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Nic, Bob, Geoffrey—and all the others gathered there—stared at him in trepidation. It made him realize just how angry, and vile, he’d been to all of them since the theft was discovered.
“Go home,” he told them gruffly. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”
“Home?” Geoffrey repeated, as if it was a concept utterly foreign to him.
“We’ve been at this for days, pretty much nonstop. Go home, get some sleep, relax a little. We’ll pick it up in the morning.”
“Who are you?” Nic demanded. But Marc noticed that his brother shoved away from the table pretty damn quickly.
“The damage has already been done, right? I want two extra guards stationed on the vault floor—one right outside the vault and an extra guard running patrol and—weakness or not—the vault should be okay for another night, right?”
They nearly tripped over themselves agreeing with him.
“Okay, then. Go home and I’ll see you back here at 7 a.m.”
Before they could say anything else, he turned on his heel and strode out. He had something important to do and it was already days—years—overdue.
Nineteen
Isa woke up from a fitful sleep at the first round of violent pounding on her front door. Fumbling for her phone—just in case she had to call 9-1-1—she glanced at the time. One o’clock. Who on earth was at her door at one in the morning?
Snatching her robe from the chair by her bed, she shrugged it on as she made her way cautiously to her front door. A look through the window told her Marc was her middle-of-the-night visitor. He looked better than he had any right to, especially considering how haggard and exhausted she knew she must look.
Their gazes met through the glass and for a second she was mesmerized by the look in his eyes. But then her sense of self-preservation kicked in and she yanked her gaze away—at the same time she took a couple steps back. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to talk to him or even look at him. Not now, when the wounds were still so fresh. Not now, when it still hurt to breathe.
Marc must have read her intention on her face, though, because the pounding doubled. And then he started to call to her. “Open the door, Isa. Please. I just want to talk to you.”
She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her anymore, backed away a few more steps. She didn’t want to see him—couldn’t see him. It hurt too much. Even knowing that she was responsible for his distrust, that she’d brought all of this on herself with how she’d behaved six years ago, didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
“Damn it, Isa, please! I just want to talk to you.”
But she didn’t want to talk to him. She couldn’t handle any more accusations, couldn’t handle him looking at her as if she was trash. Or worse, as if she’d ripped out his heart. She hadn’t done it, hadn’t stolen the jewels, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty. Not when she’d been responsible for so much of what had happened to him, and Bijoux, six years ago.
“Isa! Please! I’m sorry.” For the first time, his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry. Please let me in.”
It hurt her to hear him sound so broken. Before she could think better of it, she cleared her throat, told him, “Go away, Marc. This isn’t helping anyone.”
“Isa, please. You have every right to hate me, every right to be angry with me. But please, I’m begging of you, don’t send me away.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. He sounded so different from the man she’d spoken to on Wednesday that it broke her heart all over again. She couldn’t stand to hear the pain in his voice, couldn’t stand to hear him beg when she’d been the one to hurt him so badly that he’d never be able to trust her again.
Her body moved before her mind made a conscious decision, sliding the dead bolt back and taking the chain off and opening the door to him. To Marc. The only man she’d ever loved.
The only man she’d ever hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he told her the moment they were face-to-face. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she told him, stepping back to let him in the house. “I assume you’ve found the thief?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet.”
His words didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand. If you don’t know who did it, why are you here?”
“Because I know it wasn’t you. Because I’m an asshole who let the pain of the past blind him to the woman you’ve become, the woman you are now.”
She stared at him stupidly. She could hear what he was saying, but she couldn’t comprehend it. Not when it was so far from what she’d expected. So far from anything in their experience so far.
