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The edge was back in his voice. When she glanced at him, she saw the rigid tension freezing his body.
She licked her lips. ‘The partying … the men.’
Silence throbbed in the living room. His hand on the seat tightened into a fist. ‘How many were there?’ he finally asked into the charged atmosphere.
‘Damion—’
‘How many?’
She named the figure. Damion’s face turned ashen beneath his normally healthy tan. Before her very eyes she saw him recoil. His throat moved as he visibly swallowed.
And every second Reiko lived through the look in his eyes made her want to sink into the ground.
He surged to his feet. And without another word he walked out.
Reiko wasn’t sure how long she remained frozen on the sofa. She knew it was a long time because her throat felt raw from crying and the living room was cloaked in darkness save for the intermittent glow from her goldfish.
Damion had left, just as she’d predicted. The small part of her that wasn’t writhing in pain felt relieved. Really, she’d been saved from compounding his disgust with her by not letting him push her into revealing her outward scars. She couldn’t have borne him recoiling from her scars the same way he’d recoiled from her other admissions.
She traced the scar on her face, fresh tears falling when she recalled Damion kissing it only a few days ago.
Pity. It had just been pity. Her fingers massaged her temple, and then she realised the pounding she could hear wasn’t just in her head.
She dropped her hand, and her gaze flew to the door as the pounding grew louder.
‘Reiko! Open the door,’ came the firm command.
She stood and swayed with light-headedness. One shaky hand scrubbed across her face as the pounding came again.
Sniffing back more tears, she lit the nearest lamp and opened the door. ‘What do you want, Damion?’ she asked the imposing figure filling her doorway.
He stepped forward, shut the door behind him and held up a bottle of expensive red wine. ‘That sake you served was an affront to my taste buds. I thought we’d need something more palatable.’
‘You left … to buy wine?’
‘This isn’t just any wine, ma belle. It’s a Bordeaux from my personal vineyard.’
His words were easy enough, but his gaze held a grim purpose that stopped her breath.
‘Damion …’
‘We haven’t finished talking.’ He went to the sofa and set the bottle down on the table unopened. ‘Come and sit down, Reiko.’
‘Why did you really leave?’ she asked.
His lips firmed, and she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he shoved a hand through his hair. ‘Most men don’t like to think of a woman they’ve made love to making love with other men. In my case the thought makes me slightly insane.’
Surprise scythed through her. ‘It does?’
His intense gaze rested on her. ‘Remember what I said earlier about obsession?’
She nodded warily.
‘My father suffered from obsessive behaviour, as did my grandfather when my grandmother was alive. On the train today, it struck me that I might be headed that way where you’re concerned.’
She gasped. ‘You love me?’
His laugh could have frozen water. ‘Never confuse obsession with love, Reiko. Making that mistake made my childhood one no child should be put through.’
