The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 42

"No." Shit. He had them taken out because he didn't want recordings of his sexploits.

"So we have only your word against Ms. Faulkner's as to what happened last night?" Officer Cutter says with meaning.

"Yes." He's afraid so.

"Tell us what happened."

"Brian," Karen warns.

"We went up to my apartment. She asked to wash the pasta sauce off her dress. I pointed in the direction of the guest bathroom. I went up to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. When I came down, she was in my white silk bathrobe. She was seated on the sofa in my lounge. She had poured both of us drinks from my bar."

He pauses, trying to remember through the fugue in his brain.

"We started fooling around."

"Be specific," Karen encourages.

Yeah. Specificity is important here, he gets that now. "I sat beside her on the couch. We downed our drinks and put the glasses down. We started kissing."

"Who kissed who first?" Officer Cutter interrupts.

"I kissed her first," Brian says, his eyes meeting the policeman's. "It's what I do."

He's the one who always has to be in command. In charge of the situation.

"And then?"

"She kissed me back."

"Are you certain, Mr. Morton?"

"Yes. We were kissing on my sofa, and then the room started to spin."

Karen says quickly, "My client does not remember anything after that point, officers."

"Do you do drugs, Mr. Morton?"

"Not that night."

"But you do drugs occasionally?"

"Only recreational ones. And not that often," Brian says.

Karen shoots him a glare.

"Hey, I'm being honest," he shoots back.

"Will you be willing to submit to a blood and urine test?"

Brian holds out his arm. "Why not? I have nothing to hide."

"So you keep repeating." Officer Cutter leans closer. "But that is when your stories diverge."

"So I gather," Brian says caustically.

"Raped anyone in your life, Mr. Morton? Perhaps you were under the influence of alcohol. But Ms. Faulkner managed to escape. She made her way downstairs."

Officer Cutter starts the video again. This time, the time clock on the little left hand corner at the bottom of the screen displays 10.29 p.m. The camera is trained at the elevator doors. They open and a disheveled Delilah, wet green dress askew, stumbles out.

Brian's stomach turns.

What has he done to her?

"The doorman spotted her, asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn't say anything to him. She made her way to her car parked in the basement. She drove straight to the hospital. A statement from the medical report suggests that she has indeed been traumatized with signs of forced penetration, both vaginally and anally. Sperm samples have been taken from both orifices."

Brian freezes. He has had anal sex with women before, but it was always because they begged him to fuck them in the ass. This can't be happening. It simply can't. He has never taken a woman against her will, no matter how drunk or high or stoned he has been. He never had to. They all flocked to him like rabbits to a carrot patch.

"Right after that, she came to us, the police."

"My client doesn't remember anything of what you have read from Ms. Faulkner's case notes, Officer," Karen says. "He passed out."

Brian closes his eyes. "I didn't rape her. I didn't do anything to her that she didn't want me to. And as I remembered it, her words and body language suggested very much that she wanted me."

Then why isn't he as sure as he should be? The doubts are creeping in. What is he really like when he's under the influence? Is he so sure he wouldn't turn violent like his father?

He's frightened, but not because of what might happen to him. He's terrified because he's suddenly afraid of who he really is.

His father all over again.

Oh God.