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“I loved Terrance too,” I say softly.
His smile fades and he rolls onto his back. For a second I expect him to reach for the blanket on his side of the massive bed and cover himself.
“Not in a let’s get naked sort of way,” I add just in case that’s the part that’s scaring him. I know it’s not, but I want to be clear.
“You might be the only one.”
“Because you never gave anyone else the chance.”
“That’s not true. I tried so fucking hard to please the Masters. I did what the damn bullies told me to do at school.” He speaks through clenched teeth. “I wanted them all to love me. And if I tell everyone the truth now, you know what I’ll get in return? Pity. And I don’t want it.”
“Or respect for your willingness to share your story,” I challenge.
“Yeah, I doubt that.” He rolls off the bed and begins pulling on his clothes. “I’ll take the dogs out. When I get back, we can go over your lists. I want to be ready for the contractors. We should get them started on the exterior work before winter.”
“Okay.” I draw out the word, caught off guard by the abrupt change. It feels as if he slammed a door in my face. But I can’t force him to talk about his past. Just like I can’t make him change the way he sees himself.
I can control whether I let him walk away with my heart. And I can still enforce rule number six—we decide when we end this charade. Of course first we need to deal with his blackmailing ex.
Maybe I know who she is …
The idea floats in as if it has always been there. I know Gavin’s past better than anyone. If I did a little digging of my own, instead of relying on Margaret and her team of private investigators, maybe I’ll find the missing pieces to the puzzle. I have a lot more riding on this than the investigators.
Every day I stay in this relationship, it becomes harder and harder to image leaving. In another week, I might wonder if I could live in Gavin’s world. I might consider becoming a piece of the lie he’s built.
But what happens in a few months or years when I realize that I fell for a man who values image above everything?
“Gavin?”
He buttons up his jeans and looks at me. His sculpted torso is on full display, tempting me to abandon my question.
I pull the comforter tighter and ask, “Where in Greece did Sophia Galanos live?”
“One of the islands, I think.” He pulls on his shirt and places his hands on his hips. “Why?”
“Just curious,” I say. “Trying to piece this puzzle together so we can put a stop to this mess.”
He gives a curt nod and heads for the door. He pauses in the doorway and turns to me. “Thank you. I really appreciate … everything.”
Then he walks away. I have no idea if “everything” includes the amazing sex, my willingness to move my dogs into his homes, my fake fiancée scheme, or all of the above. And right now it doesn’t matter because I have an idea. And I think Sophia Galanos might be the key.
He remembers the trauma and bullies from when we were young. A child’s hope taints his memory of the social worker’s visits. He would beg to be removed from his foster home and the school where the other boys picked on him. But he couldn’t make Sophia Galanos believe him.
I know because I was there once when she came over. I saw it through a child’s eyes too, but I think I remember more. I can picture every person in the room. And if I’m right, we’ve met Alexandra before.
CHAPTER 22
GAVIN
“I understand why Kayla likes having you guys around,” I say to the four dogs surrounding me. “You’re good company.”
There are no pressing questions out here, leading the K-9 herd through the mowed grass. I don’t feel the need to have a deep conversation about the meaning of sex. And yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure that is what just happened in my bedroom. We had mind-blowing sex. Hell, I was already picturing ways to bind her to the damn leather headboard my decorator installed in my room. Mrs. Architectural-Digest-Is-My-Life never envisioned I would want a bed suitable for a little playful bondage.
And then Kayla asks about my call with her mother.
“I can’t tell her the truth,” I say. Rocky glances back at me. The others are off sniffing the grass for that illusive perfect place to pee. “How the hell do I tell Kayla that I want to stop pretending? When this is all over with fucking Alexandra, how do I tell her that when she’s still worried she’ll get lost in my fucking shadow?”
Yeah, I know the dogs don’t understand a word I’m saying, but they are staring at me now. Something about the desperation in my voice must have caught their attention. Or maybe it was the curse words. They don’t hear those from Kayla.
