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“Yes, talking takes a lot of energy, I know.” I laugh at him rolling his eyes at me. “There is no more putting it off.”
I sit up and cross my legs so I’m looking directly at him, so he knows I mean business.
“All right. What do you want to know?” As he rolls on his side and looks up at me, I can tell there are so many answers inside this man, I just don’t know what I want to ask first.
“Everything! What a stupid question.” Taking into my mouth a piece of cheese on a cracker, I wait for him to start talking, but there is only silence between us. Maybe he doesn’t even know where to start either.
“Okay, I’ll go first. Walking into the café today, was it just fate? Because I have a feeling there is more to it.” Starting with the small stuff seems easier than jumping right to the big one of why he walked away from me.
“I won’t apologize for what I did today, because I just wanted to protect you.” Scared what he is about to say, I drink my wine way too quickly, but my nerves are already racing.
“After I was told I could leave the police station, I had Rem instruct someone on my security team to watch over you.” My heart starts to thump harder in my chest. “I didn’t know what the fallout would be, but having you in Rome with me, I knew at some stage you would be linked to this shitshow. So as soon as it hit the media, thirty minutes before I was by your side, I knew I needed to get you out of London.”
“So, you’ve been stalking me!” Thoughts of a man staring in my bedroom window race through my head.
“No, Victoria!” Sitting up, he places his hands on my cheeks, obviously scared how I’m about to react.
“I have been protecting you. I will always protect what is mine!” His lips on mine say what he doesn’t understand that he is feeling. The kiss is so possessive that I can’t do anything but completely understand him.
Pulling back from him, I ask, “What are you so afraid of?” I see fear in his eyes.
His answer is not much more than a whisper. “Losing you, like she lost him.”
ChapterSeventeen
VICTORIA
The intensity of his words tells me there is past hurt buried deep inside him.
“Do you want to talk about that?” I don’t want to push something that is so hard for him this early in our conversation. I think that would be like going from zero to a hundred with Nicholas, a man I have struggled to get anything from.
“Not really,” he says, kissing me on the forehead and then sitting back to give distance to his emotions that are bubbling below the surface.
“Then can we talk about what happened in Rome?” It’s my biggest question because I can’t get past the fear that it will happen again. I know he needs me at the moment, but when it’s all over, will he throw me to the side like last time?
“Somehow there were two hundred grams of methamphetamine found in the boot of the Maserati after I drove it that night.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s just trivial information, but I can tell he is pissed about it, and rightly so.
“Yeah, yeah, I want to know about that part, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I poke him in the chest with my finger, but before I can pull it away, his hand lands on top of mine and holds it to his chest, right above his heart. This man needs physical touch to connect emotionally which is so sweet, and I never thought I would be using the word sweet when it comes to describing him. Not in a million years.
“See, this is why I hate talking. You pick all the hard questions,” he grumbles like a schoolboy over having to do his homework.
“Nicholas, you can’t deny there is something pretty intense between us. That just now, upstairs, that’s more than just fucking for fun.”
“Oh, it was definitely fun. Did you not enjoy it?” He fakes horror that I was disappointed.
I laugh at him and use my free hand to slap him lightly on the arm. “Be serious,” I say, chastising him in a joking way, but I’m not sure it’ll make a difference. I know he will only tell me what he wants to share. I have no chance of pushing him past that point, so I may as well accept it.
“Okay, if I agree to do this talking thing, will it make us argue? Because I looovvveeee when we argue. The results are worth it.”
“Oh my God, you are incorrigible. Is that why you keep being an asshole to me?” I try to pull my hand off his heart, but he has it in a firm hold.
“Nope, that’s just me being me,” he sasses, unapologetic for being himself.
I roll my eyes at him, because deep down, apparently, I like this asshole, who would have thought. “I see what you are doing, trying to change the topic. Not happening. I want the truth. What am I to you? Just a fling, a solution to a problem, someone you are now stuck with so you thought you might as well have some fun? Because I can cope with that, but I need to know, before I let my heart get involved.” All lies. My heart is already swimming in the murky waters of whatever this is, and I’m not sure I can see any ladder to get back out before it’s too late.
His body tenses slightly the more I talk. “You may think I’m a monster, but I would never treat you like that. Christ! I hope you see that I’m more than that!” By the scowl on his face and the roughness of his words, I know I’ve hit a tender spot. “If you were a fling as you call it, I would have told you before I ever touched you. Fuck, you must not think very highly of me.” Releasing my hand, he stands and is now pacing the porch in front of me. I’m beginning to understand that’s his thing. When he is stressed, he stands and paces.
I need to try and calm him down before this ends up escalating. “Nicholas…” I hold my hand out toward him, encouraging him to come back to me.
