Chapter 13 #2
He stood locked to the spot, a frown on his face, his eyes sweeping over the scene. Then, he turned to study the flat once more, as an unpleasant suspicion began to form in his mind. Was it possible this man lived here? Had Elodie moved on that completely, already?
And so what if she had? Didn’t she deserve that? A chance to be happy with someone who could return her love? Was he really going to resent her that?
“Let’s go, Jack.” Fiero stalked towards the door, barely able to meet the other man’s eyes.
He held a hand down to Jack, breathing easier when the little boy put his own in Fiero’s.
“Tell Elodie Emilia will bring him back tomorrow some time.”
“She knows that.” Axel’s disapproval was apparent in every word he spoke.
Fiero narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure she does.” Only the presence of Jack stopped him from doing what he wanted to and giving the other man a hard shove in the chest.
He didn’t bother to say goodbye as he left.
It was either very bad timing or very good timing that Elodie turned the street corner right as Fiero emerged holding Jack. His eyes picked her out of the crowd instantly and without a moment’s hesitation, he carried Jack to the car and passed him to his driver. “Buckle him in, Paul.”
“Yes, sir.”
Elodie hadn’t spotted him yet. She was walking down the street, her head bent, so he had a moment to study her, to see her, and he drank the sight of her in even as blood was pounding in his ears, anger impossible to fight.
Had it really been a month since he’d seen her? She was instantly familiar, but not. There were subtle changes, something was indefinably different about her.
A smile lifted the corner of her lips as she approached her door, and it was the final straw. Was she smiling because of him? Axel? Acid rolled through Fiero.
Had he inadvertently created the perfect situation for them to explore a budding romance by taking Jack out of the equation so often?
The idea revolted him, it was something he fought with every fibre of his being.
Before he knew what he was doing, or what he intended, he strode towards her, and perhaps it was the manner of his approach but she lifted her head, absentmindedly looking in his general direction before startling when her eyes slammed to a stop on his frame.
She stopped walking and stood completely still, the small smile on her lips falling away instantly.
“Oh my God.” She bit down on her lip in that way she had and an ache formed in the pit of his stomach then spread through his whole body.
He had no idea what he’d planned to say to her but face to face with Elodie Gardiner, Fiero found himself momentarily lost for words, so all he could do was stare, emotions firing through him.
“What are you doing here?” Her question was like a blade slicing through his chest.
“I came to collect our son.”
“Where’s Emilia?” The question was immediate. “Is she not well?”
Fiero didn’t want to tell Elodie the truth – that he’d chosen to come because he’d wanted to see her, to prove to himself how over her he was.
He was livid, and he couldn’t say why. He had no right to feel anything for Elodie, nor to care if she had started to date her landlord. What business was it of his?
And yet the idea of her going upstairs to spend the day – and night? – with Axel filled Fiero with an undeniable rage, so he didn’t take the wise course of action and walk away.
“I met your friend.” The words were clipped, but laced with derision.
Elodie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of anger sparking in her own eyes. “Ax?”
“Ax,” he repeated, the word infused with disgust. “I have to tell you, I’m not that happy with a stranger playing the part of daddy to my son.”
Her jaw dropped. She stared at him with undisguised disbelief. “Jack has known Ax all his life. Longer than you,” – she wisely chose not to finish that sentence but she didn’t have to.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Mine,” she snapped, but with exhaustion, and her eyes dropped away from his, her lower lip unsteady, so he felt a sharp burst of worry that she was going to cry.
And despite his rage, he didn’t want her to cry.
He shook his head, but it was too late. When she lifted her face to his, he saw a single tear tracking down her cheek and regret moved inside of him.
“It’s my fault, okay?” She sucked in a deep breath and before he could speak, she added, “Where’s Jack? ”
“In the car.” He looked over his shoulder. “With my driver.”
She nodded, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Well, have a good night.” She made to spin away but Fiero couldn’t let her leave. He reached for her, grabbing her hand to turn her around. A jolt of electricity fired in his veins.
“Don’t go.” The words were hoarse.
“Why not?” Another tear slid down her cheek. “What do you want?”
He wanted for her not to cry. He wanted to somehow stop time and strip away the last month of their lives, to go back to the way things had been the day before she’d left Italy.
But that wasn’t possible. “Are you sleeping with him?”
She recoiled as though he’d pushed her in the chest. “Axel?”
“Yes, Axel. The man who seems so comfortable in your apartment.”
“How dare you?” It was a whisper, but there was strength in it, strength and anger. “Do you think you have any right—,”
“No,” he interrupted, his own voice tortured. “And yes. Jack is my son. If you’re spending serious time with another man, if Jack is spending time with him, I think it’s fair that I should know.”
“Jack loves Axel. They’re great together.”
It was in no way helpful.
“There were wine glasses in your sink. Did he stay over?”
“What are you, a detective now?”
“Unless you’ve taken up daytime drinking…”
“You have absolutely zero right to stand here and ask me this.” She glared at him with fire and fury zipping from her slight frame.
“I haven’t seen you in almost five weeks, after you pretty summarily dismissed me from your life.
And now you show up out of the blue and act like you’re jealous or something? ”
Fiero looked down the street, unsure how to respond to that.
“You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me, right? What a chauvinistic, selfish – do you think I should just spend my life single and pining for you?”
He whipped his head around to face her. “So you are seeing him?”
She glared at him and then took a step backwards, freeing her hand from his. He hadn’t even realised he was still holding her.
“Elodie?” Her name was a plea on his lips, but she wasn’t budging.
“Go to hell, Fiero.”
It wasn’t until Jack was asleep that night that Fiero had any opportunity to give their conversation more thought.
No, it wasn’t that. He’d forced himself to push it to the back of his mind during the day, because he’d wanted to concentrate on Jack, but once the little boy was fast asleep, Fiero found he couldn’t get Elodie off his mind.
He’d gone to her apartment to see her and to prove to himself that he was glad things between them had ended, and instead, he felt like he’d been slammed in the solar plexus.
He swore under his breath, pacing to the balcony and staring out over Kensington Gardens. The evenings were getting cooler and the sun was down, so only a hint of light could be seen, coming from the old fashioned lamp posts that ran through the street.
She hadn’t answered his questions, and she’d been right not to.
She had an excellent point – he had no business asking about her private life.
He had no business expecting her to tell him whatever he wanted to know.
She’d offered herself to him on a silver platter and he’d backed away as quickly as possible.
Because he couldn’t forgive her.
He wouldn’t forgive her. How could he? He’d already missed so much of Jack’s life, and that was her fault. It was her decision that had led to him being absent.
If it were only that, perhaps he could move past it. But even now, the only reason he knew about Jack was because of a freak accident. If she hadn’t been hit by that truck, his son would still be out there, a stranger to him.
Pain shifted inside of him.
Panic, too.
Because he couldn’t forgive Elodie, but the idea of living his life without her in it was like being pushed into a sea of lava.
The pain was immense. What was the alternative?
To find a way to get her back in his life even though he couldn’t forgive her?
That wasn’t fair on her. It wasn’t fair and it would hurt her in the end and he couldn’t do that.
So there was only this.
Separate lives, and that meant she could date whoever the hell she wanted.
He prowled back inside, his legs restless, his chest hurting.
Logically, he knew it was the right decision, but Christo, the idea of that man being in her home right at that very moment was suffocating. He hated to imagine her being with someone else, but she was right on that score too. It was chauvinism, nothing more. It didn’t mean anything.
None of this meant anything, just as he’d said all along.
In the middle of the night though, Fiero awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed, and it was as though someone had poured ice water on him.
He woke up, and the first thing he thought of was his aunt Camilla, who’d been exiled when she’d married a Middle Eastern prince.
He’d never met the woman, and he barely thought of her, but at a few minutes past three o’clock, his mind went to his aunt and everything else seemed to click into place.