An angry burst of heat spiralled through him. His eyes flashed with white. But he betrayed nothing with his body language, continuing to clean the broken glass and spilled wine before moving into the kitchen and retrieving her a fresh glass, as well as a damp, clean cloth.
She smiled at him when he returned to the terrace, but her eyes were troubled and her features looked tight.
Certainty gripped at his gut.
“So this guy,” he handed her the wine glass, moving to the railing with an appearance of calm he didn’t feel, lifting one of her hands and wiping it gently with the cloth, checking each fingertip for the tiny shards of glass. “Did you leave him, or did he leave you?”
She sipped her wine slowly, and her voice was hesitant when she spoke, her brow furrowed. “The relationship was doomed from the start.”
“Was it? Why?”
She bit into her lower lip so even then, despite the suspicion that was running through his veins, he felt a rush of longing, a physical need borne of their insatiable chemistry. He quelled it. There were more important things to consider.
“We just weren’t compatible.”
Her answers were so guarded. She was doing everything she could not to discuss this, and yet he wouldn’t let it slide. He couldn’t. He transferred his attention to her other hand then dropped it, assured she’d scratched herself a little, but nothing worse.
“How long were you with him.”
“Almost a year.”
Nico concealed his surprise. “That sounds like a long time for a relationship that was doomed from the start.”
“What can I say? I’m a fighter.”
He didn’t turn to look at her. “Are you?”
Silence.
“Does your Yaya ever come here?”
He understood. She needed to retreat for a moment. He sipped his viognier, his eyes trained on the placid water that made up the surface of the ocean just off the coastline. “No. I think there are too many memories here for her.”
“Sad memories?”
“Even happy memories can cause a rush of nostalgia that is sad, at times.”
She was quiet again.
“How did you meet?”
“Meet who?”
“Your ex. What was his name?”
“I’d…” Her eyes flashed, then she looked down at her feet. “I’d prefer not to say it here.”
Certainty was a blade in his chest. It was such a strange response, but not if her ex had done something so heinous she couldn’t bear to invoke him by giving him a name.
“Okay.” He looked at her, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “So how did you two meet?”
“At a bar.” She fidgeted her free hand in her lap, her eyes trained on her fingers. “I’d been out with my editor. I was pretty buzzed on champagne.” She shook her head in a way that could only be described as self-condemnatory. “I’m sure you know the story.”
A muscle clenched in his jaw. Unfortunately, he did. For Nico’s part, he had some hard and fast rules in life and not sleeping with a woman who’d had enough to drink that she might not know her own mind was one of them. He liked his partners to be fully engaged in the moment, not affected by alcohol consumption.
But there were some men who felt the opposite, who saw tipsy women as easy quarry, who purposefully pursued women who had obviously been drinking. It fit the mental image he was building of Maddie’s ex that the guy would have been one of the latter.
“He was charming, and handsome, and funny.”
Despite the realisation he was having, Nico felt a burst of jealousy. It surprised him for its force and uniqueness – he was not prone to envy. “Love at first sight?”
“I think I probably thought so, back then. I don’t believe in anything so stupid now.”
“No,” he agreed with muted approval.
“I was…so naïve.”
He heard the criticism in her tone and wanted to refute it, but not now. Not when she was showing signs of opening up to him. Instead, he stayed quiet, watching her, waiting for her to continue. Most people would, once they got on a roll. But Maddie wasn’t most people and if he was right, her experience wasn’t a common one. She stayed quiet, her lips clamped together so they were lined with white from the pressure of her expression.
“Do you still speak to him?”
Fear – unmistakable – filled her eyes. “No. Never.” Then, with an obvious effort, she smiled at him. “He messages me still. I should change my number.” A frown. “I don’t know why I haven’t done that yet.”
He nodded slowly. “I can have one of my assistants do it for you.”
Her smile was more genuine now. Slowly, she was coming back to him, returning to what he thought of as a normal version of her. “One of your assistants? My, how the other half lives.”
He turned his back on the view, propping his elbows on the railing and looking at her until a hint of pink filled her cheeks.
“That’s okay,” she said with a small smile. “I’ll do it.”
“You can’t just tell him to stop messaging you?”
A quick shake of her head; her smile dropped.
“Tell him it’s over and there’s no point him writing?”
“No.”
“It is over, though?”
“Absolutely.” She swallowed. “I never want to see him again for as long as I live. I hate him.”
It was proof enough. Maddie wasn’t someone who would hate easily. Her ex had done something unforgivable to her and Nico knew deep down that it wasn’t anything run of the mill. It wasn’t an affair or a lie, an argument over staying out too late. Nico walked to her slowly, gently, pressing a hand to her soft cheek, drawing her gaze upwards.
“Maddie, I hope I’m wrong about this, but I don’t think I am.”
“About what?”
“Your ex…did he…” What was wrong with him? Why the hell couldn’t he frame the question? Because what he was about to say was so sickeningly wrong that he hated even shaping the words into a sentence. Except she was terrified and traumatised and he had to be strong for her. It wasn’t his job to overlay his emotions onto her grief.
“Maddie, he hit you, didn’t he?”
Chapter 8
SHE DRANK HALF THE glass of wine in one sip, simply as an excuse to look away, but her heart was slamming into her ribs and her tummy was squeezing. Heat flushed her face and a loud ringing sounded in her ears.
“I don’t know why I didn’t realise sooner,” he was saying quietly
She wanted to reassure him somehow, but she couldn’t. Danger surrounded her. Danger at talking about her relationship with Michael, because somehow it made it more real, rather than just something she could lock away in a part of her brain that she never wanted to go to again. Danger because this man knew her ex, was – or had been – friends with him. Danger because she didn’t want Nico to see her as a woman who would stay with someone like Michael even when academically she knew all the statistics on that, on her reasons for not walking away from him sooner. Danger because she cared what Nico thought of her more than was wise, given their casual relationship status.
“I’m right?”
She shook her head, her hair whipping against her cheek. But then, when she looked at his face, she knew she couldn’t lie to him. She didn’t want to. This thing with Nico would end in a matter of weeks, and she’d never see him again. She could lock him in the same part of her brain she kept Michael, walking away from both of them and not looking back.
She didn’t want to think about the way that made her heart feel all scraped out, the way it tore at her nerve endings.
“Yes.” Her eyes swept shut. She hadn’t expected to feel a rush of relief at admitting that and nor did she want to cry, but tears filled her eyes and she blinked hastily to clear them.
She felt Nico’s tension. It was strange how without saying a word his body could convey so much to her. He looked at her for several seconds, his features unrec
ognisable, and then he nodded slowly, scanning her face.
“It didn’t start out like that. In the beginning he was charming, if somewhat controlling. But I thought that was a sign of how much he liked me. I was such a gullible fool.” She shook her head. “I should have seen the signs. One time he was driving us to dinner and someone cut him off. He lost it. He was apoplectic. I mean, only for a minute or two but I was shocked by how angry he got over something so minor. Driving in London is…”
“Full of people who cut you off,” he agreed.
“It was a strange reaction but I knew he’d had a busy week. I made excuses for him all the time, even at the beginning. I think to start with he made me feel so good, that when that flipped and he began to enjoy…making me feel bad, I kept telling myself it was out of character. That he was a good guy having a bad day, that he didn’t mean the things he said. It sounds so pathetic.”
“Not at all,” his voice was hoarse.
She lifted her shoulders. Now that she’d opened up to someone, she didn’t want to stop. For months she’d run things through her own mind, with no indication that things were ever going to make sense. To have someone else to discuss this with was somehow liberating.
“It wasn’t like he hit me on the first date, you know? Everything was okay in the beginning, though looking back, it wasn’t. But after about six weeks, he started to make these comments. Nothing awful, but just a bit condescending. Like he’d belittle me to see my reaction. And even when I didn’t really agree with what he’d said, it just undermined my confidence so completely.”
A divot formed between her brows.
“The comments got worse and more frequent, but in between times, he was charming and loving, so I never thought about leaving. If I talked to him about how his behaviour made me feel, he’d gaslight me, telling me I was imagining it or being too sensitive, so I came to doubt all my instincts and reactions.” She shook her head angrily. “It was so easy for him. I let him treat me in a way I’m completely ashamed of.”
“Don’t.” His voice was husky. “You are blameless in this, Maddie. Absolutely blameless.”
It might have been factually accurate but that didn’t make it any easier to believe. “I just wish I’d left him the first time he belittled me; the first time he hit me.”
There was silence and when she looked at Nico she could see that he was trying – and struggling – to contain himself. “Did it happen often?”
She bit down on her lip. “The first time was during an argument. He gambled a bit – or I thought it was a bit but it turned out to be a substantial habit,” a frown pulled at her lips. “He lost a lot of money and I found out by mistake. When I confronted him about it, he slapped me across the cheek.” She lifted her hand, holding the flesh there, the sting so vivid in her memory it could have just happened. “I was shocked. I mean, he had a temper but I honestly didn’t think he was capable of that.” She swallowed, tears stinging the inside of her throat. “He seemed shocked, too. He apologised, explained how stressed he’d been, that his gambling was like a hot-button issue and he just saw red.”
“I see.” His words were strained.
“I know I should have walked. It’s just…hard to accept that someone you care about is capable of that.”
“And he didn’t stop?”
“He did for a couple of weeks. Everything was great. But then I slammed the door when I left his place – I needed to get to my editor’s for a meeting – and he must have fumed about it all night because when I got back that evening he was…livid. It’s so hard to explain what that’s like, watching someone implode, it’s like you’re surrounded by walls of glass and they all shatter simultaneously. You spend so long picking the glass up and trying to stick it back together that you don’t realise how dangerous it is to you. All I cared about was fixing him. I didn’t understand how he could change so much. Except he didn’t change, that’s what he was like all along, he was just better at hiding it initially.”
He crouched in front of her, his face level with hers, and she felt his proximity as some kind of balm. “You know this isn’t your fault?”
“It’s not my fault,” she agreed, but with a shake of her head. “But I hate how long it took me to walk out. Even now, I’m so terrified of him, Nico. I mean, it’s been over six months since I left London but I live in fear of him finding out where I am. The last time – the reason I left him – I honestly felt like he was going to kill me.” A sob surprised her, landing between them, so he brought his head forward and kissed her, swallowing her grief and sadness deep inside of him.
“He is a bastardo, a pathetic excuse for a man. I hate that this has happened to you.”
She nodded. “Me too. Except if it hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here in Ondechiara, and we may never have met.”
“I would prefer even this to knowing what he did to you.” He cupped her cheeks, his eyes boring into hers. “You are beautiful and you are strong; you are courageous and kind.”
His words layered over her fractured heart, pouring warmth into the gaps ice had forged.
“Did you go to the police?”
“No.” She pressed her teeth into her lip, her expression showing remorse. “When it first started happening I was so ashamed. I know that’s an awful thing to say. I’ve read so many articles about domestic abuse and I never understood that response but I get it now. It’s like there’s such a dichotomy between the life you lead and the life people think you lead, you almost feel guilty for the truth. I didn’t tell anyone what was really happening. The last time, when he strangled me, I just ran, Nico. I was so scared.” Her voice trembled.
He caught his violent curse beneath his breath even as he brought her head against his chest, holding her close to him, his hands wrapping around her back.
But now that she’d started talking about it, she didn’t know how to stop.
“I thought I was going to die. He’s so much bigger than I am and so strong, and it was just, his hands were so tight and I couldn’t breathe and his eyes were just so filled with coldness. Not even anger anymore, like just cold, ruthless determination. Why? What did I do?”
“Nothing, you did niente, nothing, cara, you must believe me. There is something wrong with this asshole of a man, not you.”
But her heart splintered because it was impossible not to wonder if Nico would feel differently if he knew exactly who the man in question was.
“It’s too late. I should have taken photos or something, but with no physical proof, no corroborating evidence, it would be my word against his. At the time, getting away was the only thing I cared about. I wasn’t thinking clearly or I probably would have gone to the police. But I was so scared – at the time I felt like he could appear from anywhere, at any time. I knew he’d started to keep tabs on me and I had no idea how extensive that was.”
“You did the right thing,” he soothed, his hands running over her back gently but with a consistent speed so there was reassuring regularity in his touch. “You did the right thing.”
Again, his words seemed to slip inside her and repair something that had been cracked and broken by Michael. She felt his approval and congratulations, his agreement that in that moment, running was all that mattered. She hadn’t known how badly she’d needed that – for someone to support the steps she’d taken.
“He promised he’d get help,” she said softly, shaking her head, but Nico kept holding her, keeping her close to him.
“Men like him are beyond help.” The words were scathing.
“Do you really think so?”
There was a pause. “Si. But I don’t know. I have no experience with this, I’m speaking only as to how my ethics guide me. I cannot imagine ever laying a hand on a woman – it fills me with disgust and anger and an unbearable sense of impotence to imagine you ever being hurt by anyone.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, only it felt appropriate to say the words, and she meant the
m. This whole experience with Nico had been exactly what her soul required. He’d taken a body that had been hurt and unable to trust and he’d kissed her back to happiness. He’d worshipped her flesh, exalted in her physically and with every touch, she’d become more and more herself again.
“I’m stronger now,” she said seriously, pulling away a bit, looking up at him. “Coming here was important. It helped. But meeting you, Nico…” she shook her head slightly. “I know our situation is just temporary, but you need to know how much you’ve changed me.” Her smile was shy. “I feel like somehow you led me back to myself; like I remember who I really am now. Thank you.”
His eyes flecked with a golden green and creased at the corner as he returned her smile. “My pleasure.”
He couldn’t sleep. He stood inside the doorframe, watching Maddie, her gentle breathing, her soft skin, her slender frame. She was naked beneath the sheet, the outline of her body visible to his gaze. She was petite. Short and slim. Even a man of average build would physically dominate her. But if this man was like Nico? Tall and broad and muscled? It would have been easy to hurt her, to damage her, and knowing that someone had done that made him want to shout at the top of his lungs. How dare anyone lay a hand on her?
Nico wasn’t a violent man. When he’d found out the truth about Claudette and Alexander, he’d been devastated and furious, but he’d spoken calmly to Claudette – all the more so for how angry he’d been.
He couldn’t imagine lashing out at someone physically. At least, he couldn’t have imagined that. But hearing the fear in Maddie’s voice, seeing the pain in her eyes as she recounted her experience, he’d wanted to reach back through time and grab the bastardo around the throat and throw him to the ground. God, he wanted to kill him, whoever he was.
She rolled over in her sleep, spreading her arm out instinctively, reaching for him. He stayed where he was, his body like stone. She stayed asleep, a small smile on her lips. It was only tiny, but it lit something in the pit of his belly.
Billionaire Brides: An Anthology Page 55
