by CC MacKenzie
And the only person who did know why was Louise O’Brien.
Her father.
Louise told her she had messed up father issues, and God knew that was the truth.
Another truth was if she truly loved Rafe with her whole heart and soul then none of the above would matter a damn.
The whole time she was thinking, Rafe was watching her.
And read the indecision on her beautiful face.
He also recognised she didn’t want to hurt him.
But what she could never know was that by saying nothing she’d broken his heart into tiny pieces.
And he’d no one to blame but himself.
Why hadn’t he been more patient?
Why had he blurted out the truth without even preparing her?
Because he’d seen the fear in those big eyes when she’d returned to his bedroom.
The intensity of their lovemaking had terrified them both.
Coco was scared of her feelings.
And when Coco was scared, Coco ran.
Time to suck it up, Rafael.
“I’ll take it from the deadly silence that you don’t return my feelings for you.”
How he kept his voice steady, the tone friendly, he’d never know.
“I care for you. You know I do. But I can’t give you what you need.” Her voice wobbled and for some reason that gave him hope.
“Can’t or won’t?”
Now those violet eyes sparked.
“What difference does it make?”
“Plenty. You still haven’t answered the question. Do you love me?”
The way her eyes filled, killed him.
Why was he forcing the issue like this?
Upsetting her like this?
“I can’t tell you that,” she whispered.
Well, looking on the bright side, she hadn’t said she didn’t love him outright.
It wasn’t much, but it was better than having no fucking hope.
He was about to speak when his cell rang.
Saved by the bell.
Why was he pushing her for an answer?
Coco watched him frown as he took the call.
“Hey, Ethan. What’s...”
Then his face changed and the old Rafael Cavendish, troubleshooter and Mr. Fix-it took over.
Whatever Ethan was saying brought Rafe slowly to his feet.
“When?”
By the way he was firing questions she knew something bad had happened.
“Tell Samson. The sooner Olivia knows the better. Yeah, I’ll let you know.”
He pressed end call, dropped his chin to his chest and breathed out a heavy sigh.
Then he turned to look at her.
The expression on his face along with the intensity in those dark eyes made her heart drum against her ribs.
The way he studied her for an unremitting moment had her mouth go bone dry.
Coco stared up into his face.
“What is it?”
He looked pale under his tan.
With care he guided her to sit on a couch.
He sat beside her, took her hand.
His eyes held hers.
“Sergei Kandinsky was found dead in his London home this morning. Killed by a single bullet to the head. It looks like a professional hit.”
All she could think was that at last Olivia and her son were safe.
But then the fact that a human being was dead and she was feeling relief smacked her hard.
What kind of person was she?
“Do they know why?”
He thought carefully before speaking.
“Kandinsky was an arrogant crook. And that arrogance meant he got careless. All I needed to do was to drop a few truths into the right ears. He deserved exactly what he got.”
Her heart was sprinting in her chest.
What on earth was he saying?
“You mean you wanted him dead?”
The way he shrugged again, as if a man’s life meant nothing had a roaring sound buzz in her ears.
Dark eyes cold as ice and utterly ruthless met hers.
Coco desperately hunted for some sign of regret in those eyes and found none.
“I wanted the threat of him gone from our lives.”
Appalled, she simply stared at him.
Who was this man?
“But... A man’s dead,” she whispered.
He kissed her stunned mouth.
“Yep. Once certain people found out he’d been skimming, he was a dead man walking. Get packed.”
Rafe picked up his cell and got to work.
What shocked her was the fact he appeared to believe she was happy to simply accept their part in a man’s death.
Coco couldn’t get her head around the awful truth that the man she loved didn’t feel remorse and appeared to have no conscience.
And not only that, but he expected her to feel the same.
Didn’t he know her at all?
In a daze she rose and wandered through the house, up the stairs to her bedroom.
Sinking to the bed, she held her head in her hands and rocked back and forth.
Omigod.
She’d never, ever wanted this.
Yes, the Russian had been a monster, but surely it was much better to let the law deal with him than this?
Yet again because of something she’d done a man was dead.
A vicious wave of nausea rolled over her, leaving her skin drenched in a cold sweat.
Her hands were shaking.
The rushing in her ears coincided with the room spinning.
Strong hands caught her before she fell, and thrust her head between her legs.
“Breathe,” Rafe told her in a harsh voice.
When she raised her head, her eyes latched onto his.
He’d been in the army and knew people, snipers, who...
“Tell me you didn’t...” She couldn’t articulate the words.
Now those dark eyes went sharp with anger, insult.
“You think I organised a hit man to kill him? What kind of man do you think I am?”
“I apologise,” she said quickly, placed trembling fingers on his arm. “It’s just that you said you had a plan.”
“Yes. To take out his network. He ran teams of international hackers, credit card fraud, and identity theft. You name it, he did it. He made millions daily, weekly. Do you know how many people don’t notice a few dollars here or a few dollars there being taken from their bank accounts? Millions of them, every month? Over time it adds up to big bucks.
“I discovered he was skimming from the people he worked for - an ex-KGB Oligarch. My team are better and smarter, and we alerted his master. I’d expected them to make a move on him but not this fast.”
Dazed, she blinked up into his face.
The reality of the situation hit her so hard she shuddered.
“So basically I’ve killed another man.”
“What?” Open mouthed, Rafe simply stared at her. “You cannot be serious.”
She knew he’d never understand.
“Just forget it,” she muttered and moved to stand.
But he pulled her onto his knees.
“Oh no you don’t.”
Strong hands cupped her face, tipped her head so she’d no choice but to meet the sheer disbelief in his eyes.
“Coco, you have to know you are not responsible for any of this.”
Was the man dense?
“Of course I am. I should have helped Olivia go to the authorities. If I hadn’t interfered. If I hadn’t...”
But his fingers against her lips stopped her in mid flow.
Dark eyes burning with belief in her held hers.
“If you’d helped her go to the authorities Olivia would most likely be dead. Kandinsky didn’t see her as a human being. He saw his wife as a possession. You need to hear what I’m saying. The first time Sergei Kandinsky took a rouble from his masters he was living on borrowed time. He signed his own death warrant. And th
at is the absolute truth.” Then he frowned at her in a way that made her eyes sting. “And what’s all this about killing another man?”
Heat scorched her cheeks.
A fat tear tipped over and he simply shook her gently.
“Coco, you can either stay stuck in the belief that you somehow deserved to be attacked, or you can get help to move on. Needing help doesn’t make a person weak or stupid, asking for help makes you strong. God knows you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
How could he possibly believe that?
“I ignored all the advice I’ve ever been given. I thought I knew better. Samson ordered me to stay where I was and I didn’t listen. It’s all my fault.”
“Utter nonsense.”
“And how do you know? You weren’t there!”
“I was there. For God’s sake the man was mentally ill! He hadn’t taken his medication for weeks, possibly months. How is that your fault? Don’t you think his doctors, family members, and everyone who knew him are wondering why they didn’t notice he was hyper, not eating or sleeping and focused only on you?”
Turning into him, her arms wound around his waist as she rested her forehead on his.
He couldn’t bear to see her eyes heavy with hurt, guilt and regret.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I made a mistake, Rafe. And a man’s dead.”
“How is that your fault? He was ill. He took his own life.”
“I know that. The therapist has been pretty clear. Most of the time I can get past it, but this thing with Sergei Kandinsky’s brought it all back.”
That made sense, and no wonder with everything that she’d gone through. But her thinking wasn’t logical.
He frowned now because he wondered if these feelings were why she’d taken a step back from Coco cosmetics and resigned.
She’d changed a lot and he hadn’t even noticed.
The Coco Monroe he held in his arms was a completely different woman to the one he thought he knew, and it was taking a bit of getting used to.
“You’ll get through it and I’ll help. I’d no idea you were torturing yourself.” His fingers stroked her cheek, tapped her forehead. “You keep everything in here and it’s not healthy.”
Olivia Kandinsky entered Coco’s mind.
Or more accurately the wisp like memory of the expression in Olivia’s eyes that she’d seen in another’s entered her head.
“I’m worried about Janine,” she said.
Their eyes met in quick recognition she was changing the subject.
She rose, and moved to the window wrapping her arms around her waist.
“Her husband abused her.”
“What makes you think that?” Rafe asked her after a long pause.
She turned to find his eyes on her, dark and clear and too intense.
And she wondered if he’d ever accept the reality of her work, her chosen career.
“She had exactly the same tortured look in her eyes I’ve seen before with Olivia. And she told me the day her husband died was the best day of her life.”
“How the hell did you get involved with First Step?”
Chapter Thirty Nine
The moment of truth.
Coco had always known this day would come.
She opened her heart.
“For years when I’ve been asked that question, in my head it was all about you. And I realise now that I was wrong. It wasn’t about you, Rafe. It was about me.” Her eyes caught his and held. “Do you remember my sixteenth, seventeenth birthdays?”
He blinked, nodded and smiled. “Sure. You were like a young colt, all legs and big eyes.”
She shook her head. “You always stood up for me. Whether it was with my father, my brothers, you always saw my side, my point of view.”
His eyes went soft. “You were a pistol. I adored you. I could see the green shoots of the woman you might become.” Then he frowned. “And then...”
“Yes? And then...?”
“You went to hell in a hand basket.”
“My eighteenth birthday.”
He heaved out a sigh.
Thrust his hands through his hair.
“Not my finest hour.”
“No. It wasn’t. You destroyed me.”
His eyes held hers and she read remorse, guilt.
“I know. And I’ve lived to regret it.”
If he did, he’d hidden it well.
“Regret what?”
“Regret not taking you then. Not making you mine. But I always knew if I took you it would be forever. At twenty-four I wasn’t ready for forever.” Now those eyes went too dark, too intense. “I’m ready for it now. You’re mine, Coco.”
The tone, the determination, made the extreme fear that lived in her heart rise to the surface.
“I belong to me,” she whispered.
Would he ever admit that she was entitled to live her own life the way she saw fit?
By the look on his face she sincerely doubted it.
Now his eyes went fierce. “And to me. What has this got to do with First Step?”
Staring at her clasped hands she puffed out her cheeks, exhaled.
“Everything. I’m not proud of what happened between us or how I handled it.” Her eyes flicked to his then back to her hands. “I was too young to cope with the hurt, the rejection. I suppose you could say I went off the rails. I started drinking, hanging out with the wrong crowd. I never did anything illegal. But I was always on the edge.
“It’s the only time my friendship with Louise faltered. She was so angry with me. Anyway, I got hammered one night. And ended up in a real dive in the West End. A flea pit. Two boys were kissing me, touching me. God knows what would have happened if Louise and Samson hadn’t turned up. I’ll never forget the moment when one boy put his hand up my skirt and Samson asked if he was fond of that hand because if he didn’t move it he’d break every fucking bone in it.
“Then the police raided the club. One young officer reminded me so much of you. I think it might’ve been the uniform. Anyway, one thing led to another and I was arrested. I resisted and spent the night in a cell.”
“Seriously?”
The way his voice went high with disbelief made Coco wince.
“Yep. When I awoke with a raging hangover, I realised I’d shared the cell with a girl. Her eyes and nose were running and she’d been beaten black and blue. We clicked. I told her about my father. You. Life. She laughed so hard, I thought she was going to be sick. Then she told me about her life.” Blinking frantically as the room swam, Coco cleared her throat as she remembered Rita’s hellish story. “I’ve never been so ashamed. I had people who loved me, who never used their fists or worse on me. I lived in a safe environment. She lived in fear of her life day in day out.
“Anyway, Samson and Louise got me out. We took Rita, her name was Rita Lucas, to a café for breakfast. And after five hours of talking, the embryo of the First Step foundation was born.”
Silence.
Her eyes met his and she read respect along with another emotion she didn’t recognise.
“What happened to Rita?” he asked softly.
Coco beamed.
“She’s the chief administrator for the foundation. She went to college, night school, got a degree and she’s studying for her MBA. When things get tough, when everything gets too much. I remember the girl in the cell with hair the colour of dirty straw.”
Of course she’d want to help.
Rafe felt twin surges of pride and a soul deep love for her.
But what underpinned those emotions was a sensation that felt something like terror.
What in the name of God did she think she was doing?
She was Coco Monroe, party animal, girl about town, and the face of Coco cosmetics.
She was not Coco Monroe, caped crusader or Wonder fucking Woman.
He wasn’t having it.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the fear, the fury, out of his voic
e.
“So you decided to be a one woman army for the abused and oppressed?”
He recognised her shock at his tone.
“Why are you angry?” she demanded.
She’d avoided answering the question and it seriously pissed him off.
“Because I care for you, dammit. I don’t want you surrounded by battered women. Or by the son’s-of-bitches who batter them either.”
Her chin tilted in that stubborn way that pressed his hot button every single time.
“You don’t get to make decisions for me about how I live my life, Raphael. You need to back off. First Step is my business and has nothing at all to do with you.”
Why was he arguing with her?
Why was he so tense?
The tension had been there since their intense love making session and got steadily worse as the day had progressed.
He was a man used to pressure.
In many ways he thrived on it, took it in his stride.
But not now.
He wanted Coco safe. He wanted...
And right there he realised he was not entitled to dictate or to have an opinion on how the woman he loved chose to live her life.
She wasn’t looking for commitment, marriage.
And she was right, he wanted all of those things, needed those things from her.
The truth hit him so hard he could hardly breathe.
Christ, he loved her so much.
“You listen to me.” He stalked over to her, pulled her into his arms. “I demand, actually, I fucking insist on more consideration from you. I love you. I loved you yesterday, last week, last month. I’ve probably loved you for fucking years. Stop pushing me away. It’s annoying and insulting. You might not want my love. That’s fine. It’s a free fucking country. But as long as I’m in your life we’re going to face things together and that includes First Step. So get used to it, doll face.”
“Why can’t you let me live my life and do the work that brings me fulfilment, joy?”
“I don’t have a problem with you doing any of that. But I need you safe. I can bring specialist protection techniques to the party. Technology that will help those women, those children. Don’t push my help away just because you have an issue with letting go.”
Stunned, she simply stared into this face and saw the truth.