Steve was leaving. “Thank you.”

The officer remained standing on her veranda. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

“Good night, ma’am. Make sure you lock up.” The cop walked away.

Eliza locked the door. The house breathed a sigh of relief that echoed around her. She was truly alone for the first time in years. She wanted to cry, but if she started she’d never stop. She blinked and drew in lungfuls of air. She’d done it. Only one thing remained.

She picked up the phone and dialed, then spoke to the computer operator.

“Locksmith.”

She was going to lock up so Steve never got back in to her house. Removing him from her life was going to be harder.

It was midnight by the time the locksmith left. Every door lock had been changed. The house didn’t move around her. The silence waited to be filled by music or voices or footsteps. Instead, every light burned to push back the emptiness.

Outside a storm was in the making. The clouds had erased the stars from the sky. Wind coiled around the trees and shook them. Inside the house remained untouched. The stains of Steve’s life here remained, but they could be wiped clear. The house would be hers. She double-checked all the locks again. The reality of spending the night alone had her jumping at her own heartbeat.

Eliza set the alarm and ran up to the guest room. The room was lit only by the bedside light because she hadn’t replaced the main bulb. She dropped her new keys into her handbag and surveyed the room.

The bed still held the imprints of the goblin’s knees. She shuddered. With a tug she wrenched the sheets off the bed. They resettled smooth and unmarked. The memory of the goblin’s face wasn’t as easy to remove. She couldn’t sleep in this room. How could she not call him in her sleep when he was all she thought about?

From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of cream paper poking out from beneath the bed. She dropped to her knees to retrieve it. She picked it up, knowing what it was but holding it like a treasure. The gold words bored into her heart. She wiped her face and her hand came away wet. Why had he proved what a monster he was? Why couldn’t he let her believe he was a man?

Her cell phone rang. Private number. Thinking it was the police she answered.

“Hello, Eliza.” Steve’s voice was razor sharp.

She stood, dropping the paper, and rushed to the window expecting to see Steve out in the front yard. The driveway was empty except for the shivering shadows of trees.

“Very clever. I saw what you did. Tut tut. I’m going to need new keys in twenty-four hours.”

“Never. The house will be Amanda’s before I let you back inside.” Her heart hammered in her chest. Thunder churned the clouds, clotting the sky. Were there goblins out there already? Eliza drew the curtain. She couldn’t see Steve, but he might be able to see her.

“You’ve won this battle, but it’s not over, Eliza.”

“It’ll never be over. Would you have let me go in five years? Ten years? How many until you destroyed the evidence and let me go?”

“Never. You’re mine, Eliza. Just like your father wanted.”

“If he’d known what you were like—”

“He was a politician. I worked for him and his mates. You think his hands were clean?”

Eliza covered her eyes and shook her head. “Stop. He’s dead.” Her father had faults, but she couldn’t believe he was corrupt.

“They all are. I’m all you have left.”

Eliza stared at her feet. “Then I still have nothing.” She hung up. No matter what she did or how much space she carved around herself, she would always be known as Steve’s wife. A title no woman deserved.

Roan’s invitation lay on the floor. Would he become human again if she accepted? Is that what he was hoping for? So far the book had mentioned nothing about curses or queens. Accepting was a risk. If nothing changed, she would be stuck in the Shadowlands. A goblin queen. She licked her lip. If she accepted she could be with him, maybe save him. She closed her eyes and imagined Roan in her house, by her side. Human.

Her phone beeped twice. She opened her eyes and read the text message.

Lights out.

She heard the electricity die milliseconds before the lights went out. Alone in the dark. Eliza screamed. She dropped the phone. It bounced on the carpet. She lunged for it before its blue light faded.

The house was silent, but outside trees creaked and groaned. She waited for the cackle of goblins and the patter of feet as they ran through the house. Nothing. They would see the gold in the yard and ignore the house.

The light on the phone died. She pressed a button to get the light back. Her hands began to shake. She’d always feared the dark. Steve knew that. He was just trying to scare her. And it was working. Her heart beat hard, trying to break out of her chest. Roan’s name lingered on the tip of her tongue. All she had to do was call and he’d come.

She could find candles. She would be fine. She could call the police.

No she couldn’t. Steve wouldn’t hang around, waiting to get caught. The fuse box was outside. All she had to do was flick the switch and the lights would come back on. Her legs refused to move. What if he’d taken the fuse out? What if he was waiting for her to go out?