Despite our conversation, I still saw the irritation on his face. “Wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Your asshole ex.”
“Sorry about?—”
“I’m not mad at you, Eva. I wanted to pummel the shit out of your ex.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “He’s a violent person with no boundaries or self-control. I saw it in his eyes. I know what that looks like.”
Covering his hands with mine, I tried to soothe his anger.
“He gets violent when he’s drunk, but he didn’t seem drunk earlier.”
“Maybe it’s just an excuse to act out.” His lips thinned into a flat line. “Did he ever?—”
“No,” I said. “He never got the chance to hurt me like that. The closest was him shoving me against the wall.”
He clenched a fist, and I imagined all the deadly scenarios swirling in his mind. Dennis was a mistake I would never make again.
“Tell me about him. I want to know your history with him.” He led me back to the living room toward a forest-green couch with plush cushions.
“Then I want to know your history too.” I sat beside him. “How many women have you dated? How many women have come to your penthouse?”
“One woman came to my penthouse, but she never got to stay the night.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s the interior designer who decorated thisplace.” He leaned back onto the cushion, tucking both hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. “Off the top of my head, I dated five women, but they lasted only months.”
“Two months,” I corrected, as though the information I got from the internet could be trusted, but I didn’t care.
He arched an eyebrow but made no comment.
“Only five?” I asked, not fully believing him.
“That number doesn’t include casual encounters.” He sat back up. “I wasn’t looking for anything serious because I was focused on my career. But you’re different, Eva.” Shifting, he gripped my chin so I could look into his eyes. “Everythingabout you pulls at me. I’ve wanted no one as much as I want you.”
His confession forced me to release a suppressed breath.
“When I saw Dennis with his hands on you and the fear on your face, I lost it.” His jaw tightened. “A man who treats a woman like that deserves to die. Eventually, he’ll do something that’s irredeemable.”
The anger in his voice told me he’d witnessed something he couldn’t forget.
“Have you encountered men like him?”
“My father,” he said, staring at the rug on the floor.
My chest ached at his expression. But before I could ask if his dad ever hit him, Kain continued, “He used to beat my mother whenever he got drunk. He had a weird trigger where, if the house was in disarray, he’d hit her. When I was home, I stopped him.” He looked at me and saw my question. “I was never hit unless it was fighting back when I retaliated for my mother.” He shrugged. “Maybe he saw women as lesser humans.”
“Where is your mom?”
“She died.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” My heart ached for him. “Where’s your dad? Did he go to prison?”
“He’s dead.” Kain looked at me, and I saw something unapologetic in his eyes. “I killed him when he battered her like some animal. Her ribs and legs were broken. She was bruised all over. Her lung collapsed with severe internal bleeding.” He choked, and I squeezed his hand, wanting him to know I was here for him.
Emotions surged in me, and I couldn’t contain my sorrow. Tears streamed down my face, wanting to remove all the pain he’d endured.
“If she had gone to the hospital on time, she would’ve made it. He left her beaten body on the floor of our house for days.” He sighed. “Even if she had survived, it would’ve taken her a long time to recover from that horror.”
