by Alexis Anne
I lay there without saying anything. Without breathing.
He hooked his finger under my chin and turned me to face him. My cheeks burned with confusion and embarrassment. “What?”
He cocked his head off to the side. “Do you know why my mother named me Darcy?”
“Family name?”
He snorted. “Fuck no. My father would roll over in his grave if he knew his son had been named Darcy. Mum was a huge Jane Austen fan. A romantic to end all romantics.” His hand fell away. “So romantic she couldn’t handle not being loved.” His eyes unfocused and took on a faraway look. “She may have been a crap mum, but she taught me a lot before she died. That women are soft and hard at the same time. She was so soft it killed her, but I’ve never known anyone who could fight like her. She was…fierce. The world just broke her.”
In all this time, I’d never once heard Darcy speak about his mother. “I’m so sorry.”
He smiled sadly. “She taught me that love is the most powerful thing I’ll ever have in my hands. That I can break a woman just as easily as I can build her up. That it’s my choice how I wield that power.” He swallowed hard. “That when I choose to love a woman completely she’ll give me the world in return.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t compare me to what your father does with women. Don’t think about what I’ve done in the past. I wasn’t in love with those women and I wasn’t giving them my heart. I’ve chosen you, Nicki. You’re my woman. You will always be my woman.” He slid his hand over my bare skin to cover my heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time, but know this: there will never be anyone else for me. Not ever.”
I’d never had anyone look at me the way Darcy was looking at me right then. He was naked, blatantly putting his heart and soul on display, as vulnerable and innocent as I was underneath all the pain.
“Don’t break me,” I whispered. In the middle of all that honesty was the truth of everything for me. I gave Darcy my heart a long, long time ago. It was the most powerful and delicate part of me. When he turned his love toward me I was invincible. I swear I was.
But there was a dark side to that. The one I knew well…and because I knew it so well it was what terrified me most about being in love. It could be used against me. To strike me in a place I could never recover from. Darcy had imprinted himself on my soul and I was never, ever going to be the same. That was simply a fact.
With a trembling hand he cupped my check. “Darlin’.” He searched my face, his chest rising and falling faster with each breath. “I will break myself before I break you. That’s a promise.”
I tilted into his touch, closing my eyes. “I love you, Darcy.”
“I love you, too, Nicki.” He said it so simply, without any hesitation or hitch.
I opened my eyes and met his. “That wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be.”
He grinned. “I mean it even more now than I did two years go.” And then he froze, going pale as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Two years ago?”
He didn’t answer, so I rolled to my side to be closer to him. “Darcy? What do you mean two years ago?”
“Nothing. It’s…nothing.”
Except it was most definitely something. His voice had taken on an edge. It was thin and strained, as if he were physically in pain.
“Please don’t lie to me.”
That did the trick. With a sigh he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. “The night of your overdose? Just before…”
His hand was shaking again so I took it between mine. “Before I died?”
He nodded. “We were talking.”
No matter how hard I’d tried, I could never remember that night. “What did we say?”
Pain lanced across his face. “I don’t like remembering that night. I don’t know why I brought this up.”
I didn’t like remembering that night either, but I didn’t like a secret between us, so I tugged on his hand, bringing him down to me. “I don’t remember anything. Please tell me.”
“That’s the real reason I’ve stayed away, Nicki.” His eyes opened and locked on mine. Searching and pleading for mercy I wasn’t going to give. I was yanking this bandage off with a single rip.
“What happened?”
“We talked about Edinburgh. I told you that I loved you so much it scared me.”
He’d told me he loved me and then I’d died in his arms. “Oh, babe. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my heart breaking for the horrible things I’d done. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“That’s why I never told you. It’s why I stayed away. You’re…you’ve been working on you. And that’s exactly where you needed to be. I love you and I’ve wished every day that I could be by your side, but it wasn’t right and that hurt like hell.”
I still wasn’t entirely sure it was right yet, but damn if either of us could wait another minute.
As he kissed me deeper and slid between my legs, I realized Darcy wasn’t the giant impenetrable fortress of man-whore solitude I’d pictured him as all these years. He was right about one thing—I was comparing him to my father. I did expect him to use and abuse the people around him in order to get what he wanted. I’d learned that men were selfish and women were second-class citizens in a world they didn’t control.
But that was only in my father’s world.
There was a great big bad universe outside his walls where men like Darcy Higgins lived. Men who weren’t self-centered and obsessed with power. Men who didn’t need to take in order to feel comfortable in their own skin.
Darcy was very much a giant in my eyes, but not in the scary way. He was amazing, bigger than life. So much more than my father because his power came from within. He was every bit as vulnerable as I was and he was trusting me with his heart.
I’d spent all this time worrying about how he could break me and never once considered what I could do to him—what I’d already put him through. Yes, I knew I’d hurt him, it was impossible to miss the haunted look in his eyes, but that was different from understanding that I had the power to build him up or break him with my love.
As he entered me I was struck by one thought on repeat: I was absolutely terrified of how much power we had to destroy each other.
10
I slid into the booth beside a very nervous Jenni.
“I don’t understand why you insisted we meet at a pub,” she bristled, clearly nervous as hell.
“Because I’m hungry and I thought sharing a meal with Dominic would help you see that he’s very interested in getting to know all of you.” The week after my show I met Dominic at Jenni’s office. It was a very formal meeting to go over the basics of how many paintings he wished to commission and price.
And he barely looked at me the entire meeting.
And Jenni barely looked at him. It would be obvious to a nun that Dominic was head over heels for Jenni, but she was resisting with a brute force I couldn’t understand.
“I don’t date athletes or celebrities,” she hissed again.
And that got me wondering. “Jenni? Have you dated a celebrity before?”
Bingo. She turned bright red and stared down at her plate. “That’s a really long story.”
I glanced at the door to be sure there was no sign of Dominic. “Then you better talk fast.”
“My family is kind of, sort of, really well off.” She bit her lip and glanced up at me. “Back home in Texas we’re famous.”
We had more in common than I’d realized. “And you dated a few jerks?”
Her quiet sigh spoke volumes. Frustration, exhaustion, but mostly disappointment. “My dates were typically chosen for me. We couldn’t have any riffraff making their way into the family and of course my mother was convinced any man who asked me out, who wasn’t part of our circle, was only interested in my money.”
Our circumstances were eerily similar and completely different. “But?”
“But I met Brad Washington at a dinner function for my parents
’ charity.” She said it as if I should know who Brad Washington was.
“And this was bad?”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, you don’t care about American football. Brad is the two-time Super Bowl winning quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys.”
“Oh…and you dated?”
“For two excruciating years. My mother adored him. My father was delighted. And I was miserable. I watched as he cheated on me, ignored me, and generally dismissed anything and everything I cared about.”
“Let me guess. This is how you wound up working as a quiet, single art gallery manager in London.”
She gave me a quick nod. “I don’t date athletes, Nicki. I just want to live my life on my terms. No cameras, no headlines, and no cheating.”
Dominic walked up at that exact same moment. “Cheating? I hate cheaters. On the track and in life.” He slid into the opposite side of the booth.
I grinned at Jenni. “See? You’re not the only one.”
He scoffed as he grabbed a menu. “I believe in being good. Work hard, play harder, and you’ll reap the rewards in due time. Cheating is for the selfish.”
I reached out and pushed Jenni’s mouth closed before Dominic looked up. “I couldn’t agree more, Dominic. Unfortunately that is a rare way of seeing the world these days.”
“Perhaps,” he looked up and directly at Jenni, “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
The waitress arrived and we ordered food and drinks, then slipped into an easy conversation before I turned things back toward my lovebirds.
“What do you do in the off season?”
He smiled, his eyes still shifting back toward Jenni every chance he got. “I have a large family—three sisters and two brothers—and we all love to travel. We usually kick off my vacation with a large family trip somewhere new.”
“It sounds like you’re close to your family.”
“Family is everything to us. We have our differences, of course, but we care deeply about each other.”
“Differences?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m famous for my temper on the track. I get that from my genetics. We’re a very passionate family. Sometimes that leads to disagreements, but we always wind up back together.”
“That sounds nice,” Jenni said, fiddling with her cup of tea.
“I know I’m lucky in that regard.”
“Where does your family live?”
“We have a home near Maremma. My parents bought it twenty years ago after my mother’s art became very successful. It’s perfect for them. My mother gets a town and the countryside for inspiration while my father gets a business that challenges him and still gets his hands dirty.”
“Business?”
“The property came with farmland and a small vineyard. We were not rich before my mother’s success and they’ve fought to find a balance between their old lives and the new. I think they’ve done well. I go home every January and stay as long as I can. There is much to be said for spending time working the land. It keeps me grounded.”
“Fascinating,” I murmured, glancing at Jenni. “Absolutely fascinating that this talented, famous F1 driver is so down to earth and normal.”
She glared at me, then turned to Dominic. “You’ve commissioned three more paintings. Any idea what you’re looking for?”
His eyes glinted with mischief and I got the distinct impression Dominic knew what I was up to. He leaned back in the booth and relaxed. “I know better than to ask an artist to create something specific. Paint me what you wish, Nicole. I’m actually surprised you’re taking requests.”
I did not enjoy the spotlight suddenly shifting to me. My nerves immediately jumped and Jenni grinned with glee, the stinker.
“I’ve enjoyed the exercise of having direction. The work I do for myself is too dark for most people.”
“Really? Can I see something?”
Normally I’d brush off a request like that, but Dominic was different. He was open and understanding, and he didn’t judge art—just appreciated it. “You can both come back to my flat when we’re done here. That is, if you’re truly interested. It’s…dark.”
“What she means to say is good. Really, really good. I tried to convince her to do a show but she refuses.”
Dominic leaned forward, taking advantage of the opening she’d just accidentally given him. “Perhaps we can work together to unlock our favorite artist from her self-imposed prison.”
“I am not in a prison,” I automatically protested, completely oblivious to the fact that Jenni was actually listening to Dominic. I caught myself before I derailed anything. “But I do enjoy sharing what I love with others who enjoy it. So let’s pay this bill and get a move on before I change my mind.”
The walk to my flat was short and I tried my very best to keep Jenni beside Dominic. I tried to find questions to ask that would help her get to know the man, not the stereotype she feared he was. By the time I stuck my key in my door she looked nervous. Her cheeks were flushed—and it wasn’t from the walk.
I pushed open the outer door and glanced down the street as the strangest sensation washed over me.
“Is everything all right?” Dominic asked, immediately alert.
“I’m not sure…” I searched the people walking down the sidewalk but didn’t see anyone watching me, but that was exactly what I was worried about. I was used to the men who tailed me for my father. They were obvious and never tried to hide. This was different. I could feel someone’s eyes on me—someone who didn’t want to be seen.
Dominic placed himself between me and the sidewalk, scanning as Jenni and I moved inside. Then he closed the door and made sure it locked properly. “You felt someone watching you?”
“Yes. How did you—”
He waved a hand. “I have three sisters. I know what it looks like when a woman goes on alert.”
How was he single? Jenni had to be out of her damn mind if she wasn’t convinced Dominic was a good guy after this afternoon. “Thank you for checking. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. Please be careful and feel free to call me if you are worried again. You have my number.”
Caring was as easy as breathing to Dominic.
I left things as they were and led my guests upstairs to my flat, unlocking my door and flicking on the lights.
“The perfect home for someone like you.” Dominic grinned as he helped Jenni out of her coat before shedding his own.
I flung mine over the couch on the way to the back windows where I painted. “My most recent work is here and the rest is here.” I pointed to the wooden racks where I stored my completed work that didn’t have a home yet.
“I still don’t understand why you won’t let me show these…” Jenni sighed as she craned her neck up at the giant six-foot canvas. I was nearly done with that painting and it was an unusual combination of my darker side mixed with something new. Something I was still getting to know.
“You’ve become more hopeful.”
I stared at Jenni, then the canvas. “Is that what’s different?”
She pointed at the swirling intersection of colors on the right side of the canvas—a sharp juxtaposition with the black and white of the left side. “Your other work,” she waved at the rest of my paintings, “is literally dark. You mostly paint with the darkest shades of each color and offset it with white. Your lines are harsh, jagged, wild. But this has light in it. Your lines are smooth.”
Dominic moved to stand beside her, his eyes traveling the lines I’d painted. “This work is round. What you’re representing is something that is growing and changing, even as you paint it. Your other work is flat and square. It’s confined. You know what it is and the devil is in the details. That work is filled with internal conflict but this,” he pointed at the same swirl of colors that Jenni had just pointed out, “is being reshaped by external conflict. You have an evolution coming, Nicole.”
They let me be as I processed their analysis of my work and my life.
They weren’t wrong. My life was changing. What they didn’t know was that they’d just given me the insight I so desperately needed. I’d been confined for so long, forced to focus on the dark details of my existence, but now I was stepping out and for the first time I had just enough freedom to wonder what that meant. But most importantly, I was able to see how little of myself I knew.
I was a rebel, but once the rebellion was over, what was left? Who was Nicole Sutherland?
11
“Tell me your story,” Darcy murmured as he sucked soft kisses across my belly. An entire Saturday in bed with one orgasm after another was sheer bliss.
“Which one?” I moaned as he pressed his chin into my clit.
He didn’t move away. “I’ve heard Theo’s version of your mother. I’d like to hear yours.” With each word pleasure radiated out from my clit to my center.
“For some reason I can’t think straight…”
He chuckled softly and pressed another kiss to my belly before resting his head against my thigh and gazing up at me. “Go on now.”
I couldn’t resist running my fingers through his hair. It was soft and silky and had a bizarrely calming effect on me considering it wasn’t my hair. “There’s not much to tell. She fell in love with Father when he was setting up a drug operation in Liverpool, except of course he didn’t tell her that. He lied to her about everything until they were married. Then surprise!” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine what she went through.”
He started massaging my opposite leg with long, strong strokes, easing the muscles he’d made sore. “That’s the most dick move ever.”
“I grew up in this. I was fully aware of how fucked up my life was from a very early age. I was used to it, I knew what was expected of me. But her? She thought she married Prince Charming. A sweet young woman plucked from poverty by the impossibly gallant and rich entrepreneur from London. As soon as the ring was on her finger he turned into the devil.”
