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"It escalated quickly, and because we traveled so much I didn't have anyone to go to. He was powerful enough to cover his tracks and strong enough to...well, I didn't dare disobey him. Only his family was ever around long enough for me to make friends with."
She bit her bottom lip. If she put a wall up, she could separate herself from the past. She could pretend it had been someone else. That she'd been someone else.
"One day, his brother came by unannounced and found me on the floor. I think about that day a lot, what might have happened if he didn't come by. I probably would have..." She shook her head. "His brother beat him within an inch of his life and after that I never saw my husband again. They negotiated the divorce contract within the family, and I was able to go free so long as I never breathed a word about it to anyone. His brother fought against it, but..." She sucked in a deep breath. "Anyway, it would have hurt the family as much as my husband, and old money can't afford scandal, so...I know he keeps an eye out to make sure nothing happens to anyone the way it happened to me."
"Are you—"
She held up a hand. "I'm fine. But you can see why...It's not the abuse. Not really. That came from a deeply flawed place inside of him and I know it wasn't my fault. But even if I know that, it doesn't mean I want to defend myself to other people. I made a mistake, but I thought I was in love."
She leaned back and let out a deep breath. She hadn't told that story since...well, she hadn't told that story ever. Her friends knew bits and pieces, the bare bones in order to make sense of her life, but the whole of it? That had been her cross to bear alone.
"So anyway, if there's one thing I learned from marriage, it's that I have no idea what love is. I used to think it was my pasta sauce recipe, but you saw how that turned out." She smiled at him, hoping to defuse the murderous look in his eyes, but to no avail.
"You gonna be okay, big guy?" She nudged him, and it was as if a switch had gone off in his brain. He eased, his lips tilting again into his cocky smile.
"I'm fine. But I think I probably should have told my story first. There's no topping that one."
She laughed and the knot in her stomach loosened. Thank god he didn't go all GI Joe on her. She couldn't have handled it if he'd peppered her with questions or tried to track Dominic down.
Not that he would have any cause to.
But the whole "damsel in distress" thing was so not her anymore.
The fact that Brooks recognized that...warmth spread through her chest and she let out a deep breath. "Yeah, I probably should have warned you that mommy and daddy not loving you wouldn't exactly measure up to my sob story."
"Not a sob story. Just a story." He tilted his head toward her and she smiled.
"Right you are."
* * *
He wanted to kill the bastard. He'd track him down, set him on fire, and then squirt gasoline onto the flames. He'd stomp on him with steal-toed boots and then kick him off a cliff.
He'd—
"So, what should we watch now?" Natalie changed the channel on the television, and he shrugged, trying his best to look impassive. "Whatever you want."
"Oh, now that you know my background you're going to go easy on me?"
"No, now that I know you've still barely eaten and you get cranky when you're hungry, I'm going to go easy on you."
She shrugged and then flicked to something in black and white.
He'd have bet a million dollars Franco Del Rossi was involved in here somewhere. He wasn't sure how or why, but he knew it just like he knew his own name. But if he asked...
/> He couldn't do that, not when she'd finally seemed to soften toward him. He just had to do something to get Franco and her bastard ex-husband off his mind.
His stomach growled, and then he rolled onto his feet and started toward the kitchen.
The tapping of her slippers behind him let him know that's she'd noticed and followed him. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to cook us something. What do you keep around here?" He opened the pantry to find a can of tuna and crusty bread and...nothing else.
"I eat out a lot."
"Looks that way." He picked up the groceries, set them on the counter, then headed for the fridge. Bacon and cheese. Just what the doctor ordered.
"This isn't exactly the French Laundry, you know," she muttered and when he turned to grab one of the skillets hanging from the rack about the island, it was to find her staring at him.
