Chapter Eight #2
I can’t help the half laugh that escapes. “I always appreciated that about you. Never afraid to ask the hard questions in the bluntest way possible while still sounding kind.”
Her lips curve up into a slow, sweet smile. “I try. And?”
“Yes.” I hold up the crystal flute. “I’m very good at throwing money at problems and watching them go away. But trying to fix what happened yesterday, make you feel better…” I shrug. “Emotional support is not my area of expertise.”
“But you do give. Your foundation, the bonuses at work.” She smiles slightly. “You’re a much better man than you think you are.”
I don’t know what to say. She stands and moves to the railing. Stares out over the water until I see her shoulders relax slightly, as though she’s made a decision.
Seraphina
“I met Brett my junior year of college.”
No going back now. The weight of what happened has been pressing on me, a weight on my chest so forceful it sometimes hurts to breathe. I hope that not only will sharing finally alleviate some of the pain, but that Aiden won’t look at me differently once I confess.
“I danced in high school, which didn’t leave much time for dating.
College wasn’t much better. A double major with a minor and the college dance team kept me busy.
I had a casual boyfriend sophomore year, but we drifted apart.
My schedule was so demanding we barely saw each other.
I started to wonder if I was pushing myself too hard, if I was missing out.
” I glance over my shoulder and give Aiden a weak smile.
“Ego is a terrible thing. When a football player asked me out after a game, I was so excited.”
I turn back to the sea. I hear Aiden get up and move about the terrace. My heart’s galloping. Will he leave? Does he even want to hear this?
I nearly jump when he appears next to me.
He gently wraps his fingers around mine, holds the flute up and tops it off.
I watch him, amazed by how relaxed he looks.
Instead of a three-piece suit he’s wearing a white linen shirt and khaki shorts.
His hair is tousled, the lines that usually linger around his eyes smoothed out.
“Thanks.” I watch the bubbles in the glass.
“That first year was good. Great, actually. Flowers almost every week, dates, movie nights. Looking back, there were signs. Exaggerating a play he made during a game. Getting this frustrated look on his face when someone contradicted him before he’d laugh it off.
But I dismissed it because everything else was so good. ”
He stands there with me at the railing. Waiting, ready to listen.
“It started off small at first. Asking if I could change into a different dress because he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else looking at me the way he did.
He phrased it just so that I felt selfish for wanting to wear something for me.
If he went too far, he’d apologize and blame practice or his professors or his coursework. And then…”
My voice trails off. Aiden lands a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know.” Resolve hardens in my voice. “But I want to.”
I want Aiden to hear the full story from me, not some newspaper or social media post. I want him to know my side, know why I made the decisions I did.
“A week before senior year started, he asked me to drop the dance team. We’d barely seen each other the last few weeks, and he said he was worried we would lose our momentum as a couple. That this was our chance to prove our commitment before graduation.”
I can still picture him standing in our little studio apartment with puppy dog eyes as he romanticized cutting me off from one of my favorite things in life.
“I agreed. That’s when my parents started to wonder if he was really the right guy for me.
” I take a sip of champagne, enjoying the fruity taste of bubbles on my tongue.
Savor it for a moment before I delve into the worst years of my life.
“But I wanted the dream. Marriage, kids.
Those first few months had been good, so surely they were overreacting.
“It only escalated from there. We graduated and got a tiny apartment in Harlem. I got the job at the PR firm while he worked as an athletic trainer. He didn’t like that I made more money than him. He’d yank my hand when he got upset or grab my arm, but would always apologize after.”
Aiden’s hand tightens on my shoulder. I lay my hand over his. Foolish, yes. But I need this moment of connection, need the calmness that comes from his touch.
“It was so gradual it took me a while to realize just how bad it had gotten. If I didn’t text back quickly enough, he’d give me the cold shoulder for an entire day.
He’d make remarks about friends of mine implying they weren’t good enough for me or had it out for him.
I was so anxious, so unsure, I thought I was going crazy. ”
My voice breaks on the last word.
“That’s what abusers do,” Aiden murmurs. “They’re masters of manipulation.”
Startled, I look up at him. “Did…do you…?”
“My father abused my mother. I remember a little.”
His voice is devoid of any noticeable emotion. But I still note his quieter tone, the tight clipping of his words. Whatever happened in his childhood home is still very painful.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He meets my gaze. “You got away.”
I nod. “I did. The last six months were terrible. Thankfully we weren’t intimate.
It was as if once he knew he had control he lost interest. I didn’t have any friends left and barely spoke to my parents.
His verbal abuse escalated. He’d grab me harder, started leaving bruises.
He’d apologize with flowers or gifts, tell me he loved me so much he just couldn’t help it sometimes.
“I finally accepted I needed to leave. A secretary at my firm invited me out for a drink. I texted him that I would be home late. When I came in, he was…angry.” That doesn’t even begin to describe the sheer fury vibrating through him.
“He hit me. Accused me of cheating. I finally broke, told him I was done.” My voice dulls. “That’s when he pulled out the knife.”
Aiden turns me around, plucks the champagne glass from my hand and sets it down before pulling me into his arms. I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as emotions sweep through me. Fear, sadness, embarrassment, relief.
“You’re safe.”
I inhale the scent of him, smoky wood and spice and a soothing hint of sandalwood.
“I ran. I didn’t stop running until I got to Grace’s Refuge.”
His arms tighten around me. “That’s why you asked for the building.”
I nod. “They gave me a place to stay. Helped me talk to the police and sat with me while I filed for a restraining order. One of their advocates helped me find my apartment, and another introduced me to Cirque Obsidian. Jessica had taught some classes at the shelter before, and when the advocate learned how much I used to dance, she encouraged me to take it up again.”
“What about your parents? The police?”
I scrunch my eyes tight to prevent the tears from spilling out on his shirt.
“I didn’t want to call my parents. I was so ashamed.
Another woman at work suspected what was happening and had given me the card for the shelter.
It might sound stupid, but when I ran out of the apartment, all I could think about was getting there. ”
He cradles the back of my head in one hand and presses me closer. “It doesn’t sound stupid. Fear makes us do odd things.”
“The shelter encouraged me to contact my parents. When I did, they came straight down.” My voice grows thick.
“They never once judged me. They didn’t rub it in my face.
They just…loved me. I got the restraining order, signed the lease on my new apartment, and then my parents took me to Maine for a week. ”
Another shudder creeps down my spine, stronger than the last.
“We got a call on the third day that a neighbor had reported a man lurking about. Brett made parole and followed us to Maine. When the police picked him up, they found a gun in his car, along with duct tape and rope.”
Aiden leans back, holding me by my shoulders. His earthy eyes are burning with anger.
“If he ever gets out, I will make sure he never touches a single hair on your head or harms anyone you love.”
I believe him. What a wonderful thing to be able to do, I think with a small smile.
“Thank you. He still has years before he’s up for parole.”
“I don’t care.” He cups my face in his hands. “I will not let him hurt you.”
I stare up at him, at this man I used to think had no heart. But here he is, swearing a lifetime of protection for me, his secretary. He listened to my entire story and is still standing in front of me. No disgust, no turning away.
“After all that,” he murmurs, “do you still want marriage? Kids?”
I nod. “I do. I’ve wanted it for a long time. I’m nervous about dating, whether my past will be a sore point. But I’m not going to let him ruin that for me.”
Although sharing what happened, receiving this kind of support, has left me feeling lighter than I have in years.
I’ve talked things through with my counselor several times.
My parents, too, although I glossed over some of the details to spare them any further pain.
Jessica knows some of what happened, but Aiden is the first person I’ve shared everything with.
“Any man who doesn’t want to date you because of what happened is an idiot.” Aiden’s voice whips out, harsh and guttural. “They wouldn’t deserve you.”
My eyes drop down to his mouth. With the tension gone, my desire is returning tenfold. Suddenly all I can think about is the way his arms wrapped about my waist, how he kissed me, how he responded to my teasing and showed me just how much he wanted me.
“Aiden.”
His eyes darken as his nostrils flare. He leans down. Anticipation builds as my body hums to life, ready to be kissed again the way he kissed me back in New York.
And then he stops. I can see the indecision on his face, the struggle.
Guilt floods me. What am I doing? Tempting my boss when he made it clear he wanted to keep our arrangement in name only? That crossing that boundary would violate his own ethics?
“I’m sorry.” I step out of his arms. “I…sorry. Just a lot of emotions and I—”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“Yes, I do.” I rub a hand over my face. “Let’s forget about it, okay? I’ll grab dessert—”
I’m suddenly spun around and tugged against Aiden’s muscular chest.
“Do you really think I can forget the way you tasted? The way you felt in my arms?” He pulls me against him and I gasp as I feel him again, hard and pressing against me.
“And then you look at me like that after sharing…” He shakes his head.
“How can I possibly take what you’re offering after that?
” Hurt, I try to pull back, but he keeps me in his grip.
“I don’t want the first time I take you to be for any reason except that you want me. ”
Before I can answer that, he kisses me. Gentle at first, his lips so light on mine. Then, gradually, he deepens it, one hand sliding around to the back of my neck as the other skims up my waist and gently strokes the side of my breast.
I moan. He opens his mouth and inhales my sounds, stokes the fire burning between us with every intimate stroke of his tongue against mine.
He tugs my shirt out of my shorts. His fingers skim over my stomach, tug down one cup of the bikini I put on underneath my shirt.
When his palm cups my bare breast, I cry out.
Aiden lifts his head. His breathing is ragged, his jaw tight as he stares down at me.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I don’t want you, Seraphina.”
He pulls the bikini top back into place, pulls my shirt down. Then with one last sexy, angry look, he turns and heads for the bridge. A few moments later I hear the grinding of the anchor being pulled up, followed by the hum of the engine as it kicks on.
I grab my glass of champagne and walk around to the bow. The relief I felt in sharing my story with Aiden, followed by his kissing me like I was his last breath, unlocked something inside me. I didn’t even realize how much guilt and humiliation I’ve continued to carry.
But now, with his reaction, the first traces of my fears are disappearing. Like his kiss unlocked something I’ve been holding on to for far too long.
As the boat clears the cliffs and turns right, I glance back at the bridge. Aiden is standing behind the wheel, sunglasses shielding his eyes. His head is turned, giving me a perfect view of his chiseled jaw, the straight blade of his nose. The wind ruffles his hair, tugs at his shirt.
He wants me. Aiden Hawke, a man I’ve admired and secretly desired for years, wants me. The knowledge is both terrifying and seductively thrilling.
I haven’t been with a man since Brett. I’ve held myself back, partially out of guilt and partially out of fear that once a man learned the truth, he wouldn’t want me anymore.
Aiden’s kiss knocked that out of the water.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I don’t want you…”
I need time to think. But every touch, every heated glance, every searing kiss is making me consider that an affair with my boss and fake fiancé would be a very good idea.