Chapter 5
chapter Five
Changes
Tiffany
It’s been a week since the incident in Nico’s office. Part of me believes I should drop the matter. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, then I shouldn’t force him. But something in that letter scared the shit out of him.
For as long as I’ve known Nico, he has been an unshakeable, brilliant and solid man. However, that day in his office, I saw genuine fear. Not a fear of dying or bad news, but the fear of someone who has unhealed trauma.
It made me realize I know little about him.
I know he is a hotel tycoon. I know he has a sister and that his parents died when he was eight.
Yet, I don’t know any actual facts about him.
I don’t know where he grew up, I don’t even know anything about him past the age of eight.
Hell, I don’t even know what his sister looks like.
It dawned on me a few nights ago that I married a man I didn’t know shit about.
If Nico and I were going to work this thing out between us, he was going to have to let me in.
The clock on the microwave reads midnight. The house is quiet. Mr. Jim and Mrs. Gloria are fast asleep in their home on the property. Noah has been down for a while. He wakes up only once a night now. He isn’t due back up for a few hours. However, sleep eludes me.
I know part of the reason is because Nico isn’t sleeping beside me. Though I stand by my decision not to let him back in my bed, it isn’t easy. I spent most of the night lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about our relationship.
“Can’t sleep?” His deep voice startles me out of my thoughts.
I turn to face my husband. His disheveled hair is standing up on his head.
His plaid sleep pants hanging low on his hips showing off that flat stomach and the deep U shape of his pectoral muscles.
He’s barefoot and shirtless, but he’s wearing a robe that’s hanging open.
The Saint Michael tattoo on his chest and stomach catches my eye.
I shake my head and turn away from him. “So many signs that I missed.” I think about how I saw that tattoo and never put it together that he was Saint.
“The only sign you needed to see was how much I wanted you. Nothing else mattered.”
Turning my gaze back to him, I watch as he leans against the door frame. Once again, I wish I could just turn my feelings off. I shouldn’t care anything about this man. Not after what he did. Yet, all I can think about is what deep trauma had him terrified in his office that day.
I go back to stirring my tea. Taking the bag out of the cup, I place it on the napkin beside me. Turning to him, I lean my hip on the counter and bring the tea up to my lips for a sip.
The kitchen is silent as we both watch each other.
I’m wearing my usual sleep set of a silk camisole and matching shorts.
My curls are in ten to fifteen braids tucked under a bright pink bonnet.
I look a mess. However, the way his eyes are eating me up, you would think I was all dressed up in lingerie.
After allowing a beat of silence to pass, I finally speak. “Are you ready to talk to me about what trauma triggered you the other day?”
Nico’s entire body goes completely still.
Where there was once sexual desire that painted his features, now there is only shock.
The moment passes, and his body relaxes.
His face goes neutral. He pushes away from the door frame and goes over to the cupboards.
He grabs a mug and brings it over to the stove where the kettle is.
“I don’t have any trauma.” His back is to me as he places a tea bag in his mug and pours the still hot water into his cup.
I scoff. “Right. I don’t know why I thought the man who only knows how to lie to me would actually tell me the truth.”
He spins around, his brows furrowed. “Don’t do that. Don’t make up issues that aren’t there. I’ve never lied to you about my past.”
“Of course, there’s no need to lie because you just don’t tell me anything.”
“I’ve told you what’s important.”
Placing my cup down on the marble countertop, I lean forward, placing my palms down. “Where did you go to middle school, Nico?”
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t speak. I keep going.
“What about high school? Huh? What does Marissa look like? Hell, what’s her last name?”
He stares back at me, not saying a word.
“Exactly.” I push up from the counter. “You talk about how much you love me, but you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” he grits.
“Loving me is allowing me in. It’s letting me see the real you, no matter how ugly and messed up the truth is.”
He’s shaking his head as I speak. “You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that I love you. I will die for you, Tiffany. For you and Noah, I will destroy this fucking world. Everything else is irrelevant.”
I believe he thought that was all it took. I also believed that he would do all the things he just mentioned. However, that isn’t what makes love work. I can never truly love him if I don’t know him.
“I need more,” I say.
He looks away, running his hands over his head.
“My past is in my past for a reason. I can’t give you that.”
When those dark brown eyes look back at me, I see the hurt and the fear staring at me through his gaze.
Whatever he is hiding is big and painful.
And maybe he is even afraid or ashamed of it.
I understand not wanting to share your most hurtful trauma with a stranger.
However, you can’t say you love someone and want to be with them and not share a part of you that made you who you are.
He knows everything about me. My issues with my mother, my fears from my childhood, even the things I’m embarrassed by, like how I stayed with Marcus even after all the cheating. He can’t have all of me yet give so little of him.
Shrugging, I say, “Then I can’t be with you.”
The fear disappears, and I’m face to face with Saint again.
It’s crazy how now that I know who he is, I can see the switch so clearly.
Nico is the sensitive man I fell for. The man who protected me from a bully at a coffee shop.
The man who remembered my birthday and opened his home to me when I thought I was in danger.
Saint is who he truly is. The man who orchestrated the danger.
“We’ve gone over this. There will be no divorce.”
It’s stupid, I know, but divorce is the furthest thing from my mind. And maybe that makes me just as crazy as he is. My end goal isn’t to leave, it’s to get to know the real him.
I hold up my hand. “I didn’t say anything about divorce. But until you are honest with me, you can’t come back to my bed.”
He cocks his head to the side, a smile lifting the corner of his lips. “Is that so?”
Fuck! Just the way he says those three words with that mischievous grin has my nipples hard and my belly fluttering. My pussy spasms at the memory of Nico’s dick pushing into me.
“Yes.” I lift my chin. Look, I may be a little dickmatized, but I wasn’t a pushover.
It wasn’t going to be easy for Nico to climb back between my legs.
I’m a firm believer that if I sleep with a man, I want to have a connection with him, something more than surface level.
Not knowing who Nico truly is feels like a disconnection.
He chuckles and rubs his chin. “Okay.”
Feeling a little more confident, I go on with my demands. “Also, I’d like to go back to work. Not full-time, but maybe a client or two.”
The smile on his face falls. All playfulness is out the window.
“We agreed you wouldn’t go back until Noah was at least a year old or older.”
That was the agreement he and I had come to when I got pregnant. He wanted me to stay at home for good, but I never wanted to be a stay-at-home mother. We came to this agreement as a compromise.
“We did, but things change. And I need to have an outlet and my own income.”
His gaze narrows. “Your own income?”
“Yes.”
“You know that if by some miracle we don’t end up together for whatever reason, you and Noah will never have to work a day in your lives. That’s not just a promise, but it’s written on paper and filed with my lawyer.”
It was encouraging to know that he had taken precautions for me and his son and that if we weren’t able to make it work, I would be taken care of.
But things change, and so do people. I wanted my own money.
Plus, as I said, I never wanted to not work.
I love what I do, and being away from it made me realize how much I miss it.
And if I’m honest, I need a distraction.
Sitting in this house all day thinking about the shambles my love life is in is depressing.
I shrug. “I know and I appreciate that, but I want to go back to work. Not just because of the financial aspect, but because I need something else to do other than sit in this house and be sad.”
That was the truth. I loved my son, and I enjoyed spending all this time with him, but my mind can’t stay busy here. And I needed something to distract me from Nico.
He’s silent for a moment. His face gives nothing away.
“Okay,” he finally says. “You can go back to work, but Jake stays with you.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Are we still pretending Saint is after me? I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Either Jake goes with you, or you don’t go.” His words are said with such finality that I don’t even consider arguing.
Tossing my hands up in the air, I sigh. “You know what, whatever.”
He nods as if he just won a debate.
“We’ll need to find and hire a nanny for Noah. I’m not sending him to a daycare.”
On this, he and I agreed. “Okay. I’ll do some research and send you over what I find.”
“I’ll do the same.”
We were at a standstill. I never thought Nico and I would be this way. He and I have always had a flow in conversation and energy. Even in our silence, we were comfortable. But this wasn’t comfort.
“Well,” I say, picking up my tea. “Goodnight.” I quickly make my way out of the kitchen. Not much was resolved tonight. And to be honest, it will take a long time before it ever will be.