Chapter 43
forty-three
Am I proud of the fact that I went back to review the contents of Alice’s hidden shoebox?
No.
Am I willing to do anything necessary to get over whatever wall she’s keeping around her heart? Hell fucking yes.
There were dozens of images to use as inspiration. Most of them aren’t current, though. The resorts and vacation destinations will probably be easy to track down… but the restaurant and clothing pictures were ripped out of magazines over a decade ago.
Still, I got the concept. A very romantic atmosphere, a tucked-away table. Ambience and privacy. I could do that. In fact, I had a great idea.
Alice is everything I’ve been waiting for.
No one will keep me from giving her the first date she deserves.
Especially not the woman herself, who does just about everything she can to convince me I don’t need to take her anywhere “fancy” as we walk into our first destination of the evening.
God, she looks lovely. The oncoming twilight just makes her eyes even bluer, her skin creamier. I’m internally counting the minutes until I can run my hands all over the silky floral dress covering her curves.
“You’re forgetting something important,” I murmur, trying to sound urgent as I wrap myself over her, and my lips graze the tip of her burning ear.
Her azure eyes go wide with worry. “W-what?”
I flash the smile that usually makes her squeeze her thighs together. “I want to take you somewhere fancy. I want the whole city to see who I’m out with.”
She doesn’t believe me. That’s okay. She will. I have no plans to retreat. I hold her gaze so she can soak in how earnest I am as I add, “You make me very proud.”
Her eyes gloss while she bites down on her lip. “Maybe… let’s just go back to your place.”
She isn’t entirely kidding, and that has me laughing out loud, even when my cock jerks at the jest. “Oh, we will,” I promise. “After I show you off properly.”
Le Coucou boasts the best French food in town and an undeniably romantic atmosphere. The white brick walls and rounded passageways make the interior intimate, despite the high ceilings, enormous windows, and all the finery.
I check-in with the ma?tre d’ and steer Alice away from the main dining room, toward the picture-perfect bar area.
A vintage chandelier glows over the antique black bar’s marble top.
Delicate, shimmery aqua blues and forest greens make up the mural surrounding the room’s arched doors and the large mirror behind rows of gold shelves filled with expensive liquors.
Her mouth briefly drops open. “Marco… it’s gorgeous in here.”
“Then you fit right in,” I inform her, my tone not to be argued with. “We’re just staying here for a couple of drinks. Here’s our table.”
Alice blinks when I pull her chair out for her. She tries to hide her surprise, dropping into her seat and smoothing her skirt nervously. I fold myself into the seat beside her instead of one across the table, handing her the wine list. “What’s your favorite?”
The same question I asked the first time I had her. The flare of desire that lights in her eyes makes my cock twitch.
It darkens as quickly as it appears, though, replaced with a sort of sadness I don’t understand. I reach for her hand, but she leaves it limp in mine, looking at me with pure dismay.
“You really shouldn’t have done this,” she murmurs, gesturing around at the buzzing bar.
I’m not sure how to answer her; she hasn’t even seen my real plan yet. I squeeze her fingers. “What do you mean?”
Alice has never looked more beautiful than she does when she lets her rigid posture fall lax and tilts me a hefty dose of side-eye. Her gaze rolls as her perfect, lush lips tilt into a sardonic smile.
“I mean… a date is one thing,” she jokes, “but this is just mean. You’re going to make it impossible for me to go out with anyone else ever again.”
I should probably be alarmed by how deeply satisfying I find that thought. Instead, I frown at her. “Why would that be a bad thing?”
She half-shrugs. “Because this is temporary. I know we’ve been having fun this week, but I know that doesn’t mean anything. We can’t be forever. Just for now.”
Fucking hell.
It isn’t the first time she’s said that. Before, I thought she had low self-confidence. Then, when I heard how her mother spoke to her, I assumed it had something to do with a chronic lack of approval.
I spent the whole week worshipping her body and praising her every chance I got, though. And after last night, if she still doesn’t think I see a future for us…
I’m absolutely out of ideas as to why she would ever believe that.
“Alice…” I start, unsure how to phrase my suspicions.
“If there’s a reason why you think we could never be in a real relationship, I think you need to let me in on it.
Because I can’t think of a single goddamn thing.
You’re the kindest, smartest, loveliest woman I’ve ever been on a date with.
Any man would be lucky to have you as his girlfriend. ”
It’s quick, but I catch the naked pain that bolts across her face. And why does she suddenly look so ashamed?
Alice bites her lip, worrying it. “You—No. That isn’t true.”
I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but whoever is responsible for this look on her face is going to pay. Using my free hand, I lift her chin and cup her cheek, asking her to go on without saying a single word.
Her answering sigh trembles. Watery mortification fills her vivid blue depths. “I… It—” Her head shakes from side to side. “It’s not a nice story.”
I’ve taken blows to the head that hurt less than seeing tears in her eyes. I hate that it’s happened two nights in a row—last night because of my past and now because of something in hers.
I brush my lips across her cheek, wanting to chase the bad memories off her face. “Shhh, sweet girl. You don’t have to tell me.”
I’m not sure I want to know. Or if I can take it.
We sit in heavy silence for a long moment before Alice sighs quietly again. Our eyes meet once more, hers conveying that whatever she needs to tell me won’t get easier with time. She ducks her head slightly, but slowly starts.
“When I met Tris, I couldn’t believe she wanted to be friends with me,” Alice whispers. “Everyone loved her. Guys. Other girls. She was it, you know? She’s always had that thing that people can’t resist. Everyone loves her.”
My jaw hardens, both at her dismissal of herself and her assertion about Miss Dunn—a woman I’ve never been drawn to for even a minute.
Oblivious, she goes on, “When we moved to the city together after college, we went out every Tuesday night to this one bar. Tris loves karaoke, and this place had everything. Good drink specials, cute boys, great DJ.”
I wonder which place she is referring to and whether I’ve ever taken Ella there. She’s joined Tris for her weekly karaoke nights a few times, but I don’t recall ever seeing Alice with them. I know I would have remembered her.
A waiter brings us a bottle of water, asking what we’d like to drink. I point at the first bottle I see and wave him off. Alice shifts beside me, clearly growing uncomfortable as she continues her story.
She darts her eyes around to make sure no one else is listening and exhales hard.
“Th-there w-was… There was this one group we saw every week. Five or six good-looking men our age who liked the open mic night, too. They all worked in Midtown, like Tris, and, of course, it only took a few weeks before they were eating out of the palm of her hand.”
My fingers curl around Alice’s thigh, not liking her ominous tone one bit. “What happened?”
“One of them picked me.” She says the words with remembered shock. “Tony. He started sitting with me every week, buying my drinks, asking about my work and my hobbies. One night, he… he held my hand. Out in the open, on top of the table, where his friends could see.”
God, it hurts how much that one simple act surprised her. I swallow a knot and bring our joined hands to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Lucky bastard.”
Instead of gifting me a giggle, Alice winces. Her shoulders hunch.
“I’d been with other men before,” she admits quietly. “In college, after parties, and stuff. Fumbling around in the dark, tipsy, and all that. But I’d never had a… a date. And he asked me out on one. S-so I went, and then he wanted me to come home with him, s-so I did.”
Her words break. Instinctual fury pours through me. “What did he do?”
So help me God, if he hurt her.
She finally whispers, “He kept asking me out. Sleeping with me, calling me his girlfriend. And I was so, so happy. I’d always wanted to be in a real relationship.”
I ignore the burn of envy in my gut. Which is wise, because a second later she blurts, “I didn’t notice at first how often he asked me to do things for him.
It started small, with dry cleaning or groceries.
Then he wanted meals and foot massages. He asked for money toward our dates, but almost never planned any. ”
Fucking jackass. Tony what, I wonder. I could probably find him. Pay him a little visit and—
“It t-turned out that it was all a j-joke. A b-bet, actually.”
—and kill him.
A bet?
She lets that sink in for a moment. My skin prickles, heating as rage simmers under the surface.
Our waiter returns, uncorking the red wine I selected and pouring enough for a taste. I don’t take one, pointing to Alice’s glass with an expression that must be close to murderous. No wonder he scurries off as soon as possible.
“What do you mean?” I bite out.
Alice’s cheeks flame. “Th-there was… It was joke from a TV show, I guess,” she stammers quietly. “When two girls were out, and one was beautiful, and the other one was ugly, the joke was that a guy’s wingman would have to ‘jump on the grenade’ so his buddy could score the hot one.”
She sniffs once. “I found texts on his phone one night. A group chat. They were all coming up with things for Tony to get me to do. Errands, chores. Some, um, sex stuff. They had money on how far they could push me until I finally realized they were messing with my head.”