Damn, he’d taken her like a man possessed. He felt her shiver as he eased himself free, the tight clasp of her sex releasing him with difficulty.
Had he hurt her? He must have done. The shame washed over him as he tugged up his sweats, rearranged the long T-shirt she wore to cover her nakedness, then pulled her into his arms.
They lay like that, together on the couch, for what felt like an eternity. The feel of her in his arms—soft, sated—the only thing that would settle his thundering heartbeat.
What did he say to make this right?
‘I’m sorry…’ he murmured.
She glanced up at him, her hands covering his where they were anchored to her waist.
‘What are you apologising for?’ she asked, that pure emerald gaze wide with confusion.
Wasn’t it obvious?
He’d let emotions get the better of him. Emotions he’d had on lockdown ever since he was a kid. The terror, of not knowing where his brother was, whether they could ever be safe. All those fears he’d thought he had discarded—on his way to the top. Thefears that had become ever more distant over the years, after they’d bought their first tugboat, their first container ship, when Caras Brothers had earned its first million in turnover, its first billion. All those fears he had believed once conquered had made him stronger and more secure—until the second he’d woken up alone again. And suddenly he’d come face to face with the fact that those fears had never really left him, they’d just been waiting for him to need someone again.
And now Freya had seen that frightened kid, instead of the man. But how could he explain any of that, without exposing himself more?
He shifted, to press his palm to her cheek, trying to lock away those fears again, back where they belonged.
This wasn’t about Freya, it couldn’t be. They hardly knew each other… This was just the result of indulging himself with her—more than he ever had with any other woman. Because of some kind of pheromone addiction.
‘For being a jerk, earlier,’ he said. ‘You can leave the house if you want…’ He huffed, the panic strangling him again. ‘Just let me know where you are.’
She nodded, but her continued scrutiny made him feel transparent.
‘You looked terrified, Theo,’ she said, seeing right through his explanation. ‘I’m sorry I caused that, however inadvertently. What happened to you?’
He knew exactly what she was asking him. But the explanation was buried in his past, the past he had escaped from a long time ago. It didn’t have anything to do with her, not really.
So why was he so scared to admit it?
He shrugged, lifting her off his lap, so he could swing his legs off the couch and plant his bare feet on the floor. He didn’t have to hold her, to steady himself, that was all in his head.
He didn’t need anyone. Not any more. Not even his brother, Xander. Perhaps talking about that terrified boy would lock the irrational fear back into his psyche—where it belonged—so those memories could never mess with him again.
‘When Xander and I were still kids our father abandoned us. One day he was there, the next he wasn’t.’ He cleared his throat, his ribs suddenly tight. ‘Our mother died when I was a baby. Xander remembers her. Not me. And our old man couldn’t cope. He drank too much, couldn’t hold down a job. His disappearance caused problems though, because Xander was only twelve—and we had no one else.’
‘Theo, th-that’s awful…’ Her eyes became so large in her face he felt as if he were drowning in them, the compassion deepening the mossy green to a rich emerald—but the sheen of tears shocked him. ‘How did you cope?’ she asked. ‘If you were all alone?’
‘Hey, it wasn’t that bad.’ He brushed his thumb under her eye, scooped up the errant tear, his heart faltering. ‘We were much better off without him. We would never have built the business, if we hadn’t been forced to find a way out.’ He breathed, not liking the emotions tearing at his chest. Not wanting to feel anything this deeply. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘I’m crying for that little boy, because I know what it’s like to lose a parent. My mother ran off with her lover when I was about the same age as Xander.’ She pressed her fist against her chest, her gaze misty with sadness and sympathy… A sympathy he knew he didn’t deserve. ‘We never saw her again. She didn’t even ask for visitation rights. She wrote me a letter just before she died. And I’ve never been able to open it, because that feeling of betrayal has never left me. I’m still angry with her. How could she love us, and leave us like that? I never understood it. And even though I know, rationally, that what she did wasn’t my fault, deep down I’m not sure you can ever stop feelingas if you’re not enough. Because how else do you explain how someone you loved and needed didn’t want you?’
He could imagine her as a little girl, so fierce, so honest, so willing to blame herself for something that was not her fault. The thought of that kid crucified him, but he knew their experiences weren’t the same.
He wrapped his hand around her fist, lifted her clenched fingers to his lips and kissed the knuckles. ‘I hate that she did that to you, Freya,’ he said. The unfamiliar empathy turned his guts to mush again. ‘But don’t confuse me with someone who deserves your sympathy. I was glad he left us. I never loved him. If anything, I feared him. He was a drunk and a bully. And once he was gone, I used his disappearance to do whatever the hell I wanted.’ He let out a rusty chuckle, remembering that boy now not as the scared skinny kid hiding in a corner, but the thief he had become. ‘I lied and cheated and stole anything I could lay my hands on.’
‘You were doing what you had to do to survive,’ she remarked, her passionate defence of that little bastard impossibly endearing. But also hopelessly misguided.
He choked out a laugh as the pressure in his chest eased, charmed by her innocent determination to see the best in him, when he knew how bad he’d been.
‘Yeah, that’s what I told myself. But the truth is I also enjoyed it. I was addicted to the adrenaline rush of scoping out tourists and picking a victim. I loved the challenge of lifting their wallets without them feeling a thing. It wasn’t long before I graduated from being a street thief to a cat burglar. I was agile and fearless, and I convinced myself I deserved everything I wanted, without having to earn it. An elderly American tourist gave me twenty euros while I was outside her hotel one day—because she thought I was begging. That night I climbed into her room and stole her wedding ring right off her finger.’
He’d given it back a couple of nights later, after a brutal beating from his fence had clued Xander into what Theo was doing—and his brother had made him give up his life of crime, aged eleven. But how did that absolve him when he’d had no qualms about stealing that ring in the first place? His fence had deemed the ring worthless, hence the beating, but it must have been so precious to her. But he’d taken it anyway, all because he’d resented that sweet old lady for taking pity on him.
‘Don’t make excuses for that boy,’ he said, cupping her cheek, hooking the unruly hair behind her ear. ‘He was a little shit.’
