Exiled (A Madame X Novel) Read Free Page B

turns your spine rigid. Shoulders go back. Head up.
    And you turn away from me. Vanish.
    I hear my door open, close. Hear the elevator.
    And I am left to wonder: What just happened?
    Who was that in my bed, making love to me? That was not Caleb. But it wasn’t Jakob, either. It was some chimera of the two. And now he is gone. That was a man I would have . . . the thought pierces me . . . a man I could have fallen in love with. I wanted toknow the source of his pain. I wanted to heal him. Protect him. Comfort him. Hold him close and know his secrets so I can tell him I love him for them, in spite of them, beyond them.
    But he is gone.
    Shoved back down into the depths of your unfathomable soul. Locked away behind the iron mask you wear.
    A thought occurs to me:
    I just had sex with Caleb. Again.
    I fell under his sorcery. Again.
    But it was
different
, a part of me argues—
    He faced you; he did it naked; he held your eyes the whole time;
    it
meant
something—
    Everything inside me crumples, and collapses.
    Suddenly, I am sobbing.
    Who am I?
    What kind of woman am I that I could make love to the man who has so continually lied to me about who I am?
    That man. God, that man.
    You.
    You hide me from me. You lie to me. You obfuscate. You refuse to answer. You run away rather than just tell me the truth. Why?
Why?
What horrible secret lies in our shared past that you are so afraid of me knowing?
    And how can I allow you to take my body and use it at your desire? How can I allow you to
fuck
me again and again and again, knowing nothing will ever change?
    You killed Logan.
    Logan.
    God, Logan. How could I face him now? Even if he were alive, how could I face him? How could I go to him and tell him that I allowed you to
fuck me
yet again, after what Logan and I shared?
    Was that fucking, between you and me, Caleb?
    No; it was something else. I don’t know what. Something raw and ragged and desperate.
    Wrong.
    Yet . . . it was more real and honest than any other moment I’ve ever spent in your presence.
    But Logan. Logan. I fall into renewed sobs at the thought of him—
    I don’t fall easy, Isabel. But when I do, I fall hard and fast.
    There’s no going back for me now—
    I can hear his voice, almost. I can see the light in his indigo eyes as he gazes at me. The brilliance of his easy smile.
    And I hear my own words, my promise to him—
You are my path, Log
an.
    I am a horrible, weak, despicable person.
    I have no path. Only a road paved with sins and scars and pain and mistakes.
    But yet, I do not give in.
    I cannot.
    Will not.
    Some internal compulsion has me leaving the bed. Washing you from my body. Tying my damp hair into a knot at my nape, and dressing in the clothes I began the day with, an expensive dress, the sleeves ripped off, neckline torn open to reveal a little too much cleavage.
    Slip my feet into a pair of heels.
    I do not know what is driving me.
    But I am leaving the building. Ignoring the eyes as I push through the revolving door and out onto the street. The voices wash over me, the rush of cars, the horns, the groan of engines. But I am not brought to my knees by panic.
    I see a car idling at the curb a few dozen yards away, window open. A white car with lights on top; NYPD. I lean into the open passenger window.
    “Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where the nearest hospital is?”
    The man within, the police officer, is older, portly, graying. “St. Vincent. Eighth and Thirty-fourth.” Gruffly, impolite.
    “Thank you, officer.” I turn away, start walking.
    “Hey!” The officer’s voice calls out. I glance back, and he’s pointing from the window in the opposite direction. “You’re goin’ the wrong way, sweetheart.”
    I find my way to St. Vincent. The woman behind the reception counter is young, Hispanic, in scrubs.
    “I’m looking for someone who might be a patient here. Logan Ryder.”
    The woman says nothing, just taps at a keyboard, eyes flicking across the screen. “Nope.