Chapter 9 #3
But his eyes were on her face, scanning her features, reading every feeling and thought. “Are you?”
She looked away from him, the lie caught in her mouth. He stood, coming to stand in front of her, close, so close she tasted him in her mouth when she inhaled. “You’re running away.”
She didn’t respond.
“You’re angry with me because I didn’t answer your question and now you’re running away.”
“No,” she contradicted after a moment, her voice hushed so Jack wouldn’t pick up on the tone of their conversation.
“You’re the one who’s running away. I have every right to ask about your marriage.
” Her eyes flashed and anger surged inside of her.
She was grateful to that emotion, grateful to feel something other than hurt.
“But you clam up whenever I try to get beneath the surface. You have made running away an art form.”
Surprise showed in his face. “My marriage was between Alison and me. I don’t feel comfortable discussing it.”
“With me.”
“With anyone.”
“So you’re fine to sleep with me in the death throes of your marriage but not to tell me why it ended? You’re right – that would be a real betrayal.”
The flesh at the base of his jaw shifted, as he ground his teeth together. “My marriage was over.”
“Not legally.”
“No.”
“Did she know about me? Did you tell her about that night?”
His eyes flared. “No.”
“Because you knew what we did was wrong. You didn’t want to tell her.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her,” he corrected.
“But you hurt me.”
His eyes widened and she looked away, the breeze lifting her hair, pulling it across her face. He lifted a hand and brushed it, tucking it behind her ear. “I know.”
Pain sliced through Elodie. She took a small step backwards, to break the spell of their conversation, the proximity of their bodies.
His eyes were locked to hers in a silent but unmistakable battle of the wills.
She refused to look away, but her anger was still there, pushing at her flesh from the inside out. “How come you didn’t tell me who you were?”
“My marriage wasn’t relevant.”
“Liar,” she scoffed, shaking her head, forcing herself to whisper when she remembered Jack was right by them. “And that’s not what I mean. Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “You gave me your first name, not your last.”
His expression didn’t shift but something in his eyes twisted, a darkness, a coldness, a doubt, that pricked at her belly. “That didn’t seem relevant either.”
She glared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
“No?”
“I’ve had a long time to think about this.
Three years, in fact.” Her eyes sparked with his, hurt in the depths of hers.
“You went out of your way not to tell me who you were. At any point you could have mentioned your family, your job, the fact you’re one of the richest men in the world.
” She swallowed back her resentment. “You didn’t, and I think it’s because you didn’t want me to know.
A simple google search of your name brought up thousands of photos of you and your wife.
It was likely that if I knew you were a Montebello I would have put two and two together and realised you were married. ”
He watched her with a stony silence.
“You chose not to tell me who you were because you thought I might realise you were married and put an end to what we were doing. And I would have.” Tears sparked on her lashes.
“Damn you, Fiero, I would have. What right did you have to take that choice from me? To lie to me and put me in the position of being the other woman?”
“My marriage was,” – he didn’t get to finish the sentence.
“Over, you keep saying that, but it wasn’t, or you would have been honest with me.
You would have told me your name, and the fact you were in the midst of getting divorced.
You would have told me about your grandfather.
But it was always going to be just a one-night stand for you – an illicit bit of fun on the side with no strings, no complications, no consequences. Right?”
He looked away from her, his expression impossible to interpret.
“That’s why you crept out while I was still asleep.”
“I took precautions. And I left a note,” he muttered. “And a clear way for you to contact me.”
“But you were glad when I didn’t, right?”
He didn’t answer; he didn’t need to. She knew she was right.
“You got what you wanted. I gave that to you. No strings. No ramifications of that night.”
“You think I would have chosen this?” He demanded, jerking his eyes back to hers. “You think I would have chosen not to know my son?”
She looked towards Jack for a moment. He’d found a line of ladybugs on the bench and was crouching down studying them, his expression intent.
Love burst through her, but it was a sad love, because he didn’t deserve this – to be pulled between two parents as she suspected he was going to be.
“No. Neither of us would have chosen this, Fiero.” Tears made her voice uneven. “I love Jack with all my heart but, oh my God, please believe me when I tell you I wish I’d never met you.”