I smiled. “You did very well. Although the piece on sexual abuse surprised me.”
“I asked Rhett’s thoughts on sexual abuse once, and he mentioned those things.”
“I’m impressed.” I was also a little wary. “How much did you tell Rhett?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “Not everything. He asked if I wanted to talk about what happened to me that prevented me from laughing or smiling. I told him I was abused.”
Rhett was a phenomenal barrister, and while part of me was glad she could talk to him, the other remained worried this might implicate her if anything came to light. I loved Rhett like a son, but I’d never place him in a predicament of my doing. I made a mental note to talk to him.
“And John Bobbitt?” That shocked me, yet not as much as her ordering and then watching Tahir cut off Andrew’s penis. I never saw that coming. Her calm was extraordinary.
She glanced out the window before her gaze returned to me, her brow puckered. “Levana’s aunt told me about it.”
Surprised, I frowned. “Levana’s aunt? Did you meet her?”
“No,” she replied quickly. “I spoke to her on the phone when Levana visited.”
My thoughts in a sudden whirlwind, I rubbed a finger along my bottom lip, studying her pensive features before I asked, “is that how you got the idea for the castration?” I asked cautiously, not wanting her to believe she’d done anything wrong.
“He deserved it,” she said quietly, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt.
“He did.”
“I’m sorry I deviated a little when I asked you to release Kabir so I could have him walk me down to the green room.” She changed the subject, picking up my hand to kiss the back.
Smiling, I didn’t push her on the castration, hoping her evasion was her putting it behind her. “You were perfect.” I squeezed her hand, and she beamed.
We’d planned everything we’d done last night except for three things—her request to have Kabir released, Andrew’s castration, and Andrew’s divulgence about Tahir’s twin being the fourth man—someone who possibly had a vendetta against me.
Now, I had that to worry about and one other aspect—Mikaela’s age. I had to know.
After we climbed out of the van, Mikaela went to chat with Beth and Zarina, whom Mikaela had forgiven for her part in this whole debacle. Zarina was glad her son was safe and delighted to build her life again.
“Luke, a minute, please.” He stood chatting to Wilkes and Ramone.
He followed me to the back of the van. “Yes, sir?”
Unsure why I felt the sudden tightening of my chest, I took a step forward, forcing calm into my body. “How old is Mikaela?”
He let out a low sigh and looked at Mikaela, talking to Beth. “I might’ve spent just a few days with you two to know she’s extremely happy. You’ve given her everything she’s dreamed about. You’ve given her a smile, a laugh, and the tears she refused to shed for him. Don’t let her age come between you two, sir.” His words surprised me.
Was that the insecurity I was allowing to cloud my relationship with her?
“You don’t think she deserves more? To experience what’s on the other side of these castle walls?” I ignored my cowardice once more.
“Andyoucan’t show her that?” His smile apologetic, he quickly added, “I didn’t mean to be rude, sir.”
I waved it aside with a smile. “I prefer honesty. Luke.” I glanced at Mikaela over my shoulder. “I just think that after everything she’s been through, living her entire life knowing just one man, one room, and one way of life. Then, meeting me and living here. She must find out for herself what she deserves, desires and decides about her future. I’m afraid, staying with me, she’ll conform instead of indulge.”
“Sir, what that girl went through, it’s a miracle she’s here today, breathing. While I disagree with letting her go, you’ve had her best interest at heart since the day you saved her.” He fingered the wedding band on his hand before looking at me again. “My daughter is safe because of you, and I’m truly grateful for that, but let her down gently.” He tipped his chin at Mikaela. “She’s a brilliant woman who hasn’t come into her own yet, and maybe allowing her to choose a future for herself is the right thing to do. Maybe it’s not.” He shrugged, then turned to walk away. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder. “She’s twenty-four, born on Christmas Day. If only her arrival had the same significance as the great lord himself instead of what she endured.” He walked away.
“Twenty-four,” I softly repeated, staring at his back, my mind and heart on a bender likely to tip emotions I was barely holding together. Over the last few months, while filled with a traumatic experience I never thought possible for her, I hadn’t anticipated my feelings for this woman to escalate this deeply. Logic asked that I be fair to her inexperience in life. My heart crashed that theory, demanding I accept the affection I craved with her.
Still, if life taught me anything, it was never to accept something easily handed to me on a silver platter, even if it were shattered. She’d crossed my path in a peculiar manner, traumatized and broken. While I’d helped her through it, I’d selfishly taken payment from her. I’d touched and made her mine. Laying claim to her forever would make me as perverted as Kabir’s stake on her.
At twenty-four, she deserved so much more than ownership, even if it came with the sacrifice of my love.
