Page 183 of Captive Ruin

This is awkward. It’s all so stilted. He is shit at apologizing.

Watching him reach for it is somehow worse than if he’d said nothing at all.

He stares for a long time at the floor, then speaks again. “I should never have put cameras in your apartment.”

I can’t keep quiet on that one. “Damn right you shouldn’t.”

He opens his mouth as though he’s going to defend himself, hesitates, then closes it again. He still hasn’t looked at me.

“I won’t apologize for bringing you here.”

“Oh, was that it?” I ask. As apologies go, it ranks right up there with a ‘we attempted delivery’ card. “If you’re done, explain how that’s the one you’re not sorry for?”

“I’d do it again,” he says immediately. “It was the only way I could keep you safe.”

I press my lips together, glaring at him. It’s difficult to disagree when I can’t think of another option, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.

“But I am sorry about abandoning you,” he adds.

“Over Christmas,” I point out. “And for weeks at a time.”

He doesn’t argue. “You’re right. That was my worst mistake.”

He has a lot to choose from, but I almost agree with him. That was the hardest time.

“I thought you were safe,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “If I’d known the damage it would do to you…”

“What did you think would happen?” I throw at him. “You left me in a house full of strangers, unable to leave, unable to even contact the outside world. Not even a goddamn phone!” And in a house where his wife committed suicide. But I can’t bring myself to add that.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I didn’t realize until it was…” He lets out a ragged breath. “…almost too late.”

I have no comeback to that.

For the first time since he started talking, he meets my gaze, his eyes dark and full of sorrow. “Walking in on you, lying there… it will haunt me forever.”

Now it’s on me to apologize. That reversed quickly.

“I’m sorry,” I say with feeling, if only to show him how it’s done. “It won’t happen again.” Of that, I’m reasonably sure. I tried it, didn’t like it, and it didn’t stick. More to the point, I was glad to wake up, even if this is the life I woke up to.

He raises a hand to stop me. “No, please don’t. It’s not on you, it’s on me. I am the one that’s sorry, Amelia. More sorry than you will ever know.”

Unlike the others, that actually sounded like he meant it. The guilt I was feeling ebbs slightly, and in its place comes some gratitude, directed at him. That’s fine, he can have it; he hasn’t earned anything more.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

Oh, he hasn’t finished his list. I settle back into my chair.

He gestures with one hand. “You’d already caught Serranto’s eye, but I may have made it worse, killing those men in your apartment.”

I’m not sure he did. If he hadn’t been there, where would I be now? Where would Lucy be? Playthings for the Volkovs, for Serranto? My stomach flips, and I swallow bile.

“You may have made them better,” I mutter.

He glances at me in surprise, expression grateful. “I hope so. I hope some of what I did was… for the right reasons.” His eyes return to that spot a foot above the carpet. “I’m… also sorry that I forced you to marry me.”

Well yes, there is that. Gosh, it’s a long list.

“I knew there was a chance you’d say no,” he explains, “but I shouldn’t have blackmailed the judge to ignore your response.”