Catch My Breath (26 page)

Not looking away from the food, he answered, “No.”

I wanted to grab his rigid shoulders and shake the life out of him.

“Well, I’m done. I’m going to take a bubble bath.”

Alastair stood up, collected the plates and then looked at me. His eyes were dark. "Will you be long?"

"I don't know. The usual bubble bath time, I guess."

"Don't be long," he ordered.

“Hey,” I said, my voice rising. “Watch your tone with me. I’ll take as long as I want. What does it matter to you anyway? You haven't said more than ten words to me in the past hour."

Getting off the stool, I planted my feet on the floor and engaged him in a challenging stare. His stunned silence didn’t last long. A wall of terror surrounded me when I saw him come around the island. Two realities merged together into one horrific scenario. He was coming at me. I was going to be trapped again. Not sure what I was seeing or what was going to happen, I backed away fast, slamming into the wall. Panic strangled my heart. Squeezing my eyes shut, I could still see him looming in front of me.

Bracing for what I knew would happen next, I lowered my head, praying for it to be over fast.

“Lia.”

My whispered name wafted through the tunnel of my mind, beckoning me. Every muscle in my body mimicked steel. I was unable to move.

“Lia. Open your eyes.”

The soothing, calm cadence of the request broke through my fear. Still not certain as to what I’d see, I cracked open my eyelids. Blinking, I stared at the floor, seeing nothing but my own feet. Nothing else was in front of me, nobody was holding me against the wall. Lifting my head, I saw Alastair, pale with shock, standing by the island. He took a step forward.

“Don’t come any closer,” I begged, tears flowing down my cheeks in rivers.

My plea stopped him dead in his tracks.

“I’m not going to hurt you, love,” he reassured me, holding up his hands.

Trembling from head to toe, I let his words bathe and comfort me. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I knew it with every piece of my being.

“Alastair,” I whimpered, slumping against the wall. With great caution, he walked toward me. When he was close enough, I collapsed in his arms. Securing me in his embrace, he held me, letting me cry into his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he repeated, stroking my back. “You’re safe with me.”

Hearing his declaration launched another wave of tears. I hugged him so tightly I was afraid I’d crush his ribs. He didn’t seem to mind. I stayed latched onto him forever; I didn’t know how long and I didn’t care.

"Let's go to another room,” he suggested. “Somewhere cozy and quiet. Alright?"

Lifting my head, I met his gaze. His eyes were huge, filled with worry. I melted into his side, letting him lead me through the house. We passed a formal dining room and what appeared to be a library. At the end of a short hallway, he pushed open a large door. Inside was a dimly lit room. It was inviting and warm and had a plush wraparound couch nestled against the walls. I relaxed almost instantly. The comforting hues of creams, golds and olive greens wrapped around me like a blanket.

"This was the playroom when my sister and I were little,” he explained, settling onto the couch with me. “There used to be a toy box there. We'd play in here for hours and hours. It's my favorite room in the house."

He wiped my tears with his thumb.

"I can't bear to see you cry, Lia."

Welling up for the millionth time, I curled up next to him, resting my head on his chest.

"May I ask you something?" he proposed, kissing the top of my head.

I nodded against him.

"You don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable doing so, but will you tell me what happened with Nathan?”

I didn’t want to. If I had my way, I’d bury every memory I had of him. But to be fair, I had to answer.

Wiping my eyes, I sat up. “It started out fine. He was charming and fun and exciting. I mean, his dad’s a senator, so I got to experience some great things. After about a year or so, I noticed a change.”

Glancing at Alastair, I saw I had a fiercely attentive audience.

“I consider myself a friendly person. We’d be at public functions or big, fancy dinners and I’d talk to whoever struck up a conversation with me. One time, some guy started talking to me. He was harmless, but Nathan…” I paused. “I never told you his name, did I?”

“No.”

“How do you know it?”

“That night at your flat, when Stephanie called, you said you had an incident with Nathan. I sort of figured it out.”

His impish grin made me smile.

“Right. Anyway. Um, to make a long story short, he’d get upset when I talked to other guys. It didn’t matter who it was; he didn’t like it. Then he started leaving gifts on my car when I was out with my friends.”

“Gifts?”

I nodded. “Roses, little notes, things like that. It was cute at first, but then things would show up on my car when I hadn’t told him where I was going. He would text me incessantly wanting to know where I was, who I was with, stuff like that. I brushed it off for as long as I could, thinking maybe he’s doing all this because his dad is so high profile. But I got tired of it and wanted out.”

I blew out a shaky breath. This was harder than I thought.

“Take your time,” he said, rubbing my arm.

“It wasn’t just the stalking or the jealousy. He would, um, if I didn't want to have sex or whatever, he would tell me that I was nothing but a tease and that no guy would want me. He said I wasn't worthy of a real man and that he could have any woman he wanted.” I squared my jaw. "He called me a pity fuck once."

The couch dipped as Alastair shifted his weight.

"You continued seeing him after he said that," he seethed.

"Do you want me to continue?"

Alastair ran both hands through his hair, looked at me and nodded.

"I had a pregnancy scare. I'm on birth control but at the time I was in the middle of switching the kind I used. I always made sure we were careful, but nothing is one hundred percent." I laced my fingers together.
This is too hard
.

Sensing my trepidation, he ran his knuckles over my cheek.

"When I told him, he got angry. He said I did it on purpose and wanted nothing to do with it or me," I paused, gulping. "We were standing in his kitchen. I was by the table and…and he came at me. It all happened so fast. He had me pinned against the wall. He was yelling and swearing. I tried to get away but he grabbed my arm and pushed me back against the wall. Then he—“ I stopped short, afraid I’d break down.

"Hey," Alastair said softly, cupping my chin. "Look at me."

What little emotional strength I had left was supported by his unwavering gaze.

"He was so angry," I continued.

"What happened?"

"He punched the wall next to my head." My voice shook. "His hand went right through it."

“I should have torn his head off that night,” Alastair snarled.

"Everything sort of moved in slow motion after that. He let go of me and started yelling that his hand was broken. I grabbed my bag and ran out. I don't remember getting into my car or driving away. The next thing I knew I was home." I shrugged and slumped into the cushion. Blood pounded in my ears.

"Was the gala the first time you'd seen him since that happened?"

“Yep.”

“Have you heard from him since then?”

Averting my eyes, I shook my head.

“Don’t keep things from me, Lia.”

Swallowing back a salty lump, I squeezed my hands together.

"He texted me a few times. That's it."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. Stupid stuff. It's not a big deal."

"I'd feel better if you changed your mobile number." He clenched his jaw.

"I'm not doing that.”

“You need to.”

The commanding tone he used pissed me off.
Seriously? After what I just finished telling him?

“You need to cool it with the orders,” I snapped. “They’re just text messages. I can handle it.”

“I can’t keep you safe if he has a way to harass you.”

Raking my fingers through my hair, I leaned into the cushions. “I’m not in mortal danger. Stop being so dramatic.”

Letting out a short burst of air, he relented. “Fine. But if he so much as touches you—“

I pressed my finger to his mouth, cutting him off. I was tired. I was emotionally drained. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Leave it alone for now, please. I appreciate your concern. Scale it back a little. I’m sitting in a cavernous house in the English countryside. He can’t get me here.”

I still had my finger on his mouth but could see the wheels turning in his brain. Puckering his lips, he kissed it.

“You’re stubborn, Meyers.”

“I know. It’s part of my charm.”

“Hmm.” Tenting his fingers in front of his mouth, he grinned. “Go upstairs and change into your little pajamas, then meet me back here.”

“Why?” I arched an eyebrow.

“Just do it,” he insisted, standing up.

Ten minutes later, I was back in his childhood playroom, lounging on the couch in my PJs. Bored, I decided to explore a bit. There was a bookcase next to the media center. I checked out all the different titles. They were mostly reference books. One shelf was dedicated to photo albums. Dozens of them. The temptation to snatch a few off there and look through them was strong.

“There you are.”

I turned and saw Alastair standing at the door with his hands behind his back. A calculating grin was on his lips.

"Sit," he ordered, angling his head toward the couch. Doing as I was told, I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You're very bossy all of a sudden."

"Think so?" He grinned and knelt down in front of me. "Right foot please."

"Why?"

"No questions, kitten. Just give me your foot."

Holding onto my calf, he produced one of the crystal-encrusted heels he’d given me from behind his back. I stifled a laugh as he slipped it on my foot, thinking this was a weird Cinderella-esque moment. He wrapped his fingers around my left calf, lifted my leg and put the other shoe on my foot.

As pretty as they were, they looked silly sticking out the bottom of my pajama pants.
Someone has a thing for high heels.

"Don't move. I mean it." He wagged a finger and walked to the media cabinet. I’d grown quite fond of his choice in sleepwear. Those cotton bottoms hugged his butt nicely.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked with a crooked smile. "Go stand by the windows. Please."

Mock saluting him, I stood nearest the windows in the corner of the room so I was surrounded by glass. Peering up, I marveled at the onyx sky dotted with stars.

Soft piano music filled the room.

"Ella Fitzgerald?" I asked, turning to see Alastair next to me. He nodded, sliding his hands around my waist.

"We still haven’t had a proper dance,” he said, pulling me close.

“The one at the fair doesn’t count?”

“Not technically. It was rather abrupt. No talking during this song. Listen to the words."

Swaying his hips to the music, he moved me with him. I melted into his embrace much more readily this time, although I was a little nervous I’d step on his feet with these heels. Snuggling against him, I smiled. The guy who didn’t ‘do’ relationships was a romantic at heart, and probably didn’t even realize it. Running my nails up his neck and through his hair, I let the lyrics to
You Leave Me Breathless
swirl through my heart.

As Ella's satiny voice crooned out to an unseen lover to give their lips to her, I tilted my head up. Alastair pulled our foreheads together. The same fire that burned through my belly when we danced at the fair ignited.

“I do feel safe with you,” I whispered.

Slanting his head, he sealed our mouths together. This would never get old for me; the sparks, the glorious mess my mind transformed into with every movement of his lips. He had me; body and soul.

“Upstairs. Now,” he moaned.

My clicking heels echoed through the massive expanse of the house as I walked with purpose across the marble floor and up the main staircase. We collapsed in a tangled heap on the bed, tearing each other’s clothes off. I didn’t even care how many pairs of underwear he ripped off me. I loved the way he made my mind scramble with just a touch. I loved the way he kissed every inch of me like I was a goddess. I loved the way he sounded when I kissed him and worshipped his body.

Listening to his labored breathing as we waited for our bodies to cool down, I accepted the realization that I was lost in his haze and didn’t want to be found.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"Good morning, Amelia."

I turned to see where the breezy, English accent was coming from. Katherine was standing by the entrance of the sitting room, smiling.

“Good morning,” I replied.

“It’s a beautiful photo, isn’t it?” she asked, standing next to me. I nodded.

“Alastair took it about five or six years ago when he was in Rome. He’d been walking around on his own and saw that little flower poking out from a pile of dirt near a renovation area by the Colosseum.” She smiled. “He’ll never admit it but my nephew has a soft spot for fragile beauty. Something about how unexpected and delicate it is draws him to it I suspect.”

“I never pegged him to have a soft spot for anything,” I said out loud without thinking.

“He does,” she smiled. “He’s making breakfast now. Come join me in the sunroom while you’re waiting.”

I followed Katherine past the main staircase and through the kitchen.

"No peeking, Meyers." Alastair grinned from the stove.

"Cheesy omelets again, Holden?" I teased.

His aunt waved me through a set of French doors. The sunroom was warm and cheery, even though the skies were gray and bleak. Baskets of hanging verbena and sweet peas hung from some of the windows, filling the room with a sweet, floral scent.

The view outside was unreal. It was pastoral. Mile after mile of rolling hills, green grass and trees reaching for the sky. If it wasn't for the imposing mansion I could have sworn I was in a small, secluded cottage.
Like the one in Scotland.