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Alex’s drink arrived, and Red lingered to flirt outrageously for a while. Isobella endured it and Alex’s equally flirty banter with as much indifference as she could muster.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Alex asked Isobella as he finished his meal, passing her his untouched bread roll.
Isobella took the roll, ignoring the rub of his husky voice all the way down her spine. ‘No.’
Alex chuckled, watching her break the bread open with her fingers and slather it with butter. ‘It’s not about Piccolo. I promise.’
Isobella bit into the roll. ‘All right, then,’ she acquiesced grudgingly. He had shared his leftovers, after all.
He watched her bite into the roll. A smear of butter glistened on her bottom lip, and sinful thoughts of removing it with his own slithered through his mind before she flicked her tongue out to clear it off. It took him a moment or two to remember what he’d been about to say.
‘Why do you hide your body?’
Isobella swallowed, almost choking on the last of the bread roll. She stared at him, the urge to deny it strong. But he already knew too much about her. Lying seemed pointless. ‘Why do you think?’ she asked caustically.
He shrugged, dismayed at the bitterness in her voice. ‘I honestly don’t know. You don’t need to wear baggy clothes to cover your scars. Any shirt’s going to do that.’
Isobella blinked. He didn’t get it. He truly didn’t get it. She was dismayed to feel tears gathering in her eyes. How could she explain to him how deeply the mental scars had wounded her? ‘They’re hideous, Alex.’
Her voice was tremulous, and she was looking at him as if he’d grown another head. As if he’d never understand in a million years. But he did understand. Some. He knew what it was like to be travelling along a path only to have the signposts change on you. ‘No, Isobella. They’re not.’
She looked at him askance. ‘How can you say that? You saw them. They’re…they’re ugly…repulsive, revolting.’
‘No. They’re not,’ he repeated calmly.
Isobella was blown away by the steady honesty in his open blue gaze. She looked away. She was too desperate to believe what he was saying. Too vulnerable after their recent confrontation to be strong. She would not let his pretty words persuade her into ignoring the evidence of her own eyes and that of the two men who were supposed to have loved her.
‘Well, maybe you can look at them differently. With the calm, clinical eye of a physician. No doubt you find themfascinating . But, trust me, other men don’t.’
Alex heard the stiffness in her voice masking what was obviously deep-seated hurt. He shrugged. ‘Some men are too stupid to live.’
Isobella was so surprised by his honesty and his matter-of-fact delivery that she laughed, despite the whirl of anxiety cramping her insides.
Alex watched as the laughter petered out from her face and doubt drew her brows together. ‘What was his name?’
She hesitated. ‘Paolo.’
Alex nodded, and waited for her to elaborate.
‘He was…is…he still is a photographer. He freelances for all the top fashion magazines.’ She remembered seeing his name only a few months ago in aVogue spread she’d been admiring. ‘He was shooting that day sixteen years ago…I collapsed at his feet.’ She felt the pain all over again. From the searing bite of the tentacles and from Paolo’s rejection.
Alex could see the distance in her gaze and could tell she was back at that day. He waited for her to say more, but it didn’t look as if she was coming back any time soon. ‘He…left you? After?’ he prodded gently.
She nodded, coming out of her reverie. ‘He couldn’t even bear to look at me.’
Alex reached for her hand and covered it with his own. He felt her flinch, but held on anyway. He remembered her telling him it had been a long time since she’d had sex. Had it been sixteen years? ‘There’s been no one else?’
‘There was another man. A couple of years later. I thought he might be special. He was nuts about me…apparently. But he…he ran pretty quickly when he saw thereal me.’
Alex squeezed her hand. Some men really were too stupid to live. ‘You lost a lot that day on the beach. Your lover. Your career.’
Yes, she had. But it wasn’t just that—she’d lost her sense of self that day. Her perception of who she was. But how did she explain that? She couldn’t.
‘No. Not my career. It was my last shoot. I was retiring from modelling.’
