“I’m not going to upend my life, come and stay with you, and get even more addicted to you, and this, if you could decide one morning that it no longer suits you and ask me to leave.” She shuddered. “I’m just being honest with you, Benedetto. It would break my heart.”
Her statement caused him a flash of wariness. “Our hearts are not involved,cara.”
“Yours might not be,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m not like you.”
Responsibility, guilt and regret jostled through him for priority. His soul was heavy with all. “You need to be.”
A laugh escaped her, but it was lacking in humour. “Oh, okay,” she shrugged sarcastically. “Just wait while I flick a switch and … yep. I’m done.” She did her best to assume his accent. “I am now ready for the meaningless sex to be continuing.”
He laughed despite himself. “I do not sound like that.”
She arched a brow. “Yes, you do. Sort of.” The cold Autumnal sun crested over the neighbouring building and blinded her with its milky brightness. She squinted with relief; her eyes were stinging anyway. “You should go.”
His nostrils flared as he expelled an angry breath. “I want you to be with me.”
“I know.” She swallowed past the bitterness of pain. “But sooner or later you’ll want me to go. And I don’t want to spend the next however long waiting for that.”
“You cannot live your life thinking of death,” he responded tautly. “It is an old adage my grandfather taught me. You cannot ever enjoy life if you’re always scouting for the end on the horizon. Why can you not simply enjoy this for now?”
Her smile was wistful. “I like that.You cannot live your life thinking of death.But that wouldn’t work for me.” Her delicate throat knotted as she swallowed to keep her emotions at bay. How many times had she been forced to contemplate death? As if to recall the worst of her pains, she lifted a finger to her temples and felt the small scar there. She’d passed out after the fifth blow. She remembered, because she’d counted, as each press of the empty wine bottle had crushed against her. “I know this place doesn’t look like much, but to me, it’s perfect. I’m free here.”
It was a curious turn of phrase. “When have you not been free?” He pushed thoughtfully.
“That doesn’t matter. The point is, here I am free and I am happy and I think … I can see a time when you could make me more miserable than I’ve ever been.”
“So you are saying no to what we share simply because it will end at some point?”
“You’re the one who said it was time to get back to reality. Well, this is it for me.”
“I’ve changed my mind. You can’t stay here. You must come with me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that easy. Being back here reminds me of who I am. These last couple of days have been a fantasy. A wonderful, crazy, erotic fantasy. Butnot real life. I … I’ve learned that I have to be … careful. About who I trust.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I’d trust you with my life,” she promised truthfully. “But not my heart.” And after two short days, she already understood how much of it he possessed.
CHAPTER SIX
She awoke with a start somewhere around four in the morning. She was drenched with sweat despite the coolness of the night. Her blonde hair was plastered to her brow and her heart was hammering like a jackal crossing the desert. There was something in the air that night that had made her dream of him.
Her father.
She tasted metal in her mouth and from experience she knew it to be fear and adrenalin. She pushed up from the bed, every single nerve ending trained on her surrounds. Her eyes, even in the dim light cast by the pale, cloud-wrapped moon, sought out shapes in her bedroom. Her coat rack. Her clothes. Her door. The picture on the wall of her best friend.
Usually, Emma’s face brought a smile to Kate’s. But not now. How long had it been since their last chat? Weeks. They had to be careful. Emma was the only person from Kate’s old life she’d dared stay in touch with. It was a red herring; one she couldn’t give due consideration to in that fear-charged moment.
She sat perfectly still, listening, waiting for her heart to stop racing so that she could hear something other than the torrent of her pounding blood.
It was Benedetto that had done this. He’d made her feel vulnerable. And for some reason, being with him had made her think of her past.
He was nothing like her father, and yet he was. He was dominant, though in a wholly different way. He was powerful and successful, and both men had achieved that through sheer intelligence and hard work. But it was not for their similarities that she brought Augustine to Kate’s mind.
It was for their differences.
With Benedetto she had felt safe. She had felt fearless and empowered. Even though he was strong and physically dominant, and he had dominated her physically, it had never once entered her mind to fear that he might use his power and strength to diminish hers. If anything, he’d felt like a magnifying glass to her own inherent character. Allthat was good in herself had seemed larger and more obvious with him.
A noise sounded from the kitchen and her heart began to pound once more. Her eyes darted to the bedside table. Was that knife still there? She’d put it in the drawer after the break in.
