* * *
My eyes sting as I ride the lift to my floor and walk with weightless legs to my room. In his suite, it was less what he said and more the look on his face: years of torture, abuse and anguish. Now, the enormity of what he told me is sinking in. Gregory had a sister. His father repeatedly raped her, beat Lara, beat him. He was helpless.
The weighted door to my room bangs heavily behind me and I fight back tears as I grab the silk shorts and cami that have been folded on my pillow. I suddenly have no energy and slump onto the end of the bed. Then like a raging storm, pain strikes my abdomen. I see his face, see him kneeling in front of me. Thirty years of torment flood my mind and the lump I’ve been fighting in my throat bursts. With a yelp, my tears come and I cry into my hands. The onslaught is uncontrollable.
How can a human being do that to another? How can afatherdo that to his daughter, his son, his wife?
And he saw. He saw it all.
He felt every blow.
His own father stabbing his back with a serrated bottle.
He was only a boy.
I strip down and climb into the shower, desperate to wash away everything I’ve heard, wishing I could do that for Gregory. I’ve left him there, alone.
But the pain he caused me.I slide down the wall and sit on the floor of the shower, my knees pulled into my chest, and let my tears fall. He can’t undo the past, not Pearson, not Elsa, not bribes and not the deceitful way he got me to Dubai. But now I at least understandwhy. As perverse as it might seem, he bribed the CPS for us, for me, so that a gun wouldn’t be the reason I went to prison if the murder charge disappeared. And as much as I hate him for sending me here, he thought he was protecting me. He was afraid to love me, to hurt us both.
I get out of the shower and dry my body, then my hair, staring at myself in the mirror.This isn’t me.How could I walk away from him when he needs me?
I love him.
I slip into my nightwear and wrap the hotel’s white towel robe around me and head back to Gregory’s suite.
My heart and head are heavy again by the time I reach his door. I have to put my own thoughts aside. With a deep breath, I lengthen my spine and knock.
He answers the door with a towel around his waist, wet hair and a glass of Pinot Noir in his hand. As inappropriate as it might be, my sex twinges and my mouth dries.
‘You came back.’ His voice is stronger now but he’s still not my intense, sexy billionaire CEO. He steps away from the door for me to come in. ‘Would you like wine?’
‘Yes, please.’
I curl my feet under me in the corner of the L-shape sofa. Gregory hands me a glass of Pinot Noir then hesitates before sliding down to the sofa next to me, his bare chest just inches from my arm. I swallow as subtly as my rising temperature and pounding heart will allow and thank God for the white wool keeping my skin from his.
‘Tell me about her. Tell me about Elsa.’
He drains his glass and leans forward to pour another, then settles back, resting his elbow on the back of the sofa, his head close to mine.
‘She had long, dark hair, like yours. Big, brown eyes. She loved to read. She was always reading. She would tell me about her books and pretend…’ he shakes his head, ‘…pretend she was one of the characters, living someone else’s life.’
‘Did she have a favourite?’
He shrugs. ‘I wish I knew. There are so many things I didn’t listen to or that I’ve forgotten. I wish I could remember the good things but all my memories are tainted. I can’t think of her without seeing him and what he did. I want to remember how happy she was when we were away from him.’
Instinctively, I stroke his cheek. He swallows, his lips parted slightly, and I take my hand back.
‘She had this doll. A rag doll. She used to pretend she was feeding it. Christ, what was it called? I can’t remember its name. She took it everywhere. Before— before things changed.’
‘For what it’s worth, Gregory, I’m sorry. More sorry than I can put into words. But I’m pleased you told me. I’m glad you trust me.’
His gaze falls to my lips. I close my eyes and sip my wine.
‘Tell me there’s a chance, Scarlett. Not tonight. Not now. Just a chance.’
I take a sharp breath when my lungs cry out. ‘There’s a chance.’
He reaches a palm towards my face and I want to feel his touch but I whisper, ‘Don’t.’
