“I fulfilled my end of the contract, Marcellus. You got what you wanted. So did the Council. I’m through with them,” he says, leaning in. “And with you.” It is a promise and a threat in one.
I clutch the Champagne flute, my eyes darting back and forth at the staring contest they are having. I’m nervous again, like I was in the restaurant. I try not to shiver but near splash my Champagne, which seems to draw their attention to me. Marcellus flicks his gaze to me and then back to Blake. I set the flute down on the stage and nervously watch the exchange before me.
Finally, Marcellus relaxes and smiles charmingly. Without looking at me, he tells Blake, “She was beautiful the first time I met her, and now, she is even more radiant. Truly, your wife is a jewel here tonight. A jewel meant to be held somewhere safe from the likes of us.”
I flush again, and my hand trembles a bit. My nerves are tightly strung and the urge to cling tightly to Blake grips me. This exchange is confusing. Marcellus is radiating sex appeal, and Blake is vibrating in anger. The staring war continues, and I take a step back. They exchange a few more words and then Marcellus beams at me, dips his chin slightly, and turns to leave.
Blake’s free hand grips my elbow, and I blink a bit at how powerful his fingers are. I slightly jerk my elbow from his grip, and he releases me with a mumbled apology. But his eyes are on the retreating back of Marcellus. I watch Blake as he scans the room. His jaw clenches when his gaze finally settles on three more people. I drag my eyes from his profile and follow his gaze. Across the room are Deverell, Inara, and Natalia.
I turn my face up to Blake and squeeze his forearm a bit. “Who is Marcellus to you?” He seems so upset. I know what he’s told me, but this looks as if it is something so much more.
“He’s no one.” He says this without taking his eyes off the trio. Only when Marcellus reaches them does Blake flash me a gentle smile as if nothing is wrong. “I need you to stay around me tonight, all right?”
“Sure.” I hear his tone. He was concerned and still is, but it’s not like I am going to go anywhere. I do not know anyone, and small talk is not something I manage well. “Is everything okay?”
Blake turns his face to me, softening. He searches my eyes. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His hands go to my face, gently cupping my cheeks.
“Hurt me?” I echo and shake my head a bit, my hands covering his. “I—don’t think so. He was... I felt like I couldn’t think.” I drop my hands when he moves his away from my face.
His harsh swear makes me jump, but then his hands are on my cheeks again, and he lowers his forehead to me. “I am sorry, Marina. Just stick close to me tonight.” Blake looks out into the sea of people and clenches his jaw once again. Then his gaze softens at me once more. “Come. Let me introduce you around to people you don’t know and won’t remember and feel uncomfortable around.”
I smile at him, and he relaxes, but I am wondering why he is sorry. “Thank you,” I say instead, replying to his tease.
He grins at me, and his blue eye pierces into mine once again. I’m held captive once again. But this time, I feel secure, and I know without a doubt that things have shifted between us.
He takes my elbow, guiding me through the throngs of guests. I meet the Mayor and a few congressional representatives who are in the process of passing a bill to allow the hospital to do something meaningful. I meet a few law enforcement officers who are to be honored tonight for their bravery and work, a few doctors, and finally, some nurses who are also to be honored for their dedication. Eventually, we find our way to the side of the stage, and Blake takes my now empty flute and sets it on a passing server’s tray. He smiles at me, and I love his smile—it’s for me.
“I have to make a speech,” he tells me. “Wait right here and do not leave.”
I jerk a bit in surprise as he kisses my cheek and leaves me at the corner of the stage. “Okay.”
My hand presses to the side of my cheek, and a slight smile graces my lips. It was so spontaneous and sweet. I may have wanted to die five days ago, but now—now, I’ve reconsidered. What if I explored what Blake had to offer me? He’s so polar opposite of—the other—that it throws me off. I watch him, standing confidently on the stage, looking regal and handsome in that fitted tuxedo. My heart skips a beat. His speech is only a few minutes, but in those few minutes, I suddenly realize I do care for him—and I’m frightened by it.
How could this have happened—and in so short a time? Would he care for me in return? I bite my lip, thankful Brad insisted on a lipstick that stays put for hours. Gone are my thoughts of death. Gone are my thoughts to embarrass him. Gone are any thoughts except how he looks in his suit—and how melodic his voice is as he speaks.
“Mrs. Harland, we meet once again.”
I stiffen at the sound of the voice and flush at my designation. Then I turn, and a slow smile graces my face. “Mr. Fortini. What a pleasure!” Finally, a familiar face. He looks tired tonight and pale. Four men stand a slight distance away, keeping their eyes out for—well, whatever they need to keep an eye out for.
“Marriage has been kind to you, I see.” He takes my hand in both of his once again. He glances at my husband. “Quite a speech he is giving.”
“Yes.” We watch Blake on stage for a bit. “What brings you here?” I ask the inane question, but he smiles.
“I try to do my part in charity. I was hoping to meet Blake here tonight as well.”
“Business?” I wasn’t aware that Blake had any business with Mr. Fortini. As far as I knew, Blake didn’t run in the circles that Mr. Fortini did.
“Of sorts. You are well, I take it?” His gaze slides away from my eyes. His eyes flick over my face to my neck, but it stops there before he meets my eyes once again.
“I am well, thank you. Are you?—Well?” I return the question. He doesn’t look healthy. In fact, he seems worse now than the day I saw him at my wedding.
“I’m a bit tired tonight. At my age, it is probably too much excitement—or it’s all the beautiful ladies here tonight.” He winks and smiles.
I grin at him. “Certainly, you are not old!” I say. But he looks worn out tonight, and I wonder at his pallor. It is such a stark contrast from even a week ago.
“Such a sweet child, er, young lady.”
Our gazes slide up to the stage where Blake finishes his speech and introduces the next speaker. He steps aside, claps politely, and then exits the stage. He seems surprised to see Mr. Fortini, but greets him companionably. The next speaker’s words fill the air behind us.
“I would like to steal a moment of your time, Mr. Harland.” Mr. Fortini says, gesturing off to the side.
“Of course.” Blake looks at him quizzically.
“Alone,” Mr. Fortini clarifies. “Excuse us, my dear.”
I nod and watch the two of them walk a short distance off. Mr. Fortini’s hand goes to Blake’s arm, and their heads duck to each other as if speaking in hushed tones. Blake’s jaw tightens, and a look of concern flashes over his features before disappearing altogether. Mr. Fortini’s face is impassive, giving nothing away. Blake gives Mr. Fortini the once-over and then gives a curt nod. The two shake hands, and Mr. Fortini walks away with his four men.
Blake comes to stand before me, and I meet his eyes. “Everything okay?” I watch Mr. Fortini walk away with his four men.
He gives me his smile, the one for me. “Everything is fine. Ready to leave?”
I’m surprised for a moment. “Aren’t you the star of the show? Don’t you have to stay?” I look around the room in concern. Mr. Fortini has reached the doors on the other side of the room. I want to ask about his conversation, but he seems subdued, and so I keep quiet.
“No. I’ve given my thank-you speech. We’ve raised over two million dollars already. I’d call that a good night.”
His smile is genuine, even as I stand with my mouth open. “Two million—” I’m flabbergasted. I don’t run in these circles. “How did you get involved with th
is hospital?”
“Mostly for tax write-offs,” his answer comes quickly. “However, beyond that, Mr. Fortini has a way of compelling the rich to donate to his causes. Initrof Charities works closely with this hospital, and an employee of mine had a child there at one time. I bought a wing of the hospital to support the cause.”
“You bought a wing of a hospital?” I echo, still confused.
Blake grins at me. “Only in the sense that they named it after me. I just make sure to keep contributing to the cause.”
“Initrof Charities?” I furrow my brow. “It’s backward.” I smile, catching on. “He’s pretty smart.”
“Mr. Fortini set up the charity because he lost a child. Now, he doesn’t want anyone else to suffer and does what he can to help out families needing medical assistance. So, I took up donating and organized a fundraiser quite a few years ago, and now it is a yearly event. This will help all families who bring their children to this hospital.”
I gaze into my husband’s eyes even as he meets my own. I grasp his hand, looking at the strong fingers, and thread mine through. He’s not what I would have expected. Not in the least. And I wonder how I got so lucky. He places his hand on my lower back and guides me through the sea of people, stopping to pump hands, say thank you, and small talk with promises of dinner arrangements. We finally make it to the Limo. The chauffer appears to exit the driver’s side, and Blake quickly waves him back. He opens the door for me, and at the last minute, I remember Brad’s training and succeed in not flashing anyone my ass or boobs.
Blake slips in beside me, and I sit a little straighter, a little closer, not quite touching. He taps the partition, which is up, and soon we are moving away from the venue. I stay silent for a moment, suddenly afraid. I want to wipe my palms on my dress and refrain. If Brad saw the oily marks, he’d whip me with the dress. Probably not, but then, I’m not sure. Either that or he’ll call it Last Season and dispose of it.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Blake’s voice cuts into my revelry.
My lips part, and I angle my head to him. His blue eyes are curious, kind. My heart skips a beat. “Yes. Thank you for bringing me.” My fear just surfaced because I want to kiss him.
He regards me for a moment. “Did you think I would not?”
“After the reception, yes.” I turn away, fiddling with my dress. I don’t think I can straighten it out anymore, but my hands are restless.
I feel his hand cover mine, and he raises it up gently. His hand is firm over mine, and his lips press to the back of my hand. Surprised, I jerk my eyes to his. Then tears spring to my eyes. I try for my hand, and he holds it still, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He turns my hand over, palm up, and traces the inside of my wrist with his forefinger.
Shivers race down my spine.
“Did I bruise you terribly?” He lowers his lips to my wrist.
I exhale, my heart racing; my breath gone. “No,” I whisper, struggling against the dizziness—the sudden pleasure of his touch. My stomach feels funny, and my thighs press together in response.
“I left my thumbprint.”
“I’ve had worse,” I whisper, unthinking. I cannot get my voice to work. What are his lips doing there, teasing, his lips pulling at the delicate skin on my wrist. What magic is this? I go limp. His lips tug at the sensitive skin, and I near collapse and slouch in my seat even as Brad’s words echo through my head.
“Will you forgive me?” he asks in that melodic voice of his.
He already was. “Y-yes.” He releases my wrist, and I hold it to my chest with my other hand. I still can’t breathe.
His eyes hold my own, crinkled in the corners once again, with a slight curve to his lips. My gaze slips there, and soon he’s closer to me. His hand goes behind my neck, his fingers at the base of my skull, pulling me close. His lips mere inches from mine, ready to claim me, make me his.
He pulls me closer, and I can’t get away. He tangles his fingers in my hair and assaults my mouth, never letting me breathe. I begin to hyperventilate and push away, trying to claw his face. He laughs at my distress and tears at my shirt. He won’t stop, and I cannot stop him. I’m too young for this! Get away!—I scream at him, trying to hit him, but he captures my wrists and pushes me back against the wall. I’m smaller and weaker, and he doesn’t care. He won’t stop.
He never stopped.
“Marina!”
I try to climb to his voice. Yes! Please help me! Blake will keep me safe. I need to get to him—where is he? I’m trapped in that space between horror and the now. But Blake is calling my name, and I keep swimming up. I see the blue—blue—blue-eyes. My hand goes to his cheek, and he covers it with his own. He is holding me, comforting me. Concern etched in his face.
I’m not suffocating anymore. He’s here—right here before me. He’s holding me in his powerful arms, and I am safe from everything that used to be. He whispers to me, and while I don’t catch all the words that echo in my head, the tone soothes me, and I relax in his embrace. Effortlessly, he scoops me up and cradles me, my forehead to his cheek, and still, he rocks me and holds me and tells me that I am his and no one will hurt me again.
Blake
WHEN SHE WALKED DOWN the stairs, it was all I could do to keep my hands to myself. She stood before me, and I wanted to take her back upstairs, peel off the dress—slowly—kissing my way along her flesh. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, and at that moment, it was just her and me. I almost didn’t want to go to my own fundraiser! I definitely didn’t want anyone to see her. She was mine and for my eyes only. However, on the heels of that thought, I wanted to show her off. Look everyone!—Look what I have.
She was the epitome of social grace and handled the throngs of people with finesse, as if she was born to it. Oh, I heard her heartbeat and how she used some breathing techniques to steady herself. It made her that more endearing. When I gave my speech, I glanced at her, and she had such a look of adoration I near forgot my lines. I couldn’t wait to get her out of the party and into the Limo.
I don’t know what made me think of the bruise as we drove away, but I wanted to kiss away her hurt. There was no bruise there, but my actions must have hurt all the same. I had even used a gentler touch on her when I held her wrist that night. I am just that strong, and I have to watch myself where she is concerned. In the privacy of the Limo, I wanted her.
She was begging me to kiss her all night, whether or not she realized it. I just had not expected her reaction once I had. She had closed her eyes, and I smiled at her. When I slanted my lips over hers, she was responsive. I thought maybe I had gotten through to her. Maybe I didn’t imagine the shift in our relationship. But then she disappeared from me, and I had to subdue her flailing fists as she cried out for me to stop.
I knew immediately that she did not mean me.
I knew immediately that I was going to kill the man who did this to her.
Chapter Ten
Marina
BLAKE HOLDS ME AS I get myself together. I look for marks on his skin if I’ve hurt him, but I do not see any. Some part of me thought I would have, but the other part knew that even if I had managed to damage his skin, it wouldn’t last because of what he is. He still cradles me, safe in his lap, but his face is turned to the window. He relaxes a bit and then his handsome face is towards me once again.
He angles his face to me. “Are you all right?”
I can only nod, and he does not release me. His touch is comfort, and I’m still processing my flashback. He leans back and cradles me into him. I fit here; I realize. Like I was made for him. I bring my hand up to cup his cheek as his forehead presses into my cheek.
In a quiet voice, I say, “I’m sorry about the dress. I was angry and...”
“It’s okay,” he squeezes me.
“No, not really,” I protest. He is so strong. So safe. His comfort is calming me and bringing me back to rational thought. I need to apologize for that day, for ruining the dress. I need him to understand a
nd forgive me. “I wanted to hurt you for... I wanted out of my hell and out of the hell I thought I’d have with you.”
“Death.” His words seem to echo in the Limo cab, and I can only nod my head.
“I want it. Even now, I feel its pull on me—the sweet release it will give me. The way it will take from me my pain, my memories, and I won’t have to think of my short life ever again.”
He kisses my cheek, my eye where a tear has formed. He holds me securely, and I know I will not fall. The strength in his arm behind my back and the strength of his hand as he cups my cheek. I turn my face to him, and he kisses me, gentle, soft, undemanding, giving only what I seek to take from him.
And as my lips press against his, he waits for my pressure, my insistence—he waits for what I want to do. He is not demanding, forceful, nor does he overwhelm me with his need, and I feel it underneath me. For as much as he wants me right now, he will not press me, demand of me, nor take from me that which I do not give.
I pull back an inch, our heads still touching. “I was alone in the restaurant. I was closing up for the night when my father’s friend came in. He said he was looking for my dad. I told him my dad had left for the evening. He offered to help, and I agreed.” I stop as his arms squeeze me, his eyes shut as if in pain as I speak. “I didn’t think twice. He was a friend of my father’s. I went into the back, down the hallway that leads out to the trash in the alley. I locked the door and turned around. And he was right there. I was confused as to why he had followed me when I had told him I was just going to lock the back door. I asked him what he wanted.”
“Marina!” Blake’s voice is a harsh whisper.
“I was thirteen. My father left me to lock up by myself, and I thought nothing of it when his friend offered to help me. I thought I’d be safer. Not that I was afraid. I tried to tell my dad, but he didn’t believe me and accused me of leading his friend on.” I squirm a bit, and Blake loosens his hold on me. “I was stuck in my father’s world. I had no money of my own. He would take all my tips. He never paid me. I was at his mercy. I had no friends.”
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