She shook her head. “I didn’t know that.”
“Why would you?”
“I guess if I had my phone I could have googled you.”
Icy panic dredged through him. If she had her phone and googled him she would have very quickly seen that his father had been incarcerated for murder and from there, a few clicks would have shown that her father had been the presiding judge.
He blinked his eyes closed and thanked the heavens for whatever stroke of luck had led to her forgetting her phone.
“Don’t google me,” he said, his voice thick. “I will answer any question you ask. I would prefer you to speak to me rather than read about me.”
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Why? Would I see something on the internet you wouldn’t like?”
“Anyone in my position has things on the internet about them that are simply not true.” He took a step forward, moving them nearer to the tangle of rose bushes. They were a mess. “My mother loved the rose garden; or so my father said. He used to take a tremendous amount of pride in maintaining it for her.” He sighed roughly. “He would hate to know it was like this.”
“Why don’t you hire someone to maintain the house and garden?” She asked, following his gaze into the garden. Her heart was beating fast; her head was spinning. Had they just been arguing? And if so, what about?
“It never occurred to me,” he said after a beat had passed. “I should though. You’re right.”
His quick agreement pleased her. She wrapped the words up and clutched them to her soul.
“You said last night that you haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Why not?” He asked, linking his fingers to hers and pulling her gently towards him. He pressed a kiss against her soft hair and he felt the answering thudding in her heart.
She closed her eyes and breathed in every detail of his nearness. “I haven’t been bought before.” Her words were an attempt at lightness. They didn’t succeed.
“That has no bearing on why you slept with me.”
“No,” she agreed. “If I hadn’t wanted you too I would have slapped you right across that gorgeous face for even suggesting such a thing.”
“You are a very sensual woman. I find it hard to believe you suppressed that side of yourself.”
“You’re the first man to ever think so,” she said, wondering at the kernel ofshame that rolled through her. “Until I met you, I honestly thought I was some kind of prude.”
“You must be kidding,” he remarked, pulling back so that he could stare down into her eyes. It was a mistake. They were his eyes. Benedetto pulled her roughly against his chest, pressing his chin lightly against the top of her head.
“No,” she stroked his back. “My first time was …” she cleared her throat. “Is this weird to talk about?”
“Not at all,” he assured her, though he instinctively hated the thought of her having slept with others before him.
“My first time was with my boyfriend. I was eighteen. It was the most uncomfortable and simultaneously boring experience of my life. I remember lying there thinking: is this all sex is? Is that what all the fuss is about? I found out about a year ago that he’s gay. I guess that explains the lack of chemistry, maybe.” Her smile was wistful.
“That’s it?” He had no choice now but to look down on her.
She shrugged. “No. There was another guy.” Something like fear whispered across her features once more. “I liked him.” Jealousy, unmistakable, barbed in his gut. “He worked for my dad, so I’d known him for years.” She cleared her throat. “It should never have happened. I knew it would be … I knew my dad … it should never have happened.”
Benedetto processed the information she had given him, and the information she hadn’t known she was giving him. “Your father didn’t approve.”
She shook her head, as she remembered the expression on Augstine’s face when she’d revealed she was in a relationship with Connor.
“You will end it, or you will be sorry.”
“I don’t want to end it. I like him, and he likes me.”
“You will end it, Katherine.”
“No.”
She shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. It had been foolhardy and futile from the beginning to hope she could change his mind. She’d had to wear jackets for three weeks, despite the heat of the summer, to cover the bruises on her arms.
