Chapter 5
"Do you think I lack fashion sense?" The question came out of nowhere, or so he thought. They had come home after dinner at the pub. He was trying his best to recover from the very hectic bout of lovemaking and catch his breath.
"Huh?"
Turning on her side, she propped her cheek on her palm as she faced him. "My fashion sense. Deb said I looked like a hobo. What do you think?"
Boggy ground, here, he mused.
"I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world."
She rolled her eyes at him. "That's because you're so stuck on me. If you weren't biased in your thinking, what would be your response?"
Feeling his way around that minefield, he ran his tongue around his teeth and tried to come up with a diplomatic response.
"You don't need fancy clothes or any sort of enhancements. You have such beautifully flawless skin, and I personally think that expensive attire is just a way to make a person feel better about themselves. That's not something you need."
Her steady gaze had him shifting slightly.
"That sounds like the party line. Why the hell can't you come out and say what you really think? And might I point out that three quarters of that apartment building you call a closet holds some very expensive clothing."
"Perhaps I'm vain." He supplied hopefully.
"Try again."
Sighing softly, he pulled himself against the pillows. "You're trying to trick me." He complained.
"By asking you a simple question?" her brows arched in challenge.
"If I say yes, you will accuse me of not supporting you. If I say no, you're going to say I'm lying. A guy cannot win here."
"Do I embarrass you?"
"What? Hell no. I love having you on my arm when we go out."
"Like a trophy?" She asked with narrowed eyes.
"That's it. This discussion is getting pretty dicey." Hauling her against him, he closed his mouth over hers, stopping the conversation altogether.
He knew better than to interrupt her or even go in her space when she was in the zone.
The first time he had made the mistake of entering her office at the cottage with the bright idea of taking her some food, she had thrown a letter opener at him and snarled.
At first, he had been highly offended and had stayed away for a couple of days.
But the joke was on him, and he had been the one to suffer.
She hadn't called him begging him to come over and he had finally caved and made the first move.
But she had explained to him in detail why she didn't like to be interrupted. He had finally learned not to take it personally.
When she started coming over to his place and staying over, he had gone to the trouble of hiring a decorator to create an office for her. Simple and tasteful, he knew her well enough not to go for the elaborate. His woman leaned more to the sturdy and reliable.
The desk at her cottage was one she had picked up in an antique store and had several dings and scratches. When he had commented on it, she had given him a surprised look.
"It's just a piece of furniture. As long as it can hold my laptop and documents I need for the moment, I'm good."
So, he had given the decorators instructions on how to deal with the office at his home. It was adjacent to his and was very different in style. A wall separated them, but whenever she was holed up, it could very well be an entire building.
He always left his door open; she preferred to close hers. He had started to check in on her ever since her pregnancy, something she resented. But he was standing firm on that. He had known her to go without eating whenever she was writing.
It was his duty to take care of her, and he was sticking to it.
They'd settled into this rhythm, a dance of boundaries and care, where he tried to respect her independence while making sure she didn't neglect herself.
Sometimes, she'd roll her eyes at his gentle reminders, but there was a softness in her smile that told him she noticed, even if she'd never admit it aloud.
Their lives had intertwined in the quiet moments as much as the passionate ones, building something sturdy and real between them.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing." She stopped rubbing her chest and lifted her head to glare at him. "This is your third time in twenty minutes."
"I never thought you noticed. How's it going?" he nodded towards her laptop.
"Good, now go away and stay gone."
"Your tea is cold." Ignoring the snarl, he moved towards the desk to replace the now cold tea with a fresh pot. "I'll check to see if you've..."
His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on a pile of letters next to the laptop. "What's this? Fan mails? I thought your assistant was..."
He easily held them out of reach when she grabbed. "This is..." A frown touched his brow as he read the one on the top. "I love the way you looked in that turquoise bathing suit. The only thing that spoil the picture was that man you choose to hook up with."
Lifting his head, he stared at her and saw the guilt there. Leafing through the rest, he noticed a disturbing pattern. He also noticed that the letters were dated twelve months back.
Kiara fidgeted with the paperweight he had given her last Christmas. "It's nothing."
"Doesn't sound like nothing to me." His expression was grim as he eased a hip on her desk. "When were you going to tell me, you're being stalked?"
"It's just some fool, with nothing to do and a long lens camera."
"This was two days ago on Saturday. We were hanging out by the pool..." His mouth tightened and she knew the very moment he picked up on it. "Christ Almighty, I made love to you right there. We were both naked."
She jolted when he shoved away from the desk and started pacing.
"I'm sure he didn't see anything or he would have said something." She eased back on the desk when he whirled to pin her with a fiery gaze.
"Oh, is that what you believe. Is it? You have someone taking pictures of you, of us, documenting everything, invading our bloody privacy and you kept it from me." He had to take several breaths to get rid of the rage that had built up inside him. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
The fact that his voice had gone quiet warned her he was on the brink of erupting.
"Yes." She sent him a pleading look that did nothing to sway him. "I thought it was harmless. Yes, he's been following me, but it meant nothing."
She spread her arms, tamping down the resentment. She hated explaining herself and apologizing, especially for something she didn't do. "I'm not used to any of this and never asked for it."
She pouted. "My so-called fame has escalated ever since we got together and I'm not saying it's your fault..."
She blew out a breath at the ominous look on his face. "All right, the guy or whoever the hell it is, has gone too far."
"You think?"
His caustic tone had her bristling. "I'll just be more cautious when going out and you can add security to the place."
"Oh, I'm going to be doing better than that." He strode to her desk and picked up the phone.
"What're you doing?"
"Calling in reinforcement. Hey Margo. Hope I haven't caught you at a bad time. How's Merrick?"
He listened for a minute, eyes never leaving hers. "Sounds about right. Listen, I wonder if you could do me a favor and pop by my place? We have a situation. All right, thanks."
He hung up. "She'll be here in ten minutes."
Putting the phone down, he walked over to the window to look out.
He lingered there for a moment, his shoulders tense, silent as he watched the world outside their window.
The gravity of the situation pressed on both of them, heavy and unspoken.
A quiet resolve settled over him, and she could sense that things were about to change, no more brushing things off or letting them slide.
Whatever was lurking beyond their doors, he was determined to face it head-on, and this time, together.
"You're upset." She could not bear the silence anymore.
"I would say that's quite a bit of understatement.
" He remarked without turning around. Darkness had yet to come, the sun still high, casting its gilded light over the gardens and reflecting on the brilliant blue of the pool.
The grand opening of the pub was slated for Saturday, something he was looking forward to.
"I'm used to handling things by myself."
He turned then and had to force himself not to show the pain, her statement had evoked.
"But you're not alone anymore are you?" he asked evenly. "We're a couple, have been one for more than a year. More than that, you're pregnant with my babies. What if this psycho decides he wants to take a swing at you or worse, drag you into a vehicle? What then?"
Refusing to allow the fear to surface, she lifted her chin. "I'm not helpless. It so happens I can defend myself."
"I keep forgetting how independent you are." The trace of bitterness had her in the defensive.
"You're twisting my words and yes, I'm independent, something you love about me."
"Being independent and being selfish are two different things."
Her brows lifted, eyes flashing. "Selfish? You think I'm selfish?"
"Yes, damn you to bloody hell!" he snapped. "You kept this from me. We're supposed to be a team and yet I had to find out that this, this asshole has been sending you letters from six months ago."
Turning away, he headed towards the door when he heard the bell chimed. Making sure to check it on his phone, he noticed Margo standing on the porch.
"I'll be in the living room, if you want to join us." Without waiting for her to respond, he turned on his heel and left.
Hissing out a breath, Kiara sat where she was for a full two minutes as she tried to assimilate what had just taken place between them. No doubt she had insulted his sensibilities and undermined his authority. She had kept something from him, had broken a sacred part of the couples rule.