Monsters & Angels (Cate & Kian Book 7)

by Louise Hall

  He looked down at his watch. He’d already been running late for his appointment when he’d turned the corner and watched Cate stumble out on to the narrow cobbled street.

  “I can’t keep doing this,” Cate sighed. “I’m trying to move forward but every time I turn around you’re right there.”

  “You’re trying to move forward?” he grunted, stalking towards her until she was pressed right up against the brick wall. “What exactly does that mean? We’ve been separated for less than a week, are you already inviting other guys into our bed?”

  He’d been so determined to push her away that he hadn’t thought about what would happen if… when he succeeded. Even if they were a thousand times better for her than he could ever be, he still couldn’t bear the thought of Cate with another man. They might not have been cursed with his demons but he knew with absolute certainty that they would never be able to love her like he did. He loved his wife with every fibre of his being, that’s why he was so fiercely determined to protect her and the children from his darkness and depravity.

  Cate shook her head, “you’re really something, you know that? Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I don’t have time for other men. Apart from when they’re in school, I spend every minute of the day with the children. While you’re having cosy, little lunches with my brother, I’m trying as hard as I can to make sure that our children know that even though their dad isn’t home they’re still safe and loved. They’re not stupid, Kian. They know that something’s wrong. Every night, they sleep in bed with me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kian held his hands up. Relief flooded his veins on hearing her vigorous denial.

  “Yeah,” Cate spat out, “I’ve heard that a lot from you recently.”

  “Cate…” He was still worried that he’d just seen her come out of Dr Chen’s practice.

  She followed his gaze to the bronze plaque above her left shoulder. “If I wasn’t so angry with you right now, I might almost think that it was funny. You left us because you think that you’re some kind of monster but yet, I’m the one who seriously thought about killing myself and our unborn child and I’m still here.”

  Kian frowned, “are you depressed again, angel?”

  Cate gritted her teeth, “I told you not to call me that. Not that it’s any of your business but no, I’m not depressed. The children are perfectly safe with me.”

  “Of course, it’s my fucking business...”

  “No,” Cate snarled. “It stopped being your business when you walked out on us. Why don’t you just go back to your fancy hotel room with black-out curtains, a maid service and a chocolate on your freaking pillow every night and I’ll go back to my bed overcrowded with anxious children.”

  She pushed at his chest when he wouldn’t step back. “When we were at the Chatsfield, you said that you’d never want to hurt me. That was a lie because ever since then all you’ve done is hurt me and what’s worse is you don’t even care.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Cate slipped out from between him and the brick wall, “just leave me alone, Kian. Leave me alone.”

  After she’d gone, Kian continued standing there looking up at the brick building which until half an hour ago he’d hoped would be his salvation.

  It had started raining again, making his wool coat feel like even more of a burden on his shoulders.

  He trudged back towards his hotel room, which Cate thought of as a palace while to him it was a prison. Did she know how desperately he wished that he could be back at home, struggling to find a sliver of bed for himself in the midst of her and the children? He didn’t give a fuck about black-out curtains; there was already enough darkness inside of him. Apart from that lunch with Ben, the only interaction he’d had in the last few days had been with the maid hired to clean his room. She was very efficient but didn’t speak much English. The chocolate which was left on his pillow every night just tasted bitter on his tongue.

  This was your choice.

  No, he was paying for a choice he’d made a long time ago when he’d been just a young boy who hadn’t wanted to disappoint his dad.

  He’d been a fool to believe that a therapist could fix him. He was just like O’Malley’s gym, the dirt and grime was embedded too deeply under his skin.

  Liam was dead and it was his fault. He didn’t deserve any second chances.

  Wednesday March 13th

  Although he’d started back at work on Monday morning, he’d told Ben that he needed to take Thursday off. He’d lied and said that he had a follow-up appointment at the hospital and he didn’t know how long it was going to take but he’d work from his hotel room afterwards.

  Every night when he talked to Cate on the phone, he held his breath wondering if she was going to tell him that she’d finally signed the divorce papers. They both knew that this was far more serious than just a trial separation.

  He didn’t want a divorce but it was inevitable and the waiting was fucking killing him. He needed to talk to Cate, face-to-face, when the children weren’t there.

  He was in the lift getting ready to go home when Bram stepped inside. “Can we talk?” He spoke quietly but he still had his upper-class English accent which drew attention.

  They got out at the next floor and walked down the short corridor to Bram’s office.

  “What’s going on?” Kian asked with trepidation. Had Cate already hired a lawyer without telling him?

  “They’ve charged him.”

  “What?” Kian slumped down into the chair in front of Bram’s desk. “When?”

  “This morning. Detective Light called and asked me to pass on the message since apparently you’re not returning his calls anymore.”

  “What about the press? Have they picked up the story yet?”

  “No, they’re still in a flutter about the Royal engagement. Which reminds me, I should really buy the happy couple a gift.”

  Kian gritted his teeth. “If there’s anything about it anywhere, I want you to call me straight away.”

  Bram might have attended Eton but he still rolled his eyes, “you don’t pay me enough for this.”

  “We both know that you’re rich enough that you don’t actually need to work. You do it because you love it. I won’t be in the office tomorrow but call me on my mobile, OK?”

  “Will do,” Bram saluted him playfully. “Do you want to stay for a drink?”

  “After hearing that, I’m not really in the mood.”

  Bram raised an eyebrow, “if it was me, I’d be in the mood to get absolutely shit-faced.”

  Kian was just about to leave. “Have you heard anything about those papers I had you draw up?”

  “Which papers... oh?” Bram nodded. “No, I haven’t. Maybe your girl is a lot tougher than you think.”

  Thursday March 14th

  When he’d played for Rovers, they’d gone into the last game of the season – away at Norwich, which was a fucking awful journey – and mathematically there was still a chance that they could finish 4th and get into the Champions League. All they needed was to beat Norwich; for West Ham to beat Liverpool (the team currently in 4th place) and somehow overturn a 36 goal difference. It might not have been impossible but it was damn near close.

  They won the game 5-0 and it was one of the worst matches Kian had ever played in. After the 2nd goal went in, even their own fans couldn’t be bothered to celebrate anymore. The poor bastards who’d made the trip down to Carrow Road entertained themselves instead by doing a massive conga line. West Ham did their job and beat Liverpool 2-1 but it didn’t make any difference. They’d won 5-0 but on the coach back home to Manchester, it was like they’d just been beaten by the same score line. They’d ended up finishing in 5th place, exactly where they’d been at the start of the day.

  He had that exact same feeling in his gut as he drove up to the house that morning. He hadn’t driven over here to try and win Cate back – that was as impossible as trying to turn around a 36 goal difference – no, he’d
come here to say goodbye. Maybe after today, she’d finally sign those goddamn papers.

  He still had his keys so he let himself in through the front door. Cate wasn’t downstairs so he walked upstairs. When he walked into their bedroom, he heard the shower running.

  Fuck, now he was in a quandary because the last thing he wanted to do was scare her but he needed to do this now. If he left and tried to come back, he wouldn’t. It was already painful enough because he could smell the sweet scent of her blackberry shampoo and he’d missed it so fucking much.

  The bathroom door was open slightly and it might have been really creepy of him but he pushed it open a little more so he could see inside. Cate was stood in the shower with her back to him, the palms of her hands pressed up against the tiles. The light seemed to catch on her wedding and eternity rings. She wasn’t moving, she was just letting the water stream down her body. She looked so fragile, like if he touched her she might crumble to dust.

  He was about to leave when he heard her guttural sob. He turned around and he could see now that her shoulders were shaking. Her nails scratched at the smooth tiles, struggling to find purchase. He might be a monster but he’d never been able to see her in pain and not at least try to comfort her.

  Before he’d even thought about what he was doing, he was walking into the bathroom. He didn’t even bother taking off his suit, he just pulled back the glass door and stepped inside.

  Cate looked up but she didn’t seem startled to see him there. “Kian,” it was like he could hear everything she was feeling in just that one, simple word.

  “Hush,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. “It’s OK.”

  “I can’t…” her voice cracked and splintered. “I can’t do this, Kian. Please come home.”

  He reached up his hand and gently caressed the swell of her breast. “I’ve got you.”

  She stopped crying as he toyed with her pink nipple, drawing the bud into a stiff peak. She pushed back against him, rubbing her bottom up and down against his groin.

  His wife was naked and rubbing up against him, of course he was fucking hard.

  “Make love to me,” Cate begged.

  Kian smoothed his hand over her belly, over the C-section scar on her abdomen and down between her legs. “Please,” Cate writhed as he stroked his fingers through her soft curls.

  “Let me take care of you, angel.”

  She was so warm and slick; he teased her clit before gently easing two fingers inside her. “That feels so good,” she said shakily.

  It was bittersweet because she might not know it yet but he knew that every touch was going to be the last. The last caress of her breast, pinch of her nipple, thrust of his fingers and brush of his thumb against her swollen clit. The last time she came apart in his arms was perhaps the hardest of all. He didn’t want to cry so he kissed her, swallowing her passionate cries as if they were much-needed oxygen. After she’d stopped trembling, he held her upright with an arm around her waist and he brought his fingers up to his lips, tasting her again for one final time.

  Cate turned in his arms and when she looked up at him, he realised that was the worst feeling of all because there was so much hope there. “What are you doing here? Are you coming home?”

  Kian shook his head and Cate stumbled backwards. It was almost poetic that the first blow to their marriage had come in a shower cubicle and so would the last.

  He climbed out of the shower and walked back into the bedroom. Cate grabbed a towel from the rack and quickly followed him. Her inky-black hair trailed like a rope down her back.

  “You can’t just touch me like that and then walk away.”

  Kian retrieved his suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and began packing up the rest of his things. “I think we should tell Mats and Sierra that we’ve separated. It’s time.”

  “No,” Cate gasped. “We can fix this. If you just talk to me, I know that we can fix this.”

  Kian turned his back on her, “it’s for the best, angel.”

  “Don’t fucking call me that,” she yelled. “My husband calls me that.”

  He removed his wet shirt and Cate grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her. She stabbed a finger at the tattoos on his bare chest. “Do those mean nothing to you?”

  “Of course they mean something.”

  “Then why won’t you stay and talk to me?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good.” And it would do you so much harm.

  “You don’t know that.”

  Kian got dressed in a dry shirt and trousers and then went back to folding up the rest of his clothes and putting them in his suitcase.

  “If you’re such a cold, unfeeling bastard, why did you touch me like that in the shower?”

  “I was saying goodbye, Cate.”

  “No,” Cate stumbled backwards, the backs of her legs hitting the bed. “No.”

  “Yes,” he insisted.

  “Fine.” She walked across to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer, where she kept her underwear. She rifled through the lace and silk and eventually pulled out the manila envelope containing their divorce papers. “Do you want me to sign these?”

  He nodded.

  “No,” she shook her head. “If you really want me to sign them, you’re going to have to tell me.”

  Kian steeled himself, “fine, I want you to sign those papers, Cate.”

  “Not good enough. I want you to say it again but this time I want you to tell me exactly which papers you want me to sign.”

  “I want you to sign the divorce papers, Cate. Are you happy now?”

  “I’m ecstatic. Have you got a pen?”

  As she snatched the pen from him, the towel slipped, exposing her bare breast. Kian couldn’t look away. Even after three children, she still had the most beautiful teardrop-shaped breasts. She might be furious with him but he could see that the heat of his gaze still raised goose bumps on her flesh. Her taut nipple was like a siren, beckoning him closer to the edge.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, fighting hard against the urge to reach out and caress her.

  Cate refused to cover herself up. She’d really thought that she’d hit rock bottom, that it simply wasn’t possible for her to feel any more pain, when she’d been crying in the shower earlier but she’d been wrong. He’d appeared just when she’d really needed him, almost as if she’d conjured him up by magic, and then he’d touched her so intimately, giving her such immense pleasure.

  She’d felt like she had when they’d gone on one of the rides at Santa Monica Pier. She’d been lifted 150 feet in the air and for that one perfect moment, she’d been suspended at the top with the cool breeze kissing her cheeks and looking out across the sheer beauty of the Pacific Ocean. But then without warning, she’d plummeted right back down to earth, the speed making it feel like her stomach had been ripped out of her body and was rushing to catch up with her sudden descent.

  For a brief moment after she’d come, when his fingers were still deeply entrenched between her legs and the protective shield had dropped from her battered heart, she’d stupidly allowed herself to hope that maybe this meant that he was finally ready to talk to her, that he wanted to come home. Instead, he’d turned his back and walked away.

  She dropped her eyes to his groin. In that stance, with his black trousers pulled tight across his hips, the thick bulge of his erection proved that he wasn’t cold or unfeeling. Maybe if his desire for her hadn’t been so obvious, she would have acted differently.

  She turned her back on him and walked across to the dressing table. She removed the divorce papers from the manila envelope and set them down on the table.

  She risked a glance over her shoulder but he was stood by the wardrobe, removing the last of his clothes from the hangers. She didn’t want him to see what she was doing.

  After she’d finished, she carefully put the papers back in the envelope. “There you go,” she shoved the envelope and pen back at him. She wanted him to think
that she’d capitulated. “Get out right now.”

  “I need to finish packing up my things.”

  “I’ll have them couriered to you. According to those papers you just had me sign, this isn’t your house anymore, it’s mine and I want you to leave right now.”

  She followed him down the stairs. “Do you want to know something, Kian? You’ve been telling me for weeks now that you’re such a monster but I didn’t actually believe it until about 10 minutes ago.”

  Christmas Eve

  16 Years Ago

  The light at the back of the house came on and they could hear footsteps coming down the stairs leading from the kitchen to the patio outside the basement. “Stay here,” Kian said, untangling himself from Cate. He peered around the corner. “It’s my dad,” he mouthed.

  Cate struggled to pull herself together; she ran her fingers through her mussed-up hair and straightened out her lace dress.

  “Dad,” Kian said loudly. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

  “I needed a cigarette,” Eamon said. “your mum’s on at me to quit and I will but in my own sweet time. You won’t tell me on me, will ya?”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Kian promised.

  “Good lad,” Eamon took his first delicious puff. “Anyway, what are you doing out here? It’s just as cold for me as it is for you.”

  “Just fancied some fresh air,” Kian said.

  “Fresh air, my arse,” Eamon laughed. “You’ve got a girl around here somewhere, haven’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Aye, you have. You can’t lie to me. Well, come on then, where is she?” He craned his neck around.

  “You’ve got to promise not to tell anyone,” Kian said. “I mean it Dad, not even Mum.”

  “Ooh, I like the sound of this,” Eamon rubbed his hands with glee. “Ah, you’re being serious now, are you? Okey-dokey, I can be serious.” He raised his hand up in the air. “I, Eamon Finbar Warner, do solemnly swear that I will not tell another living soul about whatever sordid little shenanigans my boy has been up to out here.”