Betrayed by Love

by Lila Dubois

  “You thought I wanted to stay with him?” How could he have thought that—he’d known she loved him.

  “Yes. I was stupid, so fucking stupid. But I was so afraid that I wasn’t enough for you I believed it.”

  “But.” Savannah sucked in a breath as the implications of his words came tumbling down around her. She was afraid to believe him. If what he said was true then he’d been tricked, they’d both been tricked. “But that means…” She pressed her hands to her face as sobs racked through her.

  “Roman,” she cried out. “Roman.”

  “I’m here.” He scooped her up, holding her with strong arms. Together they sank to the floor, Savannah on Roman’s lap. He whispered into her hair as she wept. He made promises that he could not keep—he would never leave her, nothing bad would ever happen to her—but they were what she needed to hear. Words she’d needed to hear five years ago.

  When her sobs had faded to hiccups, she eased off his lap and look up into his face. There were tears on his cheeks. She’d never seen him cry.

  “All this time,” she whispered. “All these years.”

  There was nothing to say. They’d each lived in a hell of their own making.

  “I did this to you.” He touched her cheek. “I can never repay the debt I owe you.”

  “I never wanted to believe… I was so in love with you.” Savannah was afraid to admit it, afraid to acknowledge what she’d felt because it had almost killed her to lose that love.

  “My heard broke when I got home and you were gone. I tried to find you.” Roman picked up her hand.

  “I know. I should have listened, I was… I was hurt.”

  His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out. “I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”

  “It’s been five years.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Roman was tense, as if ready for a fight. Here was the man she’d wanted to see kicking in the door and rescuing her. She’s had dreams about that very thing happening for the first year. It was as if her subconscious had known there was more to the story and tried to rewrite her memory for her.

  “I realize this is new to you, but for me it’s old. My scars have healed.”

  “Have they?” He rolled up his sleeve to show her the welt on his arm from the cane.

  Savannah looked away. “I can’t talk about it anymore.” She rubbed her arms. Her skin felt sensitive, as if every inch of it was new—healing from a wound. “Thank you, for telling me. I’m glad what we had wasn’t a lie.”

  “I loved you. Losing you broke my heart. If I’d known why I lost you, what my pride cost us…”

  He turned his head away and his profile was as stark as that of a roman general.

  Savannah wasn’t sure what she felt anymore. When it happened she’d been so hurt, both physically and emotionally, all she’d been able to feel was anger and betrayal. As the years passed and as she made her peace here in Savannah, she’d always wondered if there weren’t pieces of the story she was missing. But wondering hadn’t alleviated the darkness within her.

  “Savannah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like to go get some French fries?”

  A startled laugh escaped her. They’d met when they were both in college and poor as church mice as her grandmother would say. They’d met through friends and hung out together. When their flirting got to be too much for the rest of the group to bear, Roman had finally asked her out, something Savannah had been hoping for. With his limited budget, Roman hadn’t asked her to dinner or out for coffee. He’d asked her out to eat fries, which one of the campus eateries had on sale for a dollar.

  “Oh Roman.” She couldn’t keep her hands to herself anymore. She cupped his cheek. “We aren’t those people anymore. We can’t ever be the way we were.”

  “Then we’ll have to find new people to be.”

  “We should make peace with what happened and move on with our lives.”

  “Yes, we should. Our life.”

  “Just because you loved me—”

  “Love you, not loved. I love you. I never stopped.”

  Chapter Nine

  Roman stared at the woman he still loved, hoping there was something left of the girl who loved him in the battered and beautiful woman who stood before him.

  He still felt sick from the realization of what had really happened, and the need to find and murder Wilcox thrummed in him. But he was smarter now than he had been five years ago, and revenge and self-recrimination would have to wait. Now that he knew why she’d left him, the most important thing was making sure he never lost her again.

  Her eyes were luminous with tears. “I’m not that person anymore.”

  “I know that. I’m not either.” He took her hands in his. They were leaner, but still her hands, the ones he knew so well. “And maybe what’s happened is too much for us to overcome. If it is, I’ll accept that but,” he drew her close, cupped her cheek, “you’re the love of my life.”

  “Oh Roman.”

  She ducked her head under his chin, resting her cheek on his chest. Roman closed his eyes and held her tight, vowing to never let her go again.

  Savannah inhaled, drawing his scent in.

  They now knew the truth about what had happened five years ago, but the time between then and now was blank. Though she saw traces of the man she knew in the man he was now, the reality was that in many ways he was a stranger. The smartest thing to do would be to accept that they’d grown apart and walk away, if not as friends, then at least as cordial acquaintances.

  But she didn’t want that.

  As terrifying as it was, she wanted to love him again. Wanted to feel the way she had all those years ago.

  But she had no idea how to get there.

  She eased away from Roman’s hold and looked up at him, not sure what to say.

  He seemed to know, because he rubbed her cheek with his thumb and said, “Will you show me around your studio?”

  She gave him a tour of her pottery studio, leaving behind the painting studio and the disturbing drawings on the floor. As they toured the room she told him about moving to Savannah to live with her grandparents and how they’d helped her convert the barn. Roman quizzed her about how she handled the co-op aspect of the painting studio and then started jotting notes on how she needed to create a nonprofit, declare tax write-offs and check for arts grants.

  Without thinking, she said, “You do the business, I’ll do the art.”

  It was something she’d said to him a million times before. He’d pushed and prodded her into creating her first commercial pieces for hotels in L.A., all while she rolled her eyes at the business side of it. Her breath caught and she looked at him, wondering if he noticed what she’d said. He was looking at his phone, thumb tapping away.

  “You do the art, I’ll do the business,” he said, without looking up. It was the same way he’d always replied.

  She led him into the house, where they ate bowls of stew and homemade bread.

  “You can cook now?” Roman spooned up stew and moaned happily.

  “I could always cook.”

  “You were a terrible cook.”

  “You never said that!”

  “Of course not, I’m not stupid.”

  Savannah laughed. “I guess grilled cheese sandwiches weren’t really cooking. My grandma taught me when I moved here.”

  Roman raised the mug of tea he held and saluted the photo of her grandma. “My thanks to you, you fine woman.”

  “I wish you could have met her.”

  Their gazes met. “I wish I could have met her too.”

  “How’s your mom?”

  “Good. Worried about my love life.”

  Savannah smiled. Roman’s parents were smart, successful people who’d been incredibly inviting and caring. “I bet she is.”

  “She’s never forgiven me for losing you.”

  Savannah dunked some bread in her stew. “What did you tell them?�
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  “I told them you decided you wanted to be with an artist, not a real estate developer.”

  “And they believed that?”

  “No. My mom still asks me what really happened. She assumes it was my fault. Little did I know, it was.”

  “Roman, you—”

  “No, Savannah, it was my desire that took us there, my fear and pride that got you hurt. There’s no forgiving that.”

  “I should have stayed. I should have stayed in L.A. and talked to you.”

  They were silent for a moment before he asked, “What did you tell your parents?”

  “That you cheated on me.”

  He winced. “Ouch, okay.”

  “My dad wanted to kill you, but my mom still misses you.”

  “I always liked your mom.”

  “And I always liked yours. I think it’s cute that she’s worried about your love life.”

  “Well, I’m thirty-one and I’ve only ever had one serious relationship.”

  “You haven’t been with anyone, since…”

  “No.” He stared at the bowl. “Have you?”

  “No. I’ve had sex, which for a while I never thought I’d do again, but it was always one-night stands, and I was always drunk.” She shrugged, not wanting to talk about this but not wanting to keep anything from him.

  “I’ve been with a few woman, all subs, all as part of the lifestyle.”

  “So you’re still interested in it, BDSM.”

  “I am. When you left I thought it was because of that, so for a year or so I was heavily into it. I went to all the clubs, went to weekend retreats. I mastered every kink and fetish there was.” He dropped his spoon into his empty bowl. “I guess I was trying to make losing you worth it, convince myself I was better off without you.”

  Savannah looked down, examining the grain of the wood table. She didn’t know how she felt about this, wasn’t sure how she should feel.

  “And you… You’re the Lace Dominatrix.”

  She looked up. “That’s what they call me?”

  “Didn’t you know?”

  “No. I never wanted to have anything to do with BDSM, but there were times when…” She popped to her feet, taking their bowls into the kitchen. Roman followed her. “There were times when I could feel this darkness inside me. It was hate, it was anger, it was fear. I didn’t know how to make the feelings go away. I tried medication my doctor gave me, but it just made me numb, and when I was numb I couldn’t create.

  “I started going to clubs and watching. One night, as I watched these people play, enjoying something that had scarred me, I couldn’t hold back. I went and bought a mask—at this club wearing a mask meant you were willing to play. This woman came up to me and offered me her sub. She told me he’d been bad and needed to be punished.

  “I hadn’t said I was a Domme. I’d hoped to find someone who would just,” Savannah slashed one hand through the air, “who would just hurt me, make my body hurt the way my soul did.”

  Roman made a sound of pain and reached for her, but she held a hand up, keeping him back.

  “But they all assumed I was a Domme. I took him, the sub she offered me. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but as I looked at him something inside me just came apart. I pushed him, body and mind. I wanted to see him hurt the way I had…while at the same time I wanted to save him from the darkness.” She shook her head. “I’m not good with words, so maybe this doesn’t make sense, but at the end of the session I watched him go back to his Domme, who’d hugged and kissed him.

  “It became my obsession. I wanted to see that moment, when the sub walked away from the scene into the arms of someone who loved them. It made me feel like maybe I’d saved them, even if the only thing they were in danger from was me.”

  Roman was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read.

  She tried to shrug it off, turning to the sink to rinse out their bowls.

  “You saved them, because no one saved you.” Roman pressed his chest to her back. “You were trying to rewrite you own story.”

  “Yes,” she sighed, glad he understood.

  “You’re the most amazing woman I have ever, and will ever meet.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.” Roman backed up, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll wash if you dry.”

  Savannah nodded slowly, then stepped back to let him get at the sink. As he passed by her, she reached out and touched the welt on his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

  When the dishes were washed, they headed for the living room where they curled up on the couch. They talked about Roman’s business in Chicago, about the buildings she had pieces in—Roman was less than pleased to find out she’d done signature pieces in several of his biggest competitors’ buildings. She showed him photos of her posing with the installed pieces, and he pulled up websites for buildings he owned. When the conversation dwindled, Roman went to the bookshelves and found some book on WWII, while Savannah grabbed a sketchbook and pencil. They stayed like that late into the night, happy and at peace in each other’s company. It was as if no time had passed.

  When Roman yawned, Savannah flipped the cover over her sketchbook.

  “Would you like to stay the night?” she asked.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a beautiful house,” Roman said as he put the book back on the shelf. He touched the molding that surrounded the built-ins. “A good place.”

  “I feel safe here.” Savannah got to her feet.

  “There’s property to be developed in Georgia. I could…I can move my business here.”

  Savannah whipped around to face him. “I don’t think we’re in a place to talk about that.”

  “Probably not, but I wanted you to know I was serious.”

  “I thought we were just going out to eat fries.”

  “We can do that too.”

  Savannah shook her head. “Still planning ten steps ahead.”

  “I try.”

  “Roman, I don’t know if I can be in a relationship.”

  “I’ll wait until you’re ready. I’ll buy a place in the city. We’ll date.” He said it with such excitement she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Don’t you think we’re past dating?”

  She led him up the stairs to the bedrooms. She’d redone her grandparents’ room for herself, and a second bedroom was full of family papers and pictures she promised herself she’d sort someday, but there was a guest room that was always ready to receive someone. Her grandma had taught her that.

  “All I know is that whatever it takes, whatever you need, I’ll give it to you,” Roman said as she ushered him into the room.

  “I think you mean that.”

  “I’ve never meant anything more.”

  Savannah looked at him, then whispered, “Good night, Roman.”

  * * * * *

  He couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the bed, which was slightly lumpy and squeaked when he moved, nor was it the disquieting lack of city sounds that kept him up.

  Savannah was just down the hall. He imagined he could hear her breaths, feel her body in his arms.

  He’d lain awake for hours going over what he’d learned today. Nothing was the way he’d imagined it. He had to not only rewrite his understanding of that fateful weekend, but to rewrite his understanding of who he was. What had been done to her was still fresh in his mind. When he closed his eyes he saw the image of her, bound and hurting, helpless. He wanted to rush in and rescue her, but he couldn’t rescue her from the past. She’d rescued herself and made a life from the ruins of what they’d been.

  The girl he’d known five years ago was gone, lost to the past, but Savannah was still the only woman he’d ever love. He believed there was one perfect match for each person on Earth, and he’d been lucky enough to find his.

  He’d lost her once, he wouldn’t lose her again.

  Roma
n sat up in bed. There was no use trying to sleep. He’d grab his phone and answer some emails until it was light enough to go out for a run. As he stood and stretched he got a strange feeling, a tingling in his hands and down his back. He dropped his arms and went to the window.

  From his second-floor window he had a view of the grassy lawn between the house and the barn. He could also see the wrapped second-floor porch, which perched on top of the front porch and stopped one room over.

  Standing in the moonlight, wearing nothing but a short robe, was Savannah.

  Savannah closed her eyes and let the night air wash over her. She couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t surprising. She now had to unravel the things she’d believed the past five years and create a new understanding of what had happened. She was both happy and relieved that she hadn’t been wrong about her love and her relationship—Roman had loved her—and bitterly sad that they’d both been fools and wasted something precious.

  But now the truth was out, and Roman was here.

  The question was, what would happen next.

  There was a quiet knock on the bedroom door. Savannah turned her back to the porch rail. Through the glass doors she saw the bedroom door open. Roman wore his suit pants and nothing more. His bare chest was hard with muscle, his eyes hawklike in their intensity. He paused in the doorway that led from the master bedroom onto the porch.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Savannah felt as if she stood on a precipice. She could either turn away or jump off the edge. Neither was safe, neither was guaranteed to make her happy.

  “I’ve dreamed of seeing you again. I wondered what it would be like if I found you. I knew I missed you, knew I wanted you.” His words were low and intense, as if ripped from deep inside him. “I knew I still loved you. But I never thought that when I saw you again I would feel like I’d finally come home.”

  A sob caught in Savannah’s throat. Home.

  He’d been her port in the storm, the grounding she needed. He’d been home, and when she lost him she’d lost that sense of belonging. She’d made do here in Savannah, but it had never really been home.