Chapter 31
TIFFANY
Ican’t believe I did that. When I woke and Joseph was gone, I was bereft.
It hurt that he wasn’t there. I loved knowing he was beside me, and I wasted no time in searching for him.
It took a while too. His house is enormous, set on four floors.
I drifted through the impersonal rooms, pristine like a show home, and with every step it revealed a lot about the man who locks himself away from the world.
The thump of the music directed me to the basement, and when I saw him, something electric passed through my body. He is a god. A slick muscle machine of power. His body was coated in sweat, his loud grunts of pain as he lifted the weights almost animalistic.
My beast.
My gorgeous, maniacal beast, who wears his pain in plain sight, closed to the world, unemotional and lost.
I noticed the tattoo of a name resting above his heart and stole a brief glance.
Zac with an arrow passing between the letters.
I wonder who Zac is? Did he love him? Was it his first kill, perhaps? I wouldn’t put it past the man to wear the names of his victims as a badge of honor on his skin. His enemies, perhaps.
But from what I can see, there are no other names inked on his skin.
Merely skulls, demons, and words, thorns, and daggers.
His skin is a turbulent mass of nightmares, the Grim Reaper a particularly sinister one that causes me to shiver.
His dark beauty attracts rather than repels, and his arms and torso are almost entirely covered by turbulent black ink.
The power of the man is an impossible attraction and gives me bravery on a subject I know nothing about. When he is inside me, it empties my mind of nothing but him. The way he holds me securely, protectively, even as he thrusts inside my body, stealing what he needs from me, giving me more back.
We are two lost souls who work well together, physically anyway; mentally, I’m not so sure.
* * *
As I head to meet him in the dining room for breakfast, my skin glows from the shower, my hair slightly damp, the perfume I chose a fresh floral scent. Nobody would suspect how I just offered myself to my husband on a plate.
He is already waiting, and as Mrs. Harrington smiles her welcome as she pours him some coffee, I must blush because the knowing expression in her eye tells me I must be a walking advert for the just-fucked look.
She smiles. “I’ll fetch you a pot of tea, Mrs. Ravera.”
“Please call me Tiffany.”
My smile is a warm one, and she nods respectfully but says nothing, and I guess she won’t change a thing. She is the most respectful woman I have ever met and takes her duty seriously with a kindness that is certainly appreciated by me.
My attention turns to my husband and, as always, a thrill passes through me whenever I glance his way.
He has showered and is wearing his customary black shirt tucked into black trousers with a leather belt circling his hips.
The dark script peers out from his open neck, and the gold chain that nestles there is the only adornment he requires, save for his wristwatch and wedding ring.
“We have a busy day.”
He sips his coffee while staring at me with dark intent, causing desire to race through my body like a sprinter heading for the winning line.
“I have lunch with Eliza.” I remind him, and he nods, not appearing very happy about that.
“And dinner with my mother.”
My mouth drops. “Your mother?”
“Yes. She flew in this morning and has requested it.”
“I see.”
I’m slightly nervous about that, and I’m surprised when he reaches for my hand.
“You will love her.”
I smile, loving how our hands fit together perfectly, loving the growing intimacy we share, something that has surprised me more than anything.
“Why is she here?”
I’m mildly curious, and yet something in his expression mystifies me.
“Perhaps we should ask her.”
“Don’t you know?”
I don’t believe that for a second because Joseph appears to be aware of everything before it even happens.
“I have my suspicions, and it’s not the shopping trip she speaks about.”
“There are shops in New York.”
“Which is why I suspect she is shopping for something unavailable there.”
“You’re a strange man, Joseph.”
I squeeze his hand gently, reluctant to break contact, even for a second.
“Thank you.”
His eyes flash and for some reason his smile catches me unaware. It drains the rage from him and eases his frown. I wonder when Beauty became the Beast? What made him this way?
“Tell me about Su Yin.”
It’s a question I have ached to ask, and he withdraws his hand, causing me instant regret.
“She came highly recommended. By my therapist.”
“You needed therapy for–” I’m probing without really expecting an answer.
“For my nightmares.” He states simply.
“And therapy didn’t help.”
“Not even close.”
He butters some toast, his attention diverting to the simple act.
“I believe my therapist’s words were, I can no longer help you, but I may know someone who can.”
He smiles and I forget to breathe. How can one man be so charismatic?
“I met Su Yin in a hotel in Soho.”
I raise my eyes, and he chuckles softly. I love this lighter side of him; it’s addictive, and I lean forward as he smiles gently.
“She wasted no time, and I left having revealed more than I have ever done before. It was cleansing, a little uncomfortable, and yet it gave me a moment of peace I clung onto.”
He stops as Mrs. Harrington arrives with the tea, and only after she leaves does he pick up the conversation.
“Our visits switched here; the black room was her suggestion.”
“It was a good one.”
Even I must admit I experience peace in there.
“It was. It’s become my sanctuary, and her visits help.”
“Do you think she can help me?”
I ask an innocent question, more for a reaction than anything, and I’m surprised at the anger on his face.
“You have me for that, angel. Tell me your darkest secrets, and I will make them mine. Offload your demons onto my shoulders, and I will bear the weight. Do not be afraid of life all the time I am by your side. I am your dark knight, your savior, and your cross to bear.”
His intense gaze belies his sudden smile, and I shiver inside. It’s at moments like this I see the darkness in him. The one that enables him to do anything any normal person would believe sinful.
I sip my tea, wondering if many married couples have conversations like this, and I’m surprised when he pushes back his plate and sighs.
“I must meet with Spencer and take a call from my father. The morning is yours.”
“Can I go out?” I’m mildly excited for that, and he shakes his head.
“Of course not. You are still a huge target—remember.”
He reminds me of the surrounding chains that hold me captive, and I die a little inside.
“It’s fine. I’ll search this house for clues to your personality and use them against you. It will be a good use of my time.”
“Good luck with that.”
He actually winks as he drops a light kiss on my lips, causing a shiver of delight to ripple through my body.
“Thank you.” He whispers and then smirks. “I could get used to gym sessions like that. You have been warned.”
“I do gym well.”
This time I wink, and his sudden smile pierces my heart. How can I help him? It’s obvious he’s suffering, and yet as his expression returns to the usual blank one, he leaves the room empty and cold.