“Yes, it does,” he said harshly, fury at himself and his own weakness making him cruel. “And don’t pretend you give a shit. You’re only here because you’re too scared to be alone.”
Pain flared in her eyes. “That’s not true. I wanted—”
But he’d had enough. He couldn’t stand her looking at him like that, seeing all his flaws and vulnerabilities. Seeing his shame.
So he bent and put his face right near hers. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get out, get out. Get out!”
She broke then. Giving a choked sob, she whirled around and ran from the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Leaving him standing there, panting, shivering, bleeding onto the floor, the jagged pieces of his broken self rubbing together, cutting and slicing. Hurting.
You did it. You scared her away. But it’s for the best. You know in your heart that it’s true.
Little Red. She’d only wanted to take care of him, but he was too much of an animal. Too much of a wolf to let anyone care for him.
Too much of a broken man.
He wanted to laugh, because that’s what he did. He laughed when it hurt.
But this time he didn’t.
This time, he threw back his head and howled instead.
Chapter 13
Ella expected him to come after her. Every day she expected a limo to turn up outside the door of her parents’ apartment, and for him to be inside waiting for her. Because he had to know where she’d gone. She had nowhere else to go after all, and she’d made no effort to hide where she’d escaped to.
But the days went by with no long black car waiting outside her door. No tall figure standing on the steps knocking and demanding to be let in.
No texts. No calls. No emails.
And after the first week went by with no contact, she began to understand that he wasn’t coming for her after all.
He’d told her he’d never let her go, but apparently “never” didn’t mean what she thought it meant.
Apparently it didn’t cover her leaving.
At first she told herself she was glad, that she definitely didn’t want him to come after her. That she was better off without him. She couldn’t stand by watching him in obvious pain yet not being able to help him because he wouldn’t let her. It reminded her too much of her father brushing off her worried questions whenever she’d asked him if he was okay, being strong for her so she wouldn’t worry.
She hated the thought of the same thing happening with Rafe. But she didn’t ask herself why she hated it, why it hurt so very much.
She very carefully didn’t think about it.
Yet as the days went by and the constant ache in her heart didn’t get any better, she realized that far from being happy he wasn’t coming for her, she was in fact disappointed. Bitterly disappointed.
Which didn’t make any sense. He’d chased her and chased her, manipulated her—not to mention manipulating his own father in order to get guardianship over her. And once he had, he’d used that power to force her to open herself up to him both physically and emotionally. All the while giving her nothing in return. She shouldn’t want him to keep on chasing her, right?
Her mind tried to tell her that, in fact, he had given her things, but she didn’t want to listen to her mind. It was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear, and she wasn’t ready for that.
Instead she went to her classes and rehearsals, to her practices, losing herself in dance during the day, while at night sitting in front of the television trying not to listen to the silence in the house or the loneliness in her heart.
“You’re only here because you’re too scared to be alone.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe that was the only reason she’d stayed with him. It sounded good in her head, but deep inside a small voice told her she was lying to herself.
The second week, she was gripped by a terrible fear that something had happened to him. That maybe after she’d gone, he’d cut himself again and that maybe he was in the hospital and that’s why he hadn’t come for her. Or worse, maybe he was dead.
The fear was so strong, she found herself grabbing her laptop and googling him, her fingers shaking on the keyboard as she typed in his name. There were many news stories about him, but the most recent one was a business article about a new deal DS Corp had signed with the military. A picture accompanied the article of him standing outside DS Corp surrounded by press—tall and powerful, very obviously alive.
The relief was as strong as the fear had been, and for long minutes she could only stare at his picture, trying to get her frantic breathing under control. He was okay. He was alive. He wasn’t dead in a morgue or unconscious in a hospital bed anywhere.
In picture he was smiling, the famous smile that charmed everyone he met. Handsome and charismatic, a powerful man at the height of career. Definitely not the man she’d seen sitting on the side of the tub that night in his apartment, knife in hand and blood slowly trickling down his wrist. The lines of his face had been drawn tight and he’d been pale, his eyes silver, all the blue gone. He hadn’t looked powerful then. He’d looked . . . vulnerable.
And you walked out on him.
Ella’s eyes prickled and she had to close the laptop before she burst into tears.
Of course she’d walked out. He’d told her to leave. He’d gotten angry and intimidated her. Said cruel things to her. Shouted in her face. It had been obvious that he hadn’t wanted her around, hadn’t wanted her to be there, so what was the point? She’d tried to help him and he hadn’t wanted her help. So what else was she supposed to do?
Come on, did you really try? Or did you use him as an excuse to run?
Ah, but those questions involved the thing she didn’t want to think about and so she shoved the laptop away and turned the TV on loud, drowning out the voice in her head.
The next day she visited Aurora in the private hospital Rafe had settled her in. It was a lovely place and Aurora’s room was on the ground floor with a view of the private garden, which Ella knew her grandmother liked.
Weak winter sunlight filled the room, making Aurora’s white hair on the pillow glow. She looked better than she had while Ella had been looking after her, which was a hard thing to admit, but it was true.
Aurora gave Ella a narrow look as she fussed with the flowers she’d brought, arranging them in a vase on the dresser by the windows.
“I don’t suppose you brought me any cigarettes?” It was always the first question she asked whenever Ella came to visit.
“No, of course I didn’t.” Ella tweaked one of the roses while giving her grandmother a long-suffering look. “You know the rules here.”
Aurora fiddled grumpily with her sheet. “Yes, yes. The nurses here are sadists.”
Ella turned her attention back to the roses, biting back a grin. It was all a front. Aurora loved both the place and the nurses, and they both knew it.
“You’re looking tired,” her grandmother commented after a moment. “Anything the matter?”
Damn. She’d thought her concealer had covered up the dark circles under her eyes.
Moving one of the sprays of gypsophila, she said, “No, I’m fine. Having a few issues sleeping, but nothing major.” She didn’t want to talk to Aurora about Rafe. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about Rafe.
“Hmmm.” Aurora sounded skeptical. “What about that young man of yours?”
The roses in Ella’s vision swam and it was a couple of seconds before she realized it was because her eyes were full of tears. She blinked fiercely, determined not to cry—and why the hell was she crying anyway? He wasn’t her “young man.” He wasn’t anyone’s young man.
“Oh, you mean Rafe?” She tried to make it casual. “Yeah, that didn’t work out.”
“What?” Aurora sounded genuinely puzzled. “But I thought you were happy? I mean, that’s what you told me a couple of weeks ago.”
Happy? She’d really told Aurora she was happy?
She tried to remember the last time she’d visited when she’d still been with Rafe. It had been a week or so earlier, the day before she’d left him in fact. She’d come to see Aurora after Rafe had decided that an impromptu winter picnic in Central Park was a great idea. There had been snow on the ground, so he’d cleaned off a park bench for her and they’d sat there with sandwiches and coffee still hot from the thermos and discussed travel and the places they’d wanted to go to. Rafe had been to Europe a lot in the course of his work, and he’d been telling her about Italy and how Rome was one of his favorite cities because of its history. They’d sat there for at least two hours, neither of them noticing the cold.
And when he had to go back to work, he’d dropped her off at the hospital, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose as she got out of the limo, smiling at her.
Yes, that had been a good day. And yes, she’d been happy.
Ella fiddled with another flower, swallowing against the pressing tightness in her throat. “Well, like I said, it didn’t work out.”
“Oh, stop fussing with the flowers and come and sit down,” Aurora said crossly. “I want to hear about it.”
“But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Bullshit,” the older woman muttered. “Come on, sweetheart. Sit down and tell your old grandmother what happened.”
It was the last thing in the world Ella wanted to do and yet she found herself sitting down on the bed with Aurora reaching out to take her hand, her grandmother’s dark eyes full of sympathy. And she realized she was crying.
“What did he do?” Aurora asked quietly. “Did he do something to you?”
Ella shook her head. She didn’t want to tell Aurora the specifics because that was Rafe’s story to tell, not hers. So all she said was, “No. It wasn’t anything like that. But . . . his childhood was terrible, Gran. And he suffered. And I think he’s still suffering, but he won’t talk to me about it. He won’t share anything with me about it. He won’t let me in.” She wiped away a tear. “I can’t stand by and watch him hurting while he holds me at a distance. I can’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Aurora patted her hand. “So he didn’t do anything specific then?”
“Oh, something happened and I tried to help him, but he wouldn’t let me. And he basically told me to get out.”
“So, what? You went?”
An odd defensiveness wound through her, though she had no idea why she should feel defensive. “He told me that he’d basically manipulated his father into signing over guardianship of me to him, just because he wanted me.”
Aurora frowned. “And?”
“Well, then he said some hurtful things.” Even as she said it, she knew it sounded . . . lame.
“Hurtful things,” Aurora echoed. “Uh-huh. And what else?”
Ella bit her lip. “He . . . yelled me at me. Told me to get out.”
“So you did.” There was no judgment in her grandmother’s eyes, and yet Ella felt oddly like crying again.
“What was I supposed to do?” she asked. “I tried to help him, but he didn’t want it. He was hurting, he was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do for him. “
Aurora shook her head. “Sweetheart, was it really the fact that he wouldn’t let you help? Or was it because you were too afraid?”
Ella blinked at her. “Afraid? Afraid of what?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. All I know is that you were happy with him. You were happier than I’ve seen you since you lost your mom and dad. And now, all of a sudden, you’re leaving him because he wouldn’t talk to you about something. Seems like a nice excuse.”
The thing she didn’t want to think about twisted in her gut. “It’s not an excuse, Gran,” she said, trying to keep the defensive note out of her voice. “What would you do with a man who won’t let you help him?”
Aurora cocked her head to the side. “I guess that would all depend on how I felt about him.”
For some reason the statement hit Ella like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, that if I loved him,” Aurora said gently, “wild horses couldn’t drag me away from him.”
“If I loved him . . .”
Yet again there were tears in her eyes and she didn’t know why. “He’s broken. He’s just . . . completely broken. I can’t fix him. I can’t help him. He won’t let me . . .”
Aurora’s dark eyes were very direct. “What are you so afraid of, Ella?”
Another punch, knocking all the air from her lungs. “I’m . . . not afraid,” she forced out. “I’m not.”
“Then what’s with all the excuses? Sure, he went about courting you all wrong and made a complete ass out of himself, but . . . he made you happy. Didn’t he?”
Ella looked away, taking her hand out from under Aurora’s and putting it in her own lap instead. Her heart was beating way too fast and way too loud, and there was something clenching like a fist in her chest.
Excuses. They weren’t excuses. Were they?
You know they are.
She took a shuddering breath. “I just . . . wish I could remember him, back from when I was a kid. I wish I remembered knowing him before . . . he got sent away.”
“Why would that make any difference?”
“Because then I’d know.” She groped for the words to explain. “Then I’d know if he was . . . a good person. Or just . . .”
Aurora made a scoffing sound. “I think that’s bullshit, Ella Hart. You don’t need to remember what he was like. You already know. But you’re not admitting it to yourself.”
The thing she didn’t want to acknowledge, an intense, desperate feeling that made her ache right down deep inside, twisted hard all of a sudden.
You do know how you feel about him. But you’re scared of it.
A tear dripped onto the back of her hand.
“He needs a lot, Gran,” she said thickly. “I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid I’m not strong enough for him.”
Her grandmother sighed. “No, sweetheart. That’s not what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of loving him.”
If her gran’s earlier words had been a punch, this was like a knife deep into her heart. She’d never thought about love, never even considered the possibility. Because love meant pain. Love meant loss. Love meant loneliness.
She didn’t want it. Just flat out didn’t.
And yet . . .
“I can’t.” Her voice was barely recognizable and she didn’t know who she was trying to tell, Aurora or herself. “I can’t, Gran. I can’t love him. What if I lose him? What would I do? I lost Mom and Dad . . . If I lose Rafe . . .”
Her grandmother’s hand rested gently on her back. “Then I guess you have to decide what’s more important to you. Is it your fear? Or is it him?”
“It’s not that simple.”
Aurora smiled. “Oh believe me, sweetheart. It is. It’s completely that simple.”
Her head fought, flooding her mind with all kinds of excuses, with all kinds of fears. Of pain and loneliness. Of heartbreak. Of grief and loss.
But her heart knew. Her heart remembered.
“Pain is pain.” he’d told her once. “It’s your mind that changes it, makes it either unbearable or worth suffering.”
Suddenly all she could see was him sitting on the edge of the tub and the look on his face as she’d walked in. The anger, and beneath that the shame. He hadn’t wanted her to see, and he’d reacted like a hurt animal, lashing out.
And she . . . she’d just walked away. He’d been in pain, and she’d left because she was scared. But not of him. She’d been scared of the feelings inside her, the pain she felt herself as she’d seen the cut on his wrist and the blood. The terrible combination of fury and shame and agony in his blue eyes.
She’d been thinking only of herself, while he’d needed her. In that moment, he’d needed her strength and she’d failed him.
“It hurts to dance, I know it does. But you control it, you’re the master of it. You don’
t let it stop you, just like you don’t let your fear get the better of you.”
Ella pushed herself up from the bed all sharply. “Gran, would you mind if I left now?”
Aurora eyed her. “Do I need to ask where you’re going?”
She was already skirting the bed, heading for the door. “No. But if anyone else asks, I’m going to see a man about a wolf.”
* * *
Rafe contemplated the view from his office in DS Tower. It was another shitty late winter day. A bit of sunlight trying to break through the heavy clouds, but it was obviously going to fail and there would be snow again by evening.
Good thing he had no intention of leaving the building any time soon.
He’d been here a couple of days already since there was no point going home—not when there was no one there—and as he was the boss, no one made any mention of him sleeping on the sofa in his office.
Except Lorenzo, who’d murmured a couple of things that made Rafe think the guy knew he was sleeping here, but then Rafe didn’t give a shit. He was a dedicated CEO. No one could fault him for that.
There was a soft knock on his door.
“Come in.” Rafe didn’t turn, watching the clouds move across the sky.
“Mr. de Santis? Someone delivered a note for you. It’s urgent.”
“Just put it on the desk, Gen.”
There was a silence and then he heard the door close.
He should probably look at the note, especially if it was urgent. But lately he’d started to feel as if none of this mattered. As if nothing really mattered. Strange when he’d spent all those years planning for his father’s downfall, planning for himself to take over the company. Show his father he wasn’t the broken boy who’d been sent away. That he was powerful and in control.
He didn’t feel powerful now, though. He just felt . . . empty. As if someone had reached inside and ripped out everything he was from him.
Someone? Her.
Fuck, no. He wouldn’t think of her. She was gone. She’d seen the truth of who he was and then she’d fled. And he’d let her.
It had taken every bit of strength he possessed not to go after her and drag her back. Every ounce of will not to make her return to him by any means necessary.
The Big, Bad Billionaire Page 20