Chapter 50
Vivian
Ohmigod! Who is that woman? Why was she touching his face? Is she... is she someone he slept with? And how dare he let her put her hand on him? And why didn’t he pull away?
How could he do this to me?
My heart plummets to my stomach. Anger tightens the band around my chest.
He must see the play of emotions on my face for he jumps back. He heads in my direction. No, no, no, I’m not doing this now. I can’t face him. Not after that scene.
I turn and dart away, down the corridor. I hear his footsteps behind me. Oh no, he’s right behind me. I reach the elevator and slap the button to open the doors. Come on come on. The elevator door slide open. I jump in. Then press the button to close them.
He skids to a stop in front of the elevator and shoves his leg between the doors. They spring back, he steps inside. My pulse rate shoots through the roof. My guts churn. I step back to put space between us until I hit the back of the cage.
"It’s not what it seems."
He faces me with his back to the elevator doors. I ignore him and stare at the indicator above his head. Except my body is very aware of him. He seems to suck the oxygen out of the small space, so when I draw in a breath, my lungs burn.
"Raven, give me a chance to explain, please."
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. There’s no mistaking the concern in his voice, but I can’t unsee that scene. He’s my husband, mine.
"She touched you," I say in a low voice. "She had her hands on you, and you weren’t doing anything about it."
He stiffens. "I was too shocked by what happened. If you hadn’t entered, at that moment—"
"I’d have never seen it, and you wouldn’t have told me about it," I choke out.
His silence confirms I'm right. My heart somersaults into my throat. My chest feels like the freaking Himalayan Mountain range has collapsed on it. My shoulders sag. He’s not denying it.
I… came here to confront him and fight for him, for our marriage. And now… I wonder if I was mistaken.
I thought he cared for me, that he wasn’t able to voice his affection for me because of his upbringing and everything that happened with him in the Marines. But now…? Now, I wonder if I should have believed him.
Maybe he meant every last word when he said he didn’t love me. That he was simply saying the words needed to convince me to do what he wanted, and only because he wanted to save his inheritance and consolidate his position in his father’s company.
"I was going to say, if you hadn’t entered then, I’d have pulled away. I was about to ask her to leave, anyway."
"More lies," I huff.
"They are not lies." His voice is unperturbed.
It’s as if he’s trying to talk sense into an errant child. How dare he treat me like that? "I’m not a child."
"I've never treated you like one." He raises his hands. "Look, clearly, I'm not good with words when it comes to you—"
"That’s putting it mildly."
He shuffles his feet. "I… I admit I made a few mistakes—"
"A few?"
"Okay, a lot of mistakes when it came to us, and I want to put them right."
If he’d said that ten minutes ago, I’d have jumped into his arms.
That was before I saw him with her.
"Who is she?" I burst out. "Why was she touching you?"
He sighs. "If you look at me, I can explain."
"I'm sure you can. You have a rationalization for everything."
"Because I didn’t do anything wrong."
I scoff, "So, why do you look so guilty?"
"How do you know that, when you refuse to look at me?"
Goddamn, I hate it when he manages to turn every argument in his favor.
"Raven, look at me," he growls. The command in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
His presence is so big, so solid, so alluring.
I find myself leaning in toward him and stop myself.
Damn, why is it that I find it so difficult to disobey him?
I take a few steps back, until my back hits the elevator wall.
"Raven." His tone holds a warning.
I so badly want to raise my middle finger at him, but that’d only bring our age difference into focus. The fact that he’s twenty-six years older than me has never felt vaster.
The seconds tick by. Come on, come on. Only two more floors to go until we hit the first, and then— Then he moves. He slaps his big palm on the panel, and the elevator shudders to a stop.
"What the hell?" I yell. "Why did you do that?"
I meet his gaze, and… Big mistake, for the impact is like having the Tundra dump its snow on me.
A chill envelops me. I’m covered in ice, without any warm clothes to shield me from the elements.
My stomach bottoms out, my pulse rate seems to slow.
Heat flushes my spine, and the combination of so many contradictory sensations makes me wrap my arms about myself.
It’s a protective gesture, one he registers, for his jaw firms. A muscle tics at his temple. He holds up his hands.
"Please… listen to me, baby."
"Don’t…" I shake my head. "Don’t call me that—not now."
He squeezes his eyes shut, then nods once. And when he opens them, there’s torment and a bleakness in them. He rubs the back of his neck, and it’s a gesture that’s so unusual for him, I pause.
It hints at the confusion he’s experiencing…
Another first. The Quentin I've come to know is an authoritarian; someone who’s very confident of who he is and what he wants.
Someone who’s assertive and self-assured; someone who’d never hesitate to speak his mind.
He looks away, then back at me, and this time, I glimpse sadness in his features.
Even before he says it, my intuition warns me. In fact, from the time I saw the two of them together in his office, I suspected it, so when he tells me, "She’s Felix’s mother," I’m almost not surprised. But then he says, "She revealed that Felix is not my son."
"What?" My jaw drops.
"She had an affair while I was on a tour of duty. She became pregnant, didn’t know what to do, and decided to pass him off as mine."
"Oh, my God." I press my knuckles into my mouth. "That must have come as a shock."
A muscle tics at his jaw. "I knew she was unhappy, but I assumed that was because she was taking time to adjust to being a mother. I suspected she was unfaithful, but it never crossed my mind that he wasn’t mine.
Not that Felix isn’t mine." He rubs the back of his neck.
"He is, in every way that counts." He shifts his weight from foot to foot.
"I can’t blame her for what happened. It was my fault.
I should have been more present. I was too busy running away from daily life. "
"You were devoting your life to the service of your country." I shouldn’t want to defend him, but I can’t help myself. Q has his faults, but his service to the cause of keeping us safe is not one I’ll ever question.
His lips twist. "I was pandering to my need to feel important by focusing on my career. It was a classic escape mechanism—"
I begin to speak, but he raises his hand. "You and I both know it, so don’t deny it. It’s why, as soon as my feelings for you became too much, and I realized how vulnerable it made me feel, I hurt you. I wanted you to get angry with me and leave—"
"—but I didn’t."
"And I hoped you wouldn’t." He shuffles his feet. "But also, I wanted you to, because I'm bad at relationships. If it was inevitable you'd leave me at some point, I preferred it happen sooner than later."
He’s been thinking all this, and he didn’t share it with me? Why didn’t he? Why has he been keeping his misgivings to himself all this time? I peer into his face, trying hard to make sense of what he’s saying. "So, you were self-sabotaging?"
He laughs, the sound humorless. "You could say that. It wasn’t until Lizzie marched into my office and told me off—”
“Hang on, Lizzie told you off?” I stare at him in amazement.
He nods. “And how. She made me realize how selfish I was being. How I was trying to manipulate you into breaking things off because I wasn’t able to do it myself.”
I rub my forehead, feeling dizzy. My little sister Lizzie faced down my very scary husband—who’s more than twice her age and weighs, at least, four times her weight—and gave him a piece of her mind? I don’t know what to make of that.
“And when I learned that Felix wasn’t mine, everything became clear.”
Something in Q’s voice prompts me to look up. "How do you mean?"
"I realized how much I love him. I realized…how much I love you."
I blink slowly. "You love me?" I try to keep the skepticism out of my voice but must not succeed because he winces.
He brings his fist up to rub at his chest, then swallows. "I know, I’ve been an arse—"
"You think?"
He doesn’t smile. "I’ve been more than that. I’ve been a wanker. I’ve been selfish, Raven. I hurt you, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself." The expression on his face is so tortured, my ribcage tightens. "I understand why you wouldn’t believe it, but I’m going to convince you."
“Are you?” I look at him, aware my skepticism is showing on my face.
Hey, I’m allowed to feel cynical, considering how he tried his best to push me away.
How he tried to get me to hate him. And then, seeing him with the mother of his son.
Seeing her touching him, and he didn’t shake her off?
Is there still something there? Does he have feelings for her?
He moves forward and cages me in with his arms. "I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’d kill myself before I hurt you again; this, I swear."
When I don’t respond, his lips droop, then he sets his jaw. "You don’t believe me?”
"Would you, if you were in my place? You said you wanted to marry me because"—I make air quotes with my fingers—"I was the woman you’d been looking for your entire life, only to turn around and tell me you didn’t want a relationship that would tie you down. You said I wasn’t enough for you. You said—”