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“I expect nothing—as I should have done in the first place.”
His arms went to the armrests, and he relaxed in his chair. After a long moment of holding my gaze, he spoke. “Talk to me.”
“I thought my feelings didn’t matter?” I snapped. “Why would I tell you a damn thing when you’ve made it perfectly clear I mean nothing? Less than nothing?” The words flew out of my mouth like fireballs. I was livid, with him as well as myself.
He held my stare and didn’t react. “I shouldn’t have said that—because they do matter.”
My eyes were rigidly glued to his face because I couldn’t believe he’d said that. It was the first decent thing he’d ever said to me. “I just don’t like feeling this way, like I don’t matter. I thought I’d left that life behind, but now I realize I can never escape it. Sometimes I forget my predicament, forget our arrangement, but then I’m cruelly reminded that I am a whore…and I’ll probably die a whore. I’ll never be anything more…a wife or a mother.” My eyes drifted away, caught up in the sadness.
Cauldron stared for a long time, as if he didn’t know what to say. “I know Grave. Give it enough time, and he’ll move on to some other shiny toy. He’ll forget about you, and then you can pursue the life you want.”
“You may know him, but you don’t know him the way I do.” I gave a shake of my head. “Even if he does find someone else, the instant he realizes I’m available, he’ll come right back. If I marry someone, he’ll kill him. He’ll kill my children too. I’m his as far as he’s concerned.”
“You’re mine now, and he knows that.”
My heart gave a shudder as I stared.
“You will be free of him someday.”
His words gave me no solace because he had no idea of what he spoke.
“I know you’re used to men growing attached. Infatuated. Obsessed. Falling in love. Don’t expect that from me because it’ll never happen. I suspect that’s why you’re offended, because a man has only wanted more from you, not less. You need to understand my indifference isn’t personal. I’m just not wired that way.”
Was that why I was offended? My ego? “Why is that?”
He grabbed his glass and swirled it gently. I’d expected an answer of silence, but miraculously, he actually answered. “I’m just incapable of deeper feelings. Always been that way.”
“A woman broke your heart.” It was the only explanation. He’d loved a woman—and she’d shattered him.
He stared into his glass. “I guess that’s true. But not in the way you assume.”
My eyes narrowed.
“My mother was raped, tortured, and murdered.” He said it all matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal, ancient history. He finally took a drink before he set the glass back on the table.
A moment of shock gripped me. I was so still I forgot to breathe for a few seconds. It was a heavy confession, so heavy I wasn’t sure how to react to it. Finally, something came to me. “I…I’m sorry.”
He took another drink.
“When did this—”
“The details aren’t up for discussion. Just be grateful I shared what I have. It’s something I don’t mention to anyone.”
I stared at the side of his face, seeing no sign of harbored pain.
The silence stretched between us.
I had so many more questions, questions that would just anger him.
After another drink of wine, he turned to me. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I whispered, my voice subdued now that I knew he’d lost someone he cared about.
“I’m assuming your parents are no longer in the picture.”
“My mom was really young when she had me, so my dad excused himself from the responsibility. She raised me on her own…single mom.” Her smile would forever live in my heart. I still saw it in my dreams, heard the way she laughed. “She was my best friend.”
He stared with kind eyes, as if this was the first time he could relate to me. “What happened to her?”
Sometimes the memories were too much. They hit me like a fly against the windshield, guts splattering everywhere. Just like him, I didn’t want to discuss the details, relive those horrible months. “She got sick…”
His eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“I’d just become a legal adult when she passed, so I was on my own after that. Hence my line of work…”
There was a depth to his eyes that possessed no bottom. It continued forevermore, his soul across the universe. Absolutely still, he absorbed those words with a hard expression. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrowed a little farther, turning guarded.
I’d rejected his dinner invitation because his presence was unbearable at times, but this evening had been different, had shed light on the darkest part of his soul. Contrary to what he said, he could feel, feel the same range of emotions I could.
