“Take your time,” he said, rubbing my arm.
“It wasn’t just the stalking or the jealousy. He would, um, if I didn't want to have sex or whatever, he would tell me that I was nothing but a tease and that no guy would want me. He said I wasn't worthy of a real man and that he could have any woman he wanted.” I squared my jaw. "He called me a pity fuck once."
The couch dipped as Alastair shifted his weight.
"You continued seeing him after he said that," he seethed.
"Do you want me to continue?"
Alastair ran both hands through his hair, looked at me and nodded.
"I had a pregnancy scare. I'm on birth control but at the time I was in the middle of switching the kind I used. I always made sure we were careful, but nothing is one hundred percent." I laced my fingers together. This is too hard.
Sensing my trepidation, he ran his knuckles over my cheek.
"When I told him, he got angry. He said I did it on purpose and wanted nothing to do with it or me," I paused, gulping. "We were standing in his kitchen. I was by the table and…and he came at me. It all happened so fast. He had me pinned against the wall. He was yelling and swearing. I tried to get away but he grabbed my arm and pushed me back against the wall. Then he—“ I stopped short, afraid I’d break down.
"Hey," Alastair said softly, cupping my chin. "Look at me."
What little emotional strength I had left was supported by his unwavering gaze.
"He was so angry," I continued.
"What happened?"
"He punched the wall next to my head." My voice shook. "His hand went right through it."
“I should have torn his head off that night,” Alastair snarled.
"Everything sort of moved in slow motion after that. He let go of me and started yelling that his hand was broken. I grabbed my bag and ran out. I don't remember getting into my car or driving away. The next thing I knew I was home." I shrugged and slumped into the cushion. Blood pounded in my ears.
"Was the gala the first time you'd seen him since that happened?"
“Yep.”
“Have you heard from him since then?”
Averting my eyes, I shook my head.
“Don’t keep things from me, Lia.”
Swallowing back a salty lump, I squeezed my hands together.
"He texted me a few times. That's it."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. Stupid stuff. It's not a big deal."
"I'd feel better if you changed your mobile number." He clenched his jaw.
"I'm not doing that.”
“You need to.”
The commanding tone he used pissed me off. Seriously? After what I just finished telling him?
“You need to cool it with the orders,” I snapped. “They’re just text messages. I can handle it.”
“I can’t keep you safe if he has a way to harass you.”
Raking my fingers through my hair, I leaned into the cushions. “I’m not in mortal danger. Stop being so dramatic.”
Letting out a short burst of air, he relented. “Fine. But if he so much as touches you—“
I pressed my finger to his mouth, cutting him off. I was tired. I was emotionally drained. I didn’t want to hear it.
“Leave it alone for now, please. I appreciate your concern. Scale it back a little. I’m sitting in a cavernous house in the English countryside. He can’t get me here.”
I still had my finger on his mouth but could see the wheels turning in his brain. Puckering his lips, he kissed it.
“You’re stubborn, Meyers.”
“I know. It’s part of my charm.”
“Hmm.” Tenting his fingers in front of his mouth, he grinned. “Go upstairs and change into your little pajamas, then meet me back here.”
“Why?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Just do it,” he insisted, standing up.
Ten minutes later, I was back in his childhood playroom, lounging on the couch in my PJs. Bored, I decided to explore a bit. There was a bookcase next to the media center. I checked out all the different titles. They were mostly reference books. One shelf was dedicated to photo albums. Dozens of them. The temptation to snatch a few off there and look through them was strong.
“There you are.”
I turned and saw Alastair standing at the door with his hands behind his back. A calculating grin was on his lips.
"Sit," he ordered, angling his head toward the couch. Doing as I was told, I narrowed my eyes at him.
"You're very bossy all of a sudden."
"Think so?" He grinned and knelt down in front of me. "Right foot please."
"Why?"
"No questions, kitten. Just give me your foot."
Holding onto my calf, he produced one of the crystal-encrusted heels he’d given me from behind his back. I stifled a laugh as he slipped it on my foot, thinking this was a weird Cinderella-esque moment. He wrapped his fingers around my left calf, lifted my leg and put the other shoe on my foot.
As pretty as they were, they looked silly sticking out the bottom of my pajama pants. Someone has a thing for high heels.
"Don't move. I mean it." He wagged a finger and walked to the media cabinet. I’d grown quite fond of his choice in sleepwear. Those cotton bottoms hugged his butt nicely.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked with a crooked smile. "Go stand by the windows. Please."
Mock saluting him, I stood nearest the windows in the corner of the room so I was surrounded by glass. Peering up, I marveled at the onyx sky dotted with stars.
Soft piano music filled the room.
"Ella Fitzgerald?" I asked, turning to see Alastair next to me. He nodded, sliding his hands around my waist.
"We still haven’t had a proper dance,” he said, pulling me close.
“The one at the fair doesn’t count?”
“Not technically. It was rather abrupt. No talking during this song. Listen to the words."
Swaying his hips to the music, he moved me with him. I melted into his embrace much more readily this time, although I was a little nervous I’d step on his feet with these heels. Snuggling against him, I smiled. The guy who didn’t ‘do’ relationships was a romantic at heart, and probably didn’t even realize it. Running my nails up his neck and through his hair, I let the lyrics to You Leave Me Breathless swirl through my heart.
As Ella's satiny voice crooned out to an unseen lover to give their lips to her, I tilted my head up. Alastair pulled our foreheads together. The same fire that burned through my belly when we danced at the fair ignited.
“I do feel safe with you,” I whispered.
Slanting his head, he sealed our mouths together. This would never get old for me; the sparks, the glorious mess my mind transformed into with every movement of his lips. He had me; body and soul.
“Upstairs. Now,” he moaned.
My clicking heels echoed through the massive expanse of the house as I walked with purpose across the marble floor and up the main staircase. We collapsed in a tangled heap on the bed, tearing each other’s clothes off. I didn’t even care how many pairs of underwear he ripped off me. I loved the way he made my mind scramble with just a touch. I loved the way he kissed every inch of me like I was a goddess. I loved the way he sounded when I kissed him and worshipped his body.
Listening to his labored breathing as we waited for our bodies to cool down, I accepted the realization that I was lost in his haze and didn’t want to be found.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"Good morning, Amelia."
I turned to see where the breezy, English accent was coming from. Katherine was standing by the entrance of the sitting room, smiling.
“Good morning,” I replied.
“It’s a beautiful photo, isn’t it?” she asked, standing next to me. I nodded.
“Alastair took it about five or six years ago when he was in Rome. He’d been walking around on his own and saw that little flower poking out from a pile of dirt near a renovation are
a by the Colosseum.” She smiled. “He’ll never admit it but my nephew has a soft spot for fragile beauty. Something about how unexpected and delicate it is draws him to it I suspect.”
“I never pegged him to have a soft spot for anything,” I said out loud without thinking.
“He does,” she smiled. “He’s making breakfast now. Come join me in the sunroom while you’re waiting.”
I followed Katherine past the main staircase and through the kitchen.
"No peeking, Meyers." Alastair grinned from the stove.
"Cheesy omelets again, Holden?" I teased.
His aunt waved me through a set of French doors. The sunroom was warm and cheery, even though the skies were gray and bleak. Baskets of hanging verbena and sweet peas hung from some of the windows, filling the room with a sweet, floral scent.
The view outside was unreal. It was pastoral. Mile after mile of rolling hills, green grass and trees reaching for the sky. If it wasn't for the imposing mansion I could have sworn I was in a small, secluded cottage. Like the one in Scotland.
"Would you like some tea?"
Katherine's voice broke into my reverie.
"Oh, sure. Thank you."
"Here. Have a seat. Breakfast will still be several minutes. My nephew is a perfectionist, in case you hadn't noticed."
There was a platter of scones sitting on the table, along with a bowl of fresh fruit.
"Help yourself to whatever you'd like, Amelia. I have to admit, the scones are rather delicious."
"Please, call me Lia."
I smiled, reaching for a scone. It was still warm to the touch. I broke it in half, spreading clotted cream and jam on each piece.
"You prepared that like you've lived over here for ages,” Katherine beamed.
"I've spent some time in London. When my sister moved there four years ago, I was volunteered to fly over and help her get settled in. Not that I minded. London is an amazing city."
"Alastair was still living in London at the time. Shame you two didn't bump into each other then." She tried to hide a sad smile with her teacup. My chest constricted. "But you know what they say, the timing is everything.”
Questions jumped and bounced against the walls of my brain. This was my chance to ask just about anything. If anyone knew Alastair inside and out, it would be his aunt.
"He's very taken with you, Lia."
I almost choked on the scone. Katherine smiled apologetically.
"I don't mean to embarrass you. But it's true.”
"He's very special to me."
Oh my God. I said that out loud.
"I know he is. I can tell by the way you look at him. He's lucky to have found you."
Our conversation was interrupted by the person we were discussing. Alastair walked into the room carrying a tray filled with food. The forced quiet was noticeable.
"You were talking about me weren't you?" He arched an eyebrow at me.
"Oh Alastair, stop teasing her." Katherine stood up and glanced at the tray before leaving. "Looks delicious. I'll let you two enjoy breakfast alone. Nice chatting with you, Lia."
He placed the tray carefully on a small table next to the window.
"Alright," he rubbed his hands together. "We have scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausages and toast. Sound good?"
The aroma of freshly prepared food filled the room. At the mercy of my stomach, I scurried over to the table.
"This looks amazing. And here I thought hangover food was the only thing you knew how to make."
“Does that smart mouth of yours ever stop?”
“No,” I said, loading up a dish. “Get used to it.”
We ate in comfortable silence for several minutes. He was a good cook, I had to admit.
“What are we doing today?”
Grinning mischievously, he answered, “Flying to Glasgow.”
“Really? Why?”
“Stephanie is already there and it’ll be easier if you’re both in the same city when you fly home tomorrow.”
All the food congealed in my stomach. “I don’t want to go home.”
Apparently my brain was on hiatus again, giving my mouth full range to do as it pleased. My words sucked the relaxing aura right out of the atmosphere. There wasn’t any response from Alastair. Not a flinch, not a sigh, nothing. I didn’t know what to think about that.
After we finished breakfast, he went to his grandfather’s study to gather some files and sit in on a conference call. While relaxing in the bedroom, I decided to call Stephanie and wish her luck. Of course, I got her voicemail, so I left a long, cheerful message telling her that I’d see her later in the afternoon. Thankfully there weren’t any additional texts from Nathan. I deleted all his messages from the other night.
About two hours later, Alastair appeared in the room looking stressed.
“Everything alright?” I asked, packing the last of my clothes.
“Yeah,” he answered, distracted.
“You sure?”
A knock sounded at the door.
"Shit," he muttered, opening it. I saw his aunt, pale with worry.
“We’re going to the hospital now.” Walking into the room, she addressed me. "Sorry to leave like this, Lia. Alastair’s grandfather has fallen ill.”
Anxiety cast an uneasy pall in the room. Alastair was stony-faced.
“Is it serious?” I asked, trying to even out my nerves. Zero emotion emitted from him. He didn’t even flinch when I put my arm around his waist.
“We’re not sure,” she admitted. “He left by ambulance half an hour ago. They have him in critical care as a precaution."
Ambulance? I didn’t even hear the sirens. This house was a soundproof fortress.
"You both stay here." Katherine hugged and kissed Alastair. "We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."
Hugging me, she whispered, "Keep an eye on him for me. He needs you."
She’d just placed a heavy burden on my shoulders. I was still navigating through the cracks and holes of his exterior. I’d had some success, but not enough to be comfortable thinking he’d use me as a crutch in times of uncertainty. I feared the exact opposite.
“Is there anything I can do?” I squeezed his arm, trying to catch his eye.
“No.”
He appeared to be more agitated and tense than upset over this. It was hard to get an exact read on his demeanor. I selfishly longed to have just one uninterrupted day without any drama. It was almost as though fate was taunting me.
"If you want to go home a day early, I don't blame you."
His dull, lifeless tone tore a hole through my chest.
“Home? I thought we were going—“
“Plans have changed,” he glowered. “I’ve arranged a flight for Stephanie from Glasgow, explaining what happened here.”
“You what? She hasn’t called me.”
“I talked to Darren and told him you were already on your way back to Orlando.”
Anger flamed from the pit of my stomach, fueled by disbelief. I didn’t know who this pod person standing in front of me was, but I wanted him gone.
"Why would you say that?"
“Because you’re leaving.”
“No, I am not,” I shouted. “You can’t just tell me to go. Not when something like this has happened. I want to be here for you."
"Your wide-eyed approach to everything is something to behold," he laughed bitterly. "Not all situations can be solved with a warm hug or an encouraging smile."
His eyes were lifeless, dark pools. There wasn’t even a glimmer of the man I’d danced with by the windows last night.
"I'm not trying to solve anything with a hug or a smile. I'm supporting you. That's what people do for one another."
"I don't need your support. I don't need anything or anyone,” he said without an ounce of warmth or regret. "I've managed this long getting by on my own."
The room imploded with desolation. I froze in place, surrounded by the fallout of his harsh words.
"You're joking, right? You have a family that adores you. You—” I was cut off by his laser stare. It was tortured and angry.
"I have no family. They were taken from me in the most violent, horrible way you can imagine. I have no one.”
“What about me?” I shook, tears brimming.
“You?” Dropping his stare to the floor, he inhaled slowly. Hairline fractures threatened to crumble his shell. I waited, hoping he’d soften so we could stop this frigid exchange. The silence suffocated me. Desperation and fear grabbed hold of my logic.
“I care about you, Alastair,” I blurted out.
He snapped his head up, staring at me. There was something much more dangerous in his eyes now. Confusion and pain twisted his features. Turning his back on me, he walked to the windows.
The gesture hit me with the force of a freight train. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I was consumed by the full weight of his fractured soul. All his charm, all his wit, everything that made him the person I adored really was just a flimsy exterior.
I’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
Weak.
This was the real Alastair Holden.
“Do you really want me to leave?” I challenged him one last time.
Nothing. No movement. Not a sound. Just an immobile silhouette by the window. I was done banging my head against the impenetrable shield. Upset as I was, I knew enough to stop torturing myself over something that would inevitably destroy the last shred of dignity I had left. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could change him.
Yanking my suitcase off the bed, it hit the floor with a thud. I wasn’t sure how I’d get to the airport, I just wanted to get out of this house.
“I’ll drive you.” A small voice skated across the room, stopping my heart.
“No, you won’t. I’ll take a taxi.”
“You don’t know which one to call.”
“Then call one for me,” I exploded. “Just do it so I can get the hell away from you and this house.”
I rolled the suitcase into the hall and stormed toward the main staircase. Fury and adrenaline gave me enough strength to carry it down one-handed. I waltzed outside and stood on the driveway. A few minutes later I heard footsteps behind me.
“It’ll be here shortly.”
The deadness in his voice turned my stomach. I refused to look at him. The only thing that mattered was controlling the impending tidal wave of emotion.
Catch My Breath Page 21
