Chapter 11
"It's over?" Kiara reached out blindly to grip Oscar's hand.
"It is," Margo assured her with a smile. "He's in intensive care right now, the infection has spread to several areas."
"Is he-- will he die?"
"The doctors are not holding out much hope."
"It saves me the trouble of killing him myself."
"Oscar--"
"I read his file, the one you sent me. He was a victim," Kiara cut off Margo's warning and had Oscar staring at her in shock.
"No. Don't tell me you feel sorry for the bastard. He made your life a living hell."
"And I can relate to a child being bullied and influenced by an abusive mother." She shook her head when he opened his mouth to respond. "I say I can relate, not that I'm making excuses for him." She squeezed his hand.
"He's asking to see you." That was the part she had dreaded and had at first said no.
"Not a chance in hell."
Margo looked at Oscar. "You expressed an interest in seeing him as well."
"I wanted to look the bastard in the eyes and let him know he failed. Kiara does not need to face him."
"Kiara can speak for herself, and I think I should go."
"No." His tone was definitive, expression resolute. "You don't need the added stress. You're carrying twins and it happens to be a high risk pregnancy. Over the past few days, you've been bloody sick. I won't have you stressing out."
"I'm going to be more stressed if you continue to block me. I happen to have a mind of my own and I was the one being stalked by this creep." She looked at Margo. "Make the arrangements, please."
"Would you excuse us for a minute?"
"Of course." Happy to escape, Margo rose and made her way out.
"I know what you're going to say--"
"I bet you don't." He rose and started pacing the length of the living room, his expression stormy.
"You think I'm fragile. That I'm a victim."
"You're a bloody victim!"
"Don't shout at me, I have excellent hearing." Her voice was stiff and for a moment reminded him of what she must have sounded like in front of her students.
"Then hear this. You're not going."
"What? Are you going to tie me to the bed?" Her hackles rose as she glared at him.
"If necessary. Those babies you're carrying are mine."
Anger sparked and flooded her with heat. "So what? You're protecting your interest?"
"If that's the way you want to put it then bloody yes." He marched over to haul her to her feet, his grip punishing. "I went through hell when I heard you were almost shot."
"Ever since the bastard started getting more intense in his pursuit of you, I've not had a moment's rest. I hope he fricking dies. And I hope he suffers acute agony and burns in hell for putting you through what he did."
"Whether you like it or not, I am going to protect you and I say you're not going to see him."
"Let go of me." Her voice was calm, indicating that she was struggling to hold onto her formidable temper. "I spent years being manipulated by my mother and I refuse to have you doing so now."
"You don't ask, you demand and expect me to fall in line. Well, I won't have it." She shoved hard enough to push him back. "I'm going upstairs and don't even think about following me."
"Kiara--"
"Go to hell," she retorted before storming out.
Oscar watched her go, his fists clenching at his sides.
The argument hung heavy in the air, unresolved and raw.
He wanted to chase after her, to insist she see reason, but for once he forced himself to stay put.
The fear for Kiara, and for the future he desperately wanted with her, made him feel powerless, his anger mingling uneasily with love.
"I'd say you blew that all to hell." Eric stepped into the room and gave his friend a sympathetic look. "I'm no expert on relationships, but I think you should let her simmer for a while."
Blowing out a breath, Oscar went straight to the liquor cabinet. "I thought you'd left."
"I was talking with Margo and badgering Irene for some baked cookies." He eyed the scotch his friend had poured and lifted a brow.
Pouring a second glass, Oscar handed it to him.
"She thinks I'm being unreasonable and accused me of being manipulative. She compared me to her mother." He grimaced and took a sip. "That was a low blow. Why the hell would she want to see him?" He wondered.
"To get some sort of closure, I imagine." Eric sat and sipped the excellent scotch. "What's your excuse?"
"I want to look into his eyes and see for myself that it's really over. We've spent several months being tortured by this bastard, I want to put it to bed."
"And you don't think she wants the same?"
"She's pregnant."
"And you want to protect her." Eric shook his head. "Understandable, but you have to remember the type of woman you hooked up with. She was forced to assert herself and stand up to a mother who puts her down at every turn. She does not need that type of behavior from you."
Oscar wanted to disagree, but his friend was right. "My default mode is protecting her."
"Yeah, I get that."
He stared down into his glass, the amber liquid swirling as his thoughts churned. "But protecting her sometimes feels like the only thing I can do." He struggled to find the words, his voice quieter now. "I just-- I can't stand the idea of anything happening to her again. Not after everything."
"You should tell her that and try making the decisions with her instead of for her." Eric grinned. "Like I said, I'm no expert at the relationship bit, but I think I know enough."
"See yourself out." Tossing back the rest of the drink, Oscar left the room.
Whenever she was this angry, she either poured herself into her writing or took a long hot bath.
Since she wasn't in the mood for writing, then naturally, it would be the bath.
Deliberately keeping her mind clear of all negative thoughts and emotions, she selected the necessary implements.
A fruity bath oil Oscar had brought back from Ireland for her and some calming beads.
Pouring everything into the warm water, she added cinnamon and rosemary as well. Testing the temperature, she went into her office for a bottle of non-alcoholic Costa Indulgence she had picked up from her trip to Spain when doing research a year ago.
Stripping off her clothes, she poured the wine. Putting the glass on the wide lip of the tub, she lowered herself and sank down, inhaling the soothing scents as the water swirled around her. She would calm her mind, cleanse it with the mood candles she had lit.
Leaning her head back on the padding, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax and not think about men. They were the bane of her existence.
One would think that this was good news. The bastard who had been a threat to her was laid up on a hospital bed, dying. So, what if she wanted to go and see him? What if she actually felt sorry for the poor sick son of a bitch? Wasn't she entitled to her feelings?
Feeling the anger surfacing again, she reached for the glass and took a sip. She tried to convince herself that feeling compassion didn't make her weak. It just made her human. Still, the conflict churned inside her, mixing guilt with resentment until she wasn't sure which one was stronger.
Maybe seeing him would bring some kind of peace, even if it was only a small piece. She deserved to find her own closure, on her own terms.
She had accused Oscar of being like her mother and she had meant it at the time, but now the guilt was there, replaced by the anger.
He was nothing like her of course. She had said all of that to hurt him.
Sighing, she took another sip of wine and was about to put the glass down when she noticed him standing just inside the doorway.
Unwilling to forgive him just yet, she glared. "Go away."
"I'm here to apologize." Ignoring the killing look she threw at him, he walked into the room. Sitting on the lip of the bath, he took the sponge and started to rub her shoulders.
"I'm an idiot."
"Damn straight."
He figured it was a good sign that she was not resisting his help.
"I'm possessive."
"And arrogant."
"That too." He continued to move the sponge across her back and shoulders.
"As well as an ass."
He pretended to contemplate that for a bit as he ran the sponge over the tops of her breasts. "Sometimes."
"Most of the time."
His mouth tightened slightly. "I'm trying to apologize here."
"Who's stopping you?"
His eyes met hers as he fought to control his temper. "I'm sorry for loving you so much that I feel the need to try and protect you."
Her brows shot up. "That's your idea of an apology?"
"I did nothing to apologize for." He ran the sponge slowly over her nipple, eyes holding hers.
"I don't need your help. Just go away and let me enjoy my bath in peace." She tried to sound rough but failed miserably. He was doing something to her nipple and sending shards of desire spearing through her.
"Do you really want me to?" The sponge dipped lower, moving over her quivering stomach with purpose.
"Yes. Damn you."
"You and these babies are my life. I would do anything to keep you safe. All of you." His arms dipped lower and had the breath whistling through her lips. "I don't like it when you're mad at me."
"Then stop trying to run my life. Damn you, stop!" She gripped his wrist, fingers digging into his flesh.
"Not yet." He slid down and went on his knees. Using the sponge, he smoothed it over the swollen flesh and had her moaning.
"You want me."
"I hate you," she whispered, head going back as she closed her eyes.
"You still want me. And you can never hate me."
"Don't be too sure." She opened her thighs wider.
"Tell me you want me," he demanded harshly.
"I-- God!" Her body shuddered as the climax slammed into her with force. "Oscar."
"Tell me you want me."
"Damn you. I want you," she whispered huskily. "I want you."
"Okay." Rising, he made short work of getting rid of his clothes and stepping in. Suds swirled, the water dripping over the side of the bath as he slid in behind her.