Chapter Eleven
Aurelia
The days tick by. Marcus and Wren are getting married on Saturday, so most of the week revolves around that.
Wren’s very nervous that it’s going to develop into a full-scale royal wedding, so I intercede between her and my mother, who would love to bump everything up to eleven, and try to encourage her to tone it down a bit.
I’m glad I’m busy, because it takes my mind off the events of the weekend. What happened with Ivan shocked me. It wasn’t as if he was pushy or aggressive in any way. Quite the opposite. But when it came to it, I just couldn’t go through with it.
Maybe, deep down, I was conscious that I only really agreed to go back to his place because I wanted comfort, not sex.
Oddly, I think he’d have been happy offering that, but by that stage I was embarrassed and just wanted to get home.
He’s asked to meet me again, but I don’t think I’m going to.
It’s not his fault. I’m just not in a good place right now, and he deserves better.
The incident with the two guys while I was waiting for the Uber also shook me up.
I didn’t tell Luke the whole story because he’d have popped a blood vessel, but they stopped to talk to me and, even when I made it quite clear I wasn’t interested and wanted them to move on, they didn’t go.
Instead, they moved closer, and one of them started playing with my hair, while the other put his arm around me.
I freaked out and was about to scream when the Uber pulled up, so I was able to get in.
What really shocked me was how vulnerable I felt.
I’ve grown used to the fact that most people, especially men, are taller than me, but I’ve never felt threatened before.
I’m always surrounded by friends and family, and maybe it’s a bit of luck too, but I’ve never had a man make unwanted advances on me, not like that.
I’ve always been confident that I’d be able to deal with it, but when it came to it, I was surprised how afraid I was.
Maybe it was coming on the back of leaving Ivan, but it’s left me feeling very unsure of myself.
Outwardly, I’m the same old Aurelia, pinning a smile on her face, parading in front of the camera, and meeting and greeting with the same effervescent spirit I’ve always had. Inside, though, I’m not feeling myself at all. And the only person who gets to see that is Luke.
I suppose it’s because he’s with me when I’m off duty—first thing in the morning, when I haven’t yet had time to put on my public persona, in between meetings, and at the end of the day, when I’m tired and unwinding.
After his initial attempt to comfort me in the gym, he’s remained more reserved, but I feel as if he’s seen behind the curtain.
I showed my vulnerable side to him, and since then I feel he watches me in a different way, not just as the principal he’s trying to keep safe, but because he’s worried about me.
He often asks if I’m okay, and he’s tried to encourage me to talk a few times.
But I’m wary of opening up again. I don’t like being vulnerable.
And I don’t want to rely on a man to keep me safe, physically or emotionally.
Instead, once I discover he’s been trained in a variety of martial arts, I ask him to show me more than basic self-defense moves.
This time, he doesn’t object. “The idea is to neutralize a threat for long enough to make a safe escape, not to reenact a Marvel movie,” he warns.
When I assure him I understand, he continues, “Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu moves can allow a smaller, weaker person to control and subdue a heavier attacker. We’ll start there. ”
First, I learn about base and balance, and keeping a lower center of gravity. Then he announces he’s teaching me shrimping.
“We’re going fishing?” I ask.
His lips curve up. “It’s a hip and elbow escape. Moving your hips backward across the mat.” He drops to the floor and illustrates what he means.
I giggle. “Real elegant.”
“Self-defense isn’t about being elegant, princess. Come on. Show me what you got.”
I sigh and get down beside him, and copy his movements.
“That’s it,” he says. “If an attacker gets on top of you, it’s about creating space between you and him.”
“I see. I think.”
He hesitates. Then he sighs and moves across the mat toward me. “All right. Let’s try it. Lie back.”
I do as he bids. Then I gasp as he lifts his knee across and straddles me.
I blink. “Whoa.” He’s so big, and his arms are like tree trunks as he leans over me, looking down. My heart races, and I don’t know if it’s from excitement or fear. Maybe both. I like being so close to him… but it also emphasizes how vulnerable I’d be if someone were to attack me.
“Tell me to stop,” he states, “anytime you want, and I’ll stop immediately.”
I nod.
“Okay. An attacker crowds you,” he says.
“Gets up close and personal. For you it’s all about creating space.
First you’re going to create a frame. Put your arms here…
and here… try to create a bridge to stop me driving pressure downward.
That’s it. Now you’re going to shrimp. Use your hips to wiggle backward.
Good. Again. Now you have space to get your knee in and push up. ”
We try it over and over again. Gradually, I relax into it, getting used to the positions and having his hands on me. It’s intimate, but it’s only as time goes on that I understand he’s not being sexual. He truly wants to help me learn to defend myself.
And I start to understand something that disturbs me deeply.
Being with Dom for so long had led to me associating touch with sex and power.
I’d always assumed they were inextricably linked.
And I thought it was normal for a woman to feel that way with men, which was why I agreed to meet him again.
I didn’t see anything wrong with how he treated me.
Maybe I even missed it, a little. He’d trained me to miss it.
God, that hits hard.
Suddenly overcome with emotion, I look up at Luke where he’s leaning over me and plead, “Can we stop?”
Immediately, he releases me, lifts off, and moves back. “Are you okay?”
I sit up and scramble back a few feet, until my back is against the wall. I nod, but I’m clearly not. I’m breathing fast, and I’m struggling to hold back tears.
“Hey.” He moves closer, sitting against the wall with me, but staying a foot away. “What’s the matter?”
I take a deep, shivery breath. “I think I’m broken.” I give a small smile, trying to turn it into a joke, but it’s obviously clear it’s not.
He frowns. “Of course you’re not.”
I press trembling fingers to my lips, unable to answer.
“Aurelia,” he says firmly, “you’re not broken, and you’re not helpless.” He bends his head so he can look into my eyes. “I’m going to teach you how to control how close a man gets to you.”
I blow out a breath, touched that he understands how I’m feeling. “Okay.”
“He’s not going to be able to hurt you again,” he says.
“He?”
“Dominic.”
Eventually, I manage to whisper, “What did he tell you?”
His expression is hard and unyielding. “He didn’t tell me anything. But he implied that he did things that you didn’t want done.”
My eyes blur, and I fight to keep the emotion in. There are only a couple of other people in the gym, but I still don’t want to bawl my eyes out.
Suddenly I know that, despite being a man, Luke is the only person I can talk to who’ll understand.
“He liked to restrain me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply for a moment. We sit there quietly, both of us breathing hard.
“How?” he asks eventually.
“At first it was vaguely romantic. Scarves. Ties. Eventually he bought equipment—leather bands with buckles, and handcuffs.”
Luke draws his knees up and rests his elbows on them. He studies his hands. I wonder whether he’s thinking about how he’d like to strangle Dom.
“I said yes,” I continue, my voice low. “Because I knew he liked it. And I didn’t not like it, if that makes sense. But it got where that’s all he wanted to do.”
The only sign that Luke has heard me is the way he clenches his hands into fists. I should stop, but I can’t now I’ve started.
“Toward the end, I started asking if we could do other things. We argued about it. And I realized that when we fought, it excited him. He wanted me to fight him. Because then… he could restrain me against my will.”
“Fuck.” He sinks his hands into his hair. “He forced you?”
“No, no…”
“Aurelia,” he says firmly, “did he have sex with you against your will?”
There’s a long silence.
“It’s complicated,” I whisper. “I didn’t say no. I didn’t scream at him to stop. I think he thought I was enjoying it.”
Once again, we’re both quiet for a long time.
“Don’t be mad at me,” I murmur after a while.
He looks at me then, and I’m relieved to see his expression is gentle. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re mad at Dominic?”
“I want to cut the bastard’s dick off and stuff it down his throat.”
I give a short laugh and wipe beneath my eyes. “That’s a yes?”
He gives a long, frustrated sigh.
“You don’t understand,” I say softly. “Why I didn’t scream. Why I never reported him. And why I met him for lunch.”
He doesn’t reply, but I know I’m right.
I look at my hands. “Dominic was my first.”
“Ohhh…”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.
” But I do know. I want him to understand why I’ve made such bad decisions.
“The main reason I walked out was because of the way he wanted to control everything about me, not just in the bedroom. I know it sounds strange, but I wanted to please him, I guess. I loved him, for a while. I wanted to be a good girlfriend.”
“Jesus, please stop. You’re breaking my heart.”
I swallow hard. He looks genuinely upset.
“You should report him,” he says fiercely. “He deserves to be banged up for treating you like that.”