Maybe even three years.
At the thought of those three years, he quickly sobered.
“If you wanted me, explain to me why you always treated me so coldly—hell, Gideon, you only ever had a civil conversation with me whenIinitiated it, and even then, you were slightly buzzed from whatever you were drinking that night or the orgasm you just had. I can’t tell you how many times I went to bed crying because my husband only ever saw me as a person when he was drunk or had just nutted.”
Shaking his head violently, he exclaimed, “I was an asshole, no doubt about that, and I am so fucking sorry for how I’ve treated you over the years. I was at fault for everything wrong in our marriage, and I admit that. You were always the brightest part of my darkest days, baby,” he rasped, cupping her face.
She was crying again, the tear slowly gliding down her face. He wiped them away, gently, reverently.
“So many times I wanted to open my mouth and ask you about your day, just to hear your voice. So many times I wanted to call you just to hear you breathe on the line—even when I was sitting in a board meeting. Do you know how hard it is to go on a business trip and miss you so much that everywhere I look I see something I want to get for you or talk to you about or experience with you?”
She pinched her lips, frustration framing her mouth. “So why didn’t you, Gideon? Why was the only trip we ever took ourhoneymoon? If you wanted to take me places, buy me things, and experience these things with me, why didn’t you? You have the power, the money, the opportunity, so why did I fall through the cracks with you?”
Heaving a sigh, he leaned back until he was propped against the arm of the couch, pulling her with him so she was reclining on his chest.
She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t come easy, either; she was tense, coiling to spring up and make another run for it, but he’d catch her. He always would.
“In the beginning, I was drawing a distinct line between us, determined not to let you cross it—you were basically a stranger to me, an outsider that I’d invited in, only so far, and I didn’t trust you. You’re smart, you know that men of my stature are targets for those who’d wish me and my family ill, or they want my money or my contacts or my resources.”
“Yes, but Gideon, you came tome,youpursuedme—what had I ever done to make you think I was out to get you?” Kendra inquired, her tone telling him she was completely flummoxed.
“It was never about you, baby, it was me—after my childhood, the struggles to keep Maddox from collapsing, and doing all the things I did to protect my brothers…I learned hard lessons about trust. No, you never did anything to lose my trust, but in the very beginning, you hadn’t earned it, either,” he admitted, the words coming easier, smoother and yet more anxious the more he spoke, like he was letting the air out of a balloon…hoping it didn’t burst.
Kendra hummed, nodding thoughtfully. “I can understand that….” She met his gaze, questions and pain swirling, and asked, “But what about later? Why didn’t you ever let me in, Gideon? I would think that after a full year, two years, three years, you’d know whether you could trust me, whether I was worthy of Gideon Maddox’s trust.”
Swallowing thickly, he replied, “By the second year, it wasn’t about trust anymore….”
He nearly moaned when his warm, caring wife placed her hand on his cheek—she could sense the struggle, the battle within him—man and beast—fighting for survival.
“What was it, Gideon?” she inquired, her voice soft. “Why can’t you let me in?”
Sucking in a breath, he filled his chest to bursting and held it, willing the nausea away even as the bile surged in his throat.
For a man as powerful and dangerous as Gideon Maddox, in that moment, he was nothing.
Chapter Thirteen
When she’d walked out of the home she shared with Gideon that night, what felt like a million years ago, she never expected what unfolded.
He’d chased her; not only that, but he’d also caught her, and then he’d opened up to her in a way she never thought possible.
She’d learned things about him as a child she only ever speculated about—she and Cora knew the basics, had chatted about it quietly at family dinners, but Kendra had never known the true extent of the trauma that had shaped a young Gideon Maddox into the formidable, cold, decisive man he’d become.
Abandoned by his mother during the most important years of his life, left to raise his three younger brothers under the pressure and cruel ridicule of a heartless father, and then expected to shoulder the responsibility of keeping the Maddox empire afloat and grow it into the juggernaut it was today…daunting to even think about. But Gideon had lived it, he’d conquered every hurdle in his life with a chilly precision that made everyone bow to him.
But under all those tailored suits, expensive watches, calculated risks, untold rewards, and the unspeakable power…was a little boy who’d lost his mother and was forced into a role he wasn’t ready for.
Oh Lord, the mother in her was weeping for that little boy, the woman in her was proud of the man her husband had become through his own hard work and determination. The neglected, manipulated, heartbroken wife…well, she was still pissed, but she was listening.
She was sitting in his lap, her chest against his, her hands on his face, and—even after three years of marriage—she’d never been in that position before.
She liked it…a little too much.
Unless it would lead to sex, she and Gideon never…snuggled. She’d lean against him in the car on the way back from an event because she was exhausted and he had the best shoulders. He’d wrap his arm around her in public—that whole wholesome couple image he wanted to portray on display for the cameras. She’d put her legs over his when they were both in the informal living relaxing—a rare occurrence—her with her books or streaming binges, and him with his bourbon and Brazilian jazz.
But never, not once, had he ever initiated close, intimate, non-sexual contact.
Something inside her…smoothed out, like a once vibrant rose, savagely crushed in his hands, but now slowly blooming, it’s devastated petals healing, quietly unfurling. Not yet fully vibrant again, but the potential was there.
