“Gareth, isn’t it wonderful that they are getting married? It’s happened so quickly...it’s just...so romantic.”
I looked down at Sam hanging off my arm, her pretty little strawberry blonde head full of love, butterflies, and rainbows. Stupid bitch. I thought she’d done a runner after finding out about me, and I then had to put up with Gareth-Fucking-Pansy moping around like a soft cock. That was the last thing I needed. Wonder what changed her mind? I guess it doesn’t matter. Solves my sooky la la Gareth problem, so who gives a fuck?
“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.