By the time Theo has peeled the bandage away entirely, I’m transfixed by what is before me, elegantly scrolled across his pec. I read it again and again, my fingertips resting on my lips, like they might prevent me from breathing out my surprise. Of course, they don’t, and I release a loud, shaky breath. “Theo…” I trail off, unable to find any words beyond his name.
He moves forward on his knees and takes my hand from my mouth, placing it on his chest. My touch slips across his slick skin and over the gray letters. “Read it to me,” he whispers, encouraging me to feel, holding my wrist in place as my fingers dance across the lengths of script. “Read it to me, Izzy.”
I look up at him through my lashes, stunned by what he’s done. “Why?” I ask. “Why did you do this?”
“Just read it.”
I look back down to his chest, my hand now covering part of the text, and flex my fingers until he allows me to remove my touch. And I read to myself.
My love for her holds me prisoner.
Her faith leaves me in awe.
Her hope encourages mine.
And her touch reaches my soul.
She is my peace.
My cure.
My love.
I flick my eyes up to his face as I try to push back the growing lump. “What is this?”
“Read it to me. I want to hear you read it.”
I don’t need to look back down at his chest. Those seven lines are branded on my mind and heart. My soul. “My love for her holds me prisoner.” I swallow, breathing through my task. “Her faith leaves me in awe.” I close my eyes, my heart pulsing in my ears. “Her hope encourages mine,” I whisper, forcing my lids to open. He nods, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it softly. I look down to his pec, my bottom lip quivering uncontrollably as I force myself to go on. “And her touch reaches my soul.” I clench my teeth together, the words becoming distorted through my tears.
He’s suddenly moving, taking my hands in his and tugging me closer. “She is my peace,” Theo continues for me. “My cure.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, so very gently. “My love. Do you understand, Izzy?” he asks, searching my welling eyes. “Do you realize how I feel about you?”
I stare at him as he stares at me, unwavering.
He swallows. “Everything I do is because I am in love with you. Not because I’m a fucking madman. Not because I thrive on violence. It’s because I fucking love you.”
I’m shocked into silence and stillness. And I can’t breathe.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” he whispers, collecting air. It’s a good thing he’s not expecting me to speak, because I’m incapable. I’m at a loss. Stunned. He clamps his eyes closed for the briefest of seconds, though I expect in the short space of time that they’re hidden from me, he collects a lifetime’s worth of courage. He sighs, like it’s a burden, and I will my body to relax in his hold, but I’m too damn shocked. “I just feel like you should have some warning.”
I find my voice, his choice of words helping me. “Warning?” Like it could be dangerous for Theo to love me?
“I don’t think you’ll find my love easy to accept,” he murmurs sadly. “I think you’ll find it overbearing and suffocating.”
I hesitate for a beat. “Why?”
“Because my instinct is telling me to hide you from the world and devote my life to keeping you safe.” He watches me, gauging my reaction. I hope he’s not disappointed. I smile, and my body goes lax, and my heart skips a beat. Those words are golden, probably the most reassuring thing he could ever say to me.
“I’ve already accepted it,” I tell him quietly, straight-faced and cool. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you, too.” His eyes widen as I swallow down the ball of emotion growing in my throat.
“I told you I didn’t expect you to say anything.”
“You need to know.” I move forward, showing him my hands. He nods, and I place them gently on his muscled torso. He sucks in air and holds it, and I look up at him, finding him watching my hands as they glide over the finely tuned planes of his chest. “I feel like you should have some warning.” I mirror his words quietly, and his eyes shoot to mine. I hold them. “Because I don’t think you’ll find my love easy to accept.” I say what I know to be true.
“Only because I don’t deserve it,” he whispers, resting his hands over mine. “You are a good person, Izzy.” He dips and places his forehead on mine. “I am not.”
I close my eyes and let that statement sink in. I know he lives on the wrong side of the law, and I also know that it won’t discourage me from loving him. To me, he is simply Theo. To me, he is comfort and love. I lift my hands from his chest and let him guide them over his shoulders, and then I move in, clinging to him tightly. I move my face to his neck, kissing it softly, my way of telling him I don’t care. Besides, I’m choosing to see Theo as a saint, not a sinner. He actually helps save lives. By using the scumbags as bargaining chips to his own advantage, he is, in fact, helping the women who fall victim to anger and beatings. How could I not support that?
“Izzy,” he breathes wearily. “I’m wired to charge when I feel threatened. It’s the way I’m built. It’s who I am. And that instinct has only grown stronger since I met you.”
I press my lips together and blink some clearness into my vision. Theo’s instinct is to fight under threat. To eliminate the danger. I cup his stubbled cheek, and he closes his eyes, nuzzling into my touch. “I understand.”
“I realize that the best thing I can do when you’re upset or distressed is to get you away from the cause. Not add to it. It might just take me a while to train myself.”
I smile sadly, fully comprehending how much it takes for him to not only admit it, but actually do it. “I need to keep you,” I say, leaning in and resting my mouth on his. “I need to know you’re not going to do something silly and give reason for someone to take you away from me.”
“Oh Jesus, Izzy.” He pushes his lips to mine and swallows me up in his kiss, holding me so tightly in his strong, safe arms. “I’m not worthy of your patience, your compassion, or your bravery to take me on.”
I hush him and embrace him, and he falls to his back, taking me with him. Resting my cheek on his shoulder, I stare across the vast expanse of his chest, reading the words he’s had emblazoned there. All of them are so profound, but one line I read over and over again.
My love for her love holds me prisoner.
I reach across to place my finger on the start of the words, smiling when Theo’s hand catches mine before my touch meets his skin. I wait for him to lower my hand to his chest, and then I ghost across the script slowly. And I wonder, does Theo realize that his love makes me feel free? With Theo in my present, I know my past can’t touch me.
Chapter 21
It’s only been three days since I was asked to leave the hospital, and despite Theo keeping me busy, I feel like I’m slowly going out of my mind. I’ve had three days off before; it’s not alien, but the knowledge that I can’t return to work makes this stretch different. My job might be waiting for me, but I can’t go back. Not after everything that has happened.
I’ve researched positions throughout many of the London hospitals, and while there are plenty of vacancies to apply for, and I’ll apparently have a glowing reference from Susan, I’m stalling. I don’t know why. I feel safe with Theo, but vulnerable without my job. I feel comforted by his presence in my life, but anxious about depending on him too much. It’s all confusing and very conflicting.
As I suspected, the police haven’t been in touch. I asked Jess to drop off a letter of resignation yesterday and a letter of apology to Susan. I don’t expect it to make any difference, but I wanted her to know how sorry I am for what happened. I also asked Jess to check up on Mable. The dear old lady told her to tell me that the pain is still a five and her hip replacement went well. It brought a smile to my face.
I’ve also been reassured that Percy’s son has been…how did Theo put it? Taken c
are of. I balked when he told me that, and he saw it, smiling as he explained that there was no more damage for him to do, even if he wanted to. Apparently, the man caved under the pressure of Theo and Callum’s ominous presence and confessed his injuries were the result of a run-in with some unsavory types he owed money to. I expect he had a gun held at his temple while he confessed.
Thankfully, Theo hasn’t pressed me any more on my little episode at Stan’s tattoo studio, and I chose not to mention it to Jess, either. Almost as if not talking about it means it never happened, which is just the way I want it.
As I wander into the kitchen, Jess looks up from her coffee, her eyebrows bunched. “It’s seven in the morning, Izzy.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” I set about making my own coffee.
“Did you apply for any of the positions I forwarded to you?” she asks as she taps away at her phone.
“No.” Not one of the jobs I looked at yesterday morning compared to my previous position. I realize beggars can’t be choosers, but still. I stop myself thinking that I shouldn’t be in this position, because it has me momentarily cursing Theo to hell and back again.
“What about the nurse bank?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I say to appease her, splashing milk into my mug. I turn, armed with my coffee, and give her a wry smile. “How’s Callum? Any more puddle-induced orgasms?” I hide my grin behind the rim of my mug as I take a sip.
“You’re fucking hilarious.” She gets up and swills her mug under the tap. “I’ve not seen nor heard from him.”
“Disappointed?” I ask as she slowly turns toward me, resting her weight on her hip.
“No. I die every time I think about the other night.” Jess grabs her bag and heads for the door. “What are you up to today?” she calls over her shoulder.
There’s only one thing I have planned for today, and I’m not sure whether I’m happy or worried about it. “I have a date with Theo’s mother.”
She skids to a stop and looks back at me. “Bonding?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. When she called me yesterday, at first I thought maybe Theo had asked her to offer, if only to keep me busy for a few hours. Then I wondered if she genuinely wants to get to know me. Or bond, as Jess said. I’ve only been in the woman’s company briefly, and on few occasions, but I like her. That’s not to say I haven’t detected the tough streak she has hidden under all that Chanel.
“Well, good luck.” Jess interrupts my thoughts and carries on her way. “I get off at six. I’ll call you.” The door slams and I look around the quiet kitchen, cursing myself for not taking Theo up on his offer to stay with him last night. Because right now, instead of standing lonely in my empty apartment, I’d be snuggled into his side, warm and content.
As I make my way to the bathroom to shower, my phone rings, and Theo’s name on the screen chases away my discontent. “It’s like you know when I’m thinking about you,” I answer, flipping the shower on.
“I do. It’s all the time, right?” His voice is the answer to all my woes, and I smile as I strip down.
“Right. Where are you?”
“In my office. Bored. Wishing you were here. Do you miss me?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t lie. “Yes.”
“Should have stayed last night,” he grumbles. “And the night before.”
“I can’t stay at your place every night.”
“Why?”
I dump my pajamas in the laundry basket and pull the clip from my hair. “Because I have my own place to stay at.”
“That’s not a reason. Tonight, you’re staying here.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“You do.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I laugh a little at his sureness.
“I have to go. I have things to do before I meet your mother.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry about that.” His apology tells me that this wasn’t Theo’s idea. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not. “She’s excited. I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
“Never?” I don’t know why I haven’t thought about this. “Ever?”
“Never, ever.”
I reach into the shower and feel the temperature of the water. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to be said. Have fun with my mother. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
He hangs up before I do, but as I place my phone on the vanity, it rings again. Theo. On a frown, I answer. “Hello.”
“I forgot to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Izzy?” He draws my name out, thoughtfully. Low. Gravelly.
I’m suddenly apprehensive. “What?”
“I love you.”
I deflate, laughing a little. “You had me worried.”
“You should be. I’m going to eat you alive later.” He hangs up again, and I’m left with that wonderful promise circling my mind as I shower.
* * *
I walk into the Langham Hotel just after five and head for the plush cocktail bar, spotting Judy across the bar sitting in the arched window seat as I enter.
“Izzy.” She smiles as she stands, arms reaching, beckoning me into her embrace. “How are you, darling?”
I let her hug me. “I’m well, thank you, Judy.”
“Very good.” She breaks away, holding me at arm’s length and smiling at me fondly, her rouge lips stretched wide, displaying beautiful teeth. She’s really quite a stunning woman. “Come, sit.”
We settle and the waitress approaches, handing me a piece of polished wood with a list of cocktails inscribed down the length of it. I smile my thanks and run my eyes down the list of luxury drinks.
“You should try this one.” Judy glides a perfectly polished fingernail down my menu. “It’s scrummy.”
I read her recommendation. You’re So Gangsta. I laugh, reading the hashtag next to it: #FeelingLikeABoss. I look up at her, and she winks on a small grin.
“I’m having Heaven Is for Sinners.”
My gaze drops to the menu again, finding the quirky hashtag for Judy’s choice. #FeelingMischievous. I smile, returning my attention to Theo’s mother as I place the menu down. “Why do I sense an ulterior meaning to your suggestion of what I should have to drink?”
“I love the height of the pedestal my son has placed you on,” she tells me, quite offhand, and with absolutely no bad feeling threaded through her statement. “It’s even higher than the one he has me on.” Judy gives me a coy smile, signaling the waitress and ordering our drinks.
When we’re alone again, I decide not to dance around but to ask her outright what’s playing on my mind. Because clearly something is. “Does that bother you?”
A small stretch of silence spreads across the table, not uncomfortable, but not particularly comfortable, either. She’s considering my question. I’ve already figured out that Judy is a bit of a lioness when it comes to Theo. She was the only woman in his life until I appeared on the scene. Or exploded, more like.
I wait, nervous, for Theo’s mum to give me her answer, not liking the thought of being in competition with her or vying for her son’s attention. She sighs and reaches over the table, taking my hand. “Izzy, darling girl, I only want to see him happy. You make him happy.”
“And if I upset him?” I ask, continuing with my strategy of being straight to the point.
“You already have, haven’t you?” She points a knowing look at me, gripping my hand when I try to pull it free, a little shocked that he’s obviously shared our little disagreement from the other day, when I refused to confide in him after my meltdown at Stan’s tattoo studio. “I’m not condemning you,” she says softly.
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to support you.”
She is? That’s strange, because I don’t feel very supported at the moment. I feel more threatened. “How?”
She sighs, releasing my hand and moving back to give the waitress room to
place our drinks on the table. I reach for the heavily engraved stem of my glass and slide it toward me, then lower my mouth to the short straw. I take a sip of the slushy cocktail but can’t fully appreciate the delicious taste when I’m feeling so apprehensive.
“Izzy, I see the way he looks at you,” Judy says. “The connection is so powerful, I can feel it myself.” She touches the breast pocket of her suit jacket. “Right here.” I look up at her, seeing nothing but genuine happiness in her gaze. “I’ve always held hope that he would one day let someone in, give someone a chance to love him like I do. But I doubted there was a woman out there strong enough to take him on. His club. His personality. His reputation.” She pauses and regards me across the table. “His phobia.”
“He’ll get better at that,” I say, feeling like I’m trying to reassure her. Is she questioning if I’m strong enough to handle Theo?
“I truly believe he will, Izzy. And you will never know how much comfort that gives me.”
“I think I do,” I reply quietly, glancing down at my glass. “Can I ask you something, Judy?”
“Anything.”
I look up at her. “His phobia—”
“Except that.” She cuts me off, a hand held up to support her stern words. “Ask me anything, but, like Theo, I never want to discuss that.”
I try to force my increasing curiosity back, but her inflexible tone makes it difficult. What on earth happened? “Okay,” I concede, not liking the sudden edge of sadness on her face.
“Like he hasn’t pushed you, you shouldn’t push him. It’ll drive him away, Izzy. Please don’t do that.”
“Okay,” I say again, feeling so very guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She looks almost haunted as she delicately lifts her glass to her lips, staring into her drink and taking what looks like a needed sip. But there is just one more thing I have to ask. I keep thinking about it, but haven’t plucked up the courage—or found the right time—to approach it with Theo. Maybe his mother would be best to discuss it with first. “Do you think Theo would benefit from therapy?”
Gentleman Sinner Page 25
