“I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “I can’t walk away from her, Sandra. She already means everything to me. I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her.”
“Then talk to her. Ask her about her past. If you want to date her, then you need to know her, who she really is. If you don’t, you may live to regret it.”
Lifting her hand to cup his cheek, she said softly, “I love you. I have for six years. You are everything to me, and you don’t even realize it. I hoped you’d feel the same eventually, but you never will, will you?” She smiled sadly when he silently shook his head. “That’s okay, too. Call me when you’re ready to take another chance. I’ll be waiting.”
Leaning up onto her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth against his. She walked to the door, unlocking it and half turning to look at Dominic. His back was turned to her. Once more, she said firmly, “Talk to her. Before you decide that you want to spend the rest of your life with her, find out who she really is. Then make your choice. If you don’t, you may regret it.”
DOMINIC TIREDLY RUBBED his eyes. He’d been staring at the same spreadsheet for the past hour without processing any of it. Sandra’s parting words kept playing over and over in his head. He knew she would do anything to stop him from ending their relationship. Sandra was manipulative, selfish and only gave a damn about one person—herself. He’d known what she was like when he’d started dating her, and at the time he hadn’t cared. She’d been hoping to become a permanent fixture in his life, and he’d been looking for someone to ease the restlessness he’d started feeling inside. A restlessness he hadn’t been able to identify, until he found himself falling for Stephanie.
He scowled. Sandra had succeeded in making him question the craziness of falling for someone as damaged as Stephanie. He didn’t doubt the strength of his feelings for her, nor did he regret his decision to end it with Sandra, but he couldn’t help wondering about the secrets Stephanie kept locked inside.
His brow furrowed when he recalled Sandra’s suggestion to ask Stephanie about her parents. If Sandra thought she could scare Dominic off with her comments, she was wrong. He knew Stephanie was damaged. He’d already accepted that any relationship he ventured into with her would be like none he’d ever had before. He was going in with his eyes wide open. If anything, the suggestion to ask Stephanie about her parents only intrigued him more.
Thinking back to the day on Santa Monica Pier, when they’d kissed for the first time, he smiled softly. He wanted to know everything about her—the good and the bad. His smile faded when he thought back to Stephanie’s comments. She used to go to the pier with her parents, and if they weren’t available, her minders. He couldn't help but wonder why she would have needed minders. What kind of life had she lived? A million things raced through his mind before he discarded all of them.
Leaning back in his chair, he ran a hand over his jaw, the rough abrasion of his whiskers against his fingers reminding him he should probably go home and get some sleep. Glancing at the clock, he winced. Five a.m. The bar had been shut for more than two hours, but he’d stayed back to work on some of Outlaws’ accounts, and help Jax clean up.
He’d also needed some time alone to think. After he’d broken up with Sandra tonight, he’d walked out of the bar, expecting to spend the rest of the night with Stephanie, but she’d disappeared, walking out on him. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. When he’d tried calling her, she hadn’t picked up.
A thousand scenarios played out in his mind. Maybe she’d left because she’d realized she didn’t want to be with him. Or, maybe her boyfriend had called, and she’d gone running. Picking up the eight ball on his desk, he shook it. Tonight he’d broken up with Sandra so he could be with Stephanie, yet she’d walked out on him. When the going got tough, she’d taken off. He hoped to hell he wasn’t taking a risk on nothing, but even as he thought this, he dismissed it. Stephanie felt the same way about him; he was sure of it.
Leaning forward, he moved his hand over the computer mouse, saving the spreadsheet he’d been working on before shutting it down. Impulsively, he clicked onto a search engine and typed in Stephanie Carovella. Leaning back in his chair, he waited for the results to load. Not expecting anything to come up, he was stunned as he watched more than ten thousand search results load. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he scrolled down the search engine page, reading the link titles. Scrolling back up to the first link, shock reverberated through him at the headline: Hollywood Rocked By Celebrity Murder.
Clicking on the link, he scanned the article, the tension in the pit of his stomach growing as he digested everything he was reading. Article after article he read, his expression remaining impassive. The discovery that her parents were slain in front of her made him clench his fist. He swallowed convulsively, finding it hard to absorb the fact that she’d been found walking the streets, days later, covered in blood.
Clicking on another link, he froze at the sight of a young Stephanie, her clothing stained with blood, standing with detectives. Dominic studied the photo, looking closely at her shuttered expression. She looked lost; completely alone. He wondered how she had managed to survive such a horrific accident. Had the killer not known she was in the house, or had he simply not cared?
Shutting down the link, he opened another. This time, the newspaper article revealed a photo of an older Stephanie, the woman he knew now. He glanced at the date, noting it was taken six months earlier. Recalling Sandra’s comments about Katrina Andrews and Stephanie’s own admission she’d survived a killer, he estimated the photo must have been taken shortly after Katrina’s murder. The article confirmed it.
Staring at the photo again, he reached out with his fingers to caress the computer screen. Her expression wasn’t that much different to the one she’d had at eight years old. This time, her face was a mask of control, but the pain in her eyes was still there. Her expression also held something else; there was a fury, an acceptance, and a look of sheer determination in her eyes.
Shutting down his laptop, he picked up his phone and stared at it. He wanted to call her. He wanted to tell her he knew what she’d gone through. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her he understood why she was the way she was. And he wanted to tell her he didn’t care. If anything, it made him love her more. Standing, he pocketed his phone and walked out of his office, flicking off the lights.
Glancing around the empty bar, he smiled softly. He knew about loss, and he knew about sacrifices. He’d sacrificed everything to make his dreams come true. Now, he had to show Stephanie that she needed to take a risk with him. He needed to show her he was worth risking everything for, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it.
STEPHANIE SLID OUT of Ben’s bed, silently moving across the bedroom floorboards. Picking up her mini-dress, she shimmied into it, then reached behind her to zip it up. She gasped when Ben’s arms slid around her waist, and he pressed his half-naked body against hers.
“Going somewhere?” he murmured, pressing moist kisses against her neck.
“I need to go home,” she said softly, gently detaching herself out of his embrace. “I’ve got things to do.”
“Stephanie, it’s five in the morning. What could you possibly have to do that’s so important now?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “Can’t you stay the night for once, instead of creeping out at some godforsaken hour?”
“Ben, please. I can’t. You know that,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. Feeling the tension running through him, she dropped her hand back to her side and whispered, “Please, don’t be like this.”
“Christ, Stephanie. One night is all I’m asking from you. One night to celebrate with me, but you can’t even do that, can you?”
“Ben, I’m happy for you, but I can’t stay. I’ve got a deadline tomorrow morning, and I’m already behind on some of my term papers. On top of that, I’ve got an exam to study for. Please don’t make a big deal of this,” she whispered, picking up her high heel
s and moving to sit on the bed. Bending down, she slid on her shoes, tightening the straps before standing again.
Ben shoved his hands into his tracksuit pants bottoms, an unhappy expression on his face. He was losing her, he realized. She’d come here tonight to break it off. He’d seen it in her face, and her body language. Over the past month, she’d become more distant than usual. Tonight she’d been there in body, but her mind had been elsewhere. When he’d made love to her, he might as well have been having sex with a stranger. She’d been so disconnected. Every one of her actions had been automatic, as if she’d been going through the motions with him.
Again, he wondered if there was someone else. Had she met someone on the nights she’d disappeared? She’d reassured him she hadn’t, but he was no longer completely at ease. She was keeping secrets—more secrets than usual. Tonight, there had been a jaunt in her step when she’d arrived. She’d been happier than she’d been in a while.
At first, he’d thought it was because she was working stuff out and had found an inner balance, but now he wondered if it was because she’d met someone else. He stifled down the urge to ask her. He was afraid of what her answer would be. Instead, he watched her move off the bed and walk towards him.
Touching his face, she said softly, “Ben, I’m glad you called me tonight. I wanted to share this moment with you. You’re one of my best friends. I was drowning when I met you, and you saved me. I love you. Never doubt that.”
“This feels like goodbye,” he said softly, studying her expression. Waiting for her to deny it, he said resignedly, “But you still have to leave tonight, right?”
Tearing his gaze from hers, almost afraid of what he would see there, he dropped his eyes to the worn carpet. He quickly glanced around the room, smiling sadly as if he saw it for the first time. His apartment was cramped, and he was looking forward to moving into a bigger place. With a leaden heart, he realized he would be doing it alone.
He lifted his gaze to watch her nod and move away from him to pick up her purse and her leather jacket. Softly, he asked, “I’m going to throw a party to celebrate the record deal. Will you be my date?”
She froze, closing her eyes briefly. He knew. Her heart sank. They hadn’t officially called it quits, but he knew enough to know they had major problems; the biggest being she was falling in love with someone else. Opening her eyes again, she smiled tenderly at him, swallowing the tears clogging her throat when she saw the pain on his face and the resignation in his eyes.
“Of course I’ll be your date. You’re my boyfriend, Ben.”
“Am I, Stephanie? Sometimes I’m not too sure,” he replied bitterly, turning away from her and moving out of his bedroom and into the living room. Picking up his guitar propped up against a wall, he walked to the sofa, sat down, and absentmindedly strummed the instrument.
Stephanie followed him, unsure of what she could say to reassure him. She opened her mouth before closing it again. She knew she could tell him a million and one lies to make him think they were okay, but he’d see through each and every one of them. She didn’t want to lie to him. She swore when she’d started dating Ben that she would never lie to him. She may not have told him everything that was happening in her life, and she may have evaded some of the questions he’d asked, but she’d never lied. She wasn’t going to start now.
Moving to the door, she looked back at him one last time, drinking in the sight of him sitting on the couch, desolately. She’d hurt him. More than she’d thought she could. Closing her eyes, she gripped the doorknob tightly, her knuckles whitening. Once again, she wished it were different between them. She wished she could be the kind of girl he wanted her to be: someone who would stand by his side, and support him every step of the way. She’d wanted desperately to be that girl, but she couldn’t. She had her own destiny, her own path, and it wasn’t going to be with him.
Opening her eyes, she turned the handle, jerking the door open. Softly, she said, “I’m sorry, Ben. I wish I could be someone else for you, but I can’t. I am who I am. That will never change. You deserve much better than someone who will never give you her full heart.
“I wish to God I could love you unconditionally and completely, but I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone that much. You deserve better. You deserve someone who isn’t damaged.”
Not waiting for his response, she walked out, slamming the door behind her. As soon as the door closed, she pressed her back against the apartment wall, lifting her hand to her mouth to bite back a sob. Dropping her hand away from her mouth, she fumbled with her purse, unzipped it and pulled out her phone.
Staring at the five missed calls from Dominic, she breathed deeply. She hadn’t been able to break up with Ben, not when he had been so happy about his record deal. She’d let him make love to her, knowing it would be the last time she slept with him. She’d felt like she owed him that much. One last night together in which they both pretended everything was perfect, even though they both knew differently.
When Ben had made love to her last night, there had been a hint of desperation in his touch. It was as if he’d known that this was their final goodbye.
After the party. After the party, she would end it with him. Only then would she be free to pursue a relationship with Dominic.
She’d be free to love him.
STEPHANIE WALKED OUT of the Los Angeles Times Building, and a sigh of relief escaped from her lips. For the past week and a half she’d been so consumed with her feelings for Dominic that she’d let everything else slide. It had shown in her work, and in her assignments.
Freezing at the sight of Dominic leaning against the hood of his Porsche, she swallowed, hard. She’d been avoiding him since that night at the bar. For the first time in her life, she was unsure of where a relationship was heading, and it scared the hell out of her. Dominic was like no other man she’d dated. He knew what he wanted, he wasn’t afraid to go out there and get it, and he never backed down.
The last three days had been hell for her. She’d ignored all his calls and texts. She’d forced herself to concentrate on her studies and her work instead of spending time with Dominic. Usually that wasn’t a hardship, but this time it had been torturous. She’d had to fight every impulse she had to pick up the phone and call him.
She hated feeling this way. She didn’t want to care about someone so much that she was consumed by them, but with Dominic she couldn’t stop herself. She was used to being in control of her emotions. She’d learned to control them so she’d never reveal how she was feeling to anyone.
She’d had to. Kerri had made it her mission to make Stephanie’s life a living hell, and had only relented when Stephanie stopped reacting to her antics and comments. After that, she’d left her alone, and acted as if she didn’t even exist.
Stephanie’s lips curled into a sneer. She’d had the last laugh when she’d walked out on her sixteenth birthday, taking her considerable inheritance with her, and effectively cutting her aunt off from the allowance she’d been living off of. An allowance from Stephanie’s parents’ estate, which was supposed to be for Stephanie, but she had never seen.
Dominic made her want to lose control. Every emotion she felt for him bubbled to the surface. He made her want to scream, shout and cry. He made her want to express everything she was feeling, and that made him dangerous. When she was with him, she felt alive and free. When she was around him, she lost her head.
The last three days away from him had been hell, but they’d also been cathartic. She’d needed that time to get her head back in the game. She’d caught up with her assignments, and managed to finally finish the article she’d written for the LA Times.
A shudder ran through her again. Dominic was a mistake she should never have let happen, but she was in too deep to walk away from him. She didn’t want to. She swallowed hard. She should walk away and leave before somebody got hurt, but she couldn’t. She needed him in her life.
She gave a choked laugh. At her high sch
ool in San Francisco she’d been given the nickname The Ice Queen, because of her lack of emotion. They’d all thought she didn’t give a damn; that she didn’t feel pain or get hurt. She’d refused to let them see how much they’d hurt her with their taunts.
Her nickname in LA was Hurricane Stephanie. Gena had dubbed her this shortly after meeting her. Everyone thought she didn’t know about the nickname, but she knew. She’d overheard one of her classmates joking with another classmate about it, but she didn’t care what they thought. She had her reasons for acting that way.
When you acted like you didn’t give a damn, then people stopped expecting differently. They readily accepted the version of her she gave them—hell-raiser, and a spoiled Hollywood brat.
Taking a deep breath, she knew if she were going to have a real relationship with Dominic, she had to tell him the truth. For the first time in her life, she was prepared to tell someone about her parents. For once, she was willing to expose herself to a man, something she’d sworn she would never do. Over the past three days, she’d contemplated her next move.
She had to tell Dominic about her bloodied history. Not just about her parents’ murder, but also Katrina’s. She had to prepare him for what her life was like. She had to tell Dominic about him. If she were going to enter into a relationship with Dominic—a real relationship—then he had to know everything. He had to know about the demons she battled inside, and about the pain she carried. Lastly, she had to tell him the truth about who she was.
Only then could he rationally make a decision about whether he wanted to be with her. He had to go into their relationship with open eyes. It was the only way she could think of to keep him safe from whatever was coming her way. Whoever was coming.
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the front stairs of the Los Angeles Times Building and towards Dominic. “You know, in some states, this could be considered stalking,” she teased softly.
Damaged Page 13
