Driving Him Wild

by Zara Cox

  ‘Or maybe there’s a third option? How about gratitude? Wanting you to feel affection? Warmth? Conversations that didn’t start and end with who could hurt whom worse or whatever version of hell you were too scared to face this Christmas?’

  Her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. Furiously, she blinked them away. ‘I don’t need you to deliver whatever message you feel you need to deliver. I’ve survived holidays with my family for the better part of two decades.’

  ‘And you still choose to accept things the way they are? What are you, Graciela? Deluded or coward?’

  The blood drained from her face, her eyes turning into twin pools of torment.

  I dragged my fingers through my hair as my words replayed in the shocked silence.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Showing her that her powerful words had changed my relationship with my mother was one thing. But this...?

  Hell, I hadn’t even got around to telling her why we celebrated Christmas on the twenty-fourth instead of on the traditional Christmas Day we used to celebrate in England.

  She started to walk away. I held on. ‘Wait. There’s something I need to tell you...’

  ‘You want to give me more of the same, you mean?’ Her voice was ragged, her face still tight.

  ‘I’m sorry. Dammit, that came out wrong. So fucking wrong.’

  She held my gaze for a blazing moment. ‘I can’t leave without appearing rude. I can’t order you to take me away from here because that would make me a bitch who’s stealing the precious son away at Christmas. So I guess I’m fully immersed in your little experiment, aren’t I?’

  Without waiting for my response, she darted into the living room, the centre of revelry. For the rest of the evening, she placed at least half a room width between us, finding an excuse to distance herself whenever I got close.

  If my mother and stepfather noticed, they decided on diplomatic silence. Merete, my sister, however, repeatedly shot me questioning glances, which I silently warned her not to vocalise.

  Merete tended to shoot her mouth off before she engaged her brain. As much as I loved her, I wasn’t in the mood to accommodate her adorable foibles tonight.

  Not when I could feel the woman who’d gained monumental importance in my existence slipping through my fingers. The loud, obnoxious gong sounded for dinner. I rushed to my feet, crossed the room towards Graciela.

  She ignored me, turning instead to Mikkel, Merete’s five-year-old son, who’d spent most of the evening gazing at her in wide-eyed adoration. ‘Would you like to show me where I’m sitting, Mikkel?’

  He nodded eagerly, and I couldn’t help the bite of jealousy I felt towards my nephew. I followed, my spirits sinking lower when I clocked the place-settings.

  I was seated as far away from Graciela as possible, next to Merete. I gritted my teeth, suspecting my sister had been instrumental in the arrangements.

  Short of making a scene, I had to let it go.

  Dinner was a loud, boisterous affair. But Graciela picked at her meal, offering a shallow smile as my sister peppered her with questions. I wasn’t surprised when she excused herself the moment the second course was cleared away, to go to the bathroom. I stared at her back as she disappeared down the hallway, refocusing on my family when the throat cleared loudly. My mother was staring at me, her gaze a mixture of curiosity and sympathy.

  ‘Whatever’s going on, son, you need to fix it. Fast.’

  I nodded, a curious little lump in my throat as I contemplated hunting her down again. Going down on my knees to beg forgiveness. I didn’t give a fuck who saw me. But perhaps it was best to give her a little time to cool down?

  Five minutes later she hadn’t returned, and my foot was bouncing again.

  Bloody hell.

  Was it supposed to be this complicated? Was reaching for the most perfect thing I’d ever experienced supposed to be this hard?

  I snorted under my breath. Of course it was. I’d nearly lost a couple of fingers climbing mountains all over the world. But regardless of how treacherous and agonising the climb, it was worth it every single time once I reached the summit. That kind of euphoria was indescribable.

  It might have backfired spectacularly today, but there was always tonight. And tomorrow.

  * * *

  Cold, misery-filled shivers rippled down my body as I sat through the rest of dinner. They continued to surge, drowning out the sound of merrymaking until only my mother’s voice remained in my head.

  He’s trying to prove his point. You’re a charity case. The poor little rich girl he’s taken pity on because he’s got nothing better to do. You read his invitation and allowed yourself to dream. Deep down you know you’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.

  I barely heard Jensen making his excuses to his family. Barely registered that we were leaving when he approached, my jacket in his hand. I held myself stiffly as he helped me into it. Desperately holding onto the last reserves of composure as I said my goodbyes.

  In silence, we walked out to the car in the freezing cold.

  I felt his penetrating gaze on my face as I slid into my seat, through the tense drive back to his apartment. My heart thudded dully as I walked through his front door.

  A few hours ago, I’d been elated that he was sharing his private space with me. Just as he’d shared his cabin in Alaska. This was a bigger deal, of course. And, contrary to the guard I’d wanted to place around this whole visit, I’d fallen in love with his apartment the moment I walked in.

  It wasn’t so much the stunning view outside the glass windows, but the testaments to his brilliance scattered everywhere. He loved what he did and wasn’t afraid to show it. He didn’t need to brag about his talent. The evidence was everywhere. His apartment felt like home in a way that I hadn’t felt at home anywhere else for a very long time.

  But...it turned out I was deluded. I glanced at my case, sitting there on the floor, waiting to be scooped up again sooner rather than later.

  Stomach in miserable knots, I went towards it. ‘I’m going to stay in a hotel tonight.’

  He grunted an angry sound, one of the first I’d heard him make. ‘No, you’re not. This is insane. You don’t need to leave, Graciela. Let’s talk about this.’

  I turned on him, anguish and fury boiling inside me. ‘Again with the talking? Fine. Admit what you hoped to achieve by taking me to your parents’ tonight.’

  He stalled for a moment and then his lips firmed. ‘For most of my childhood we celebrated Christmas the English way, until my mother decided to revert to the Danish way of celebrating the day before. Do you want to know why?’

  I shook my head, impatient with his deviation.

  ‘It’s because my father ruined every Christmas for us, without fail, for as long as I could remember. He’d pick a fight over the smallest thing, use it as an excuse to ruin the whole fucking day. One time, my mother stood up to him, and he destroyed all the presents. Smashed everything to pieces with a fucking baseball bat.’

  I flinched, my heart going out to him despite my own despair.

  ‘When she met Dag, they decided to revert to Danish tradition, head off the day before bad memories ruined it.’

  ‘Well, I guess it was a good way to counter what your father did, but by not celebrating both days, wasn’t he winning?’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, we still celebrate Christmas Day, but over the years, the Danish celebration has become a bigger deal.’

  ‘A bigger deal you wanted to throw me in at the deep end of, to see whether I sank or swam?’

  His face hardened. ‘You really think I would do that to you? Deliberately sabotage your happiness?’ His voice was rough. Ashen.

  ‘I don’t know. Tell me why you did it.’

  ‘Because I wanted you to be happy!’ he all but bellowed.

  ‘Why? Why does th
is mean so much to you?’

  He exhaled harshly. ‘Do you remember what my mother said when she opened the door?’

  I frowned. Shrugged. ‘Something about bringing a guest?’

  ‘No, the bit about having to beg and plead for me to visit.’

  ‘Yeah. So?’

  ‘So I avoid going home as much as I can. Excuses were easy to find and I wasn’t ashamed to use them.’

  ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’

  ‘I walked you to your door last week, then drove straight to the airport. Because something you said pulled the rug from under me. Made me see what a selfish bastard I’d been to my mother.’

  My heart kicked. ‘Something... I... What did I say?’

  ‘That she was trying to protect me by keeping the painful details of what my father was doing to her from me. I’d secretly blamed her for years for staying, failed to see her choices were limited. It’s easy to stand back and judge. And I’d judged her harshly until you forced me to face the truth. Taking you home with me tonight... I wanted you to see what you’d done for me. Show my gratitude. Instead, I fucked it up.’

  The different, enlightening slant to the whole evening shook my world. He’d invited me here to witness something beautiful. Something wonderful I’d helped create.

  The haggard sob caught me by surprise. Jensen too, from his stunned expression. Then he cursed. ‘What the fuck did your mother do to you?’

  Instantly, a vice tightened around my heart. ‘Jensen...no,’ I warned.

  ‘No, I really want to know. What did her letter say?’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ I bit out through lips gone numb with pain.

  ‘Oh, but I think it is. Because here you are, on the verge of throwing away something precious because you can’t or won’t move from the past.’

  More icy shivers drenched me. ‘God, you’re really in full flow tonight, aren’t you?’

  He dragged desperate fingers through his hair, his eyes spearing into me. ‘I have to. Because I want you, Graciela, min elskerinde.’

  My heart shook, as it did every time he called me that. ‘You will not call me that again,’ I said, my voice firm enough to make him freeze.

  For a moment, stark bleakness darkened his eyes. ‘You have my word. I won’t address you like that again until you ask me to. But I meant it when I said I want to know what she said to you.’

  With compulsion I couldn’t stop, my gaze darted to the handbag I’d dropped on the sofa when we arrived.

  His gaze followed mine, enlightenment and shock sharpening his eyes. ‘Jesus, you carry it with you?’

  I glared at him. ‘So what if I do? What’s it to you?’

  His lips flattened as he strode across the room.

  ‘Don’t you dare—!’

  He grabbed the bag and held it out to me. ‘Show me,’ he growled.

  ‘No.’

  Tense seconds ticked by, then he dropped the bag on the coffee table. ‘Fine, if you won’t show me, then get rid of it.’

  Anguished ravaged my insides. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘You heard me. I’m not sure how long you’ve been carrying that toxic thing around with you, but you need to get rid of it, Graciela.’

  ‘I don’t know where the hell you get off—’

  ‘I get off where I fucking love you so much it kills me that you won’t give yourself a chance to be happy!’

  My heart dropped to my toes, my brain ceasing to function. ‘You...what?’

  He reached out, seizing my wrists and dragging me close until we shared the same air. ‘I love you. I’ve loved you since the second day at the cabin when you ordered me to tell you a story.’

  I shook my head wildly. ‘I... You can’t.’

  ‘Is that an order? Because if it is, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you by declining.’

  My mouth dried so hard I feared I’d never form words again. So instead, my soul unfurled, eager to absorb the promise of his words.

  ‘I can’t, I’m no good for you.’

  His fingers caressed my jaw. ‘Oh, but you are, min elskede,’ he insisted thickly. ‘You’re everything I will ever want in this lifetime and the next. And before you give me some excuse about not knowing you, or you not being right for me, remember that I’m a risk taker who’s been diving headlong into dangerous situations since I could get away with doing it. Whatever you think you’re hiding underneath this strong, beautiful heart that will scare me away, don’t bother. I feel like I’ve been preparing all my life for this chance to win you.’

  A rough, shocked laugh took me by surprise. ‘So I’m just a challenge to you? While you tell me you love me?’

  He grimaced, then shrugged. ‘Shock therapy was part of my game plan in bringing you here.’

  His admission should’ve angered me but, dear God, he wasn’t taking any of it back. He wasn’t grabbing my suitcase and tossing me out of the door with it.

  Because he loved me...

  Slowly, he released my hand and sank onto his knees.

  I gasped, the act shockingly blunt, cutting through the noise in a way his words hadn’t been able to convey. His hands curled around my calves, glided up slowly until he was gripping my hips. He leaned forward, laid his cheek against my stomach.

  ‘With everything that I am, everything that I will ever be, I am yours, Graciela Mortimer. Min elskede.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to call me that until I gave you permission?’

  I felt his smile against my stomach. ‘You’re min elskede—my love. I intend to do whatever is necessary to earn the right to call you min elskerinde again.’

  The tremor started from the depths of my soul, rolling out like a tsunami until I was shaking and he was clutching me harder. The tickling on my chin I absently registered as tears pouring down my face. My hands sank into his hair, my grip loose as I nudged his face upward to meet my gaze.

  ‘I don’t know that I can love you, don’t know if I’m capable.’

  He nodded, pure understanding in his eyes. ‘For now, I’ll be confident for the both of us. But you will. I believe in you.’

  Dirty, soul-racking sobs seized me then, as they had at the cabin. He caught me when I broke, held me until I was wrung dry, then he rose, swung me into his arms. The bedroom was on the minimalist side, from the little I spotted before he crossed over to lay me down on the bed. He went to the bathroom and returned a minute later with a towel. After drying my tears, he tossed it aside. Then he climbed on, fully clothed, and folded me in his arms. Silence reigned for a few minutes and then he nudged my chin up.

  ‘Why do you carry the letter around with you?’

  Shame and pain twisted my insides to knots. ‘Because it’s the only thing of hers that I’ve got.’

  He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Remember when I told you I was very angry with her for a very long time?’

  He nodded.

  ‘After she died, the lawyer told me I’d inherited all her clothes and any jewellery that didn’t belong to the Mortimer family trust. I told the lawyer I didn’t want any of it. Aunt Flo talked me into getting them. I don’t think she believed me when I said I really didn’t want it. Anyway, her things arrived a few days later. Boxes and boxes of pretty things I’d only been allowed to touch the day she left me. I set everything on fire that night, staying to make sure everything was turned to ash. But the letter, I kept. It’s the only thing I have that’s truly...hers.’

  He gave a grim nod. ‘I understand why you want to hang on to it, min elskede. But I still want you to destroy it.’

  I tensed, ready to launch myself out of his arms, but he held me tight. ‘You won’t truly move on and heal until you do.’

  I kept mutinously silent, my heart shaking at the enormity of what he was asking.


  But...what if he was right? What if I was chaining myself down by dragging that letter through life? I’d kept it partly as a reminder not to make the same mistakes I’d done with her. Not to hope or love or reach for happiness in case I proved the failure she’d predicted I’d be. But that had happened anyway, hadn’t it?

  Until Jensen had battered through that toxic fortress, taken the chance on me I was too afraid to take for myself.

  What if... I was enough?

  My breath shuddered out of me.

  His piercing eyes were fixed on me; he knew the moment I reached for courage and made the decision. He vaulted out of bed and held out his hand to me.

  Together we walked into the living room and crossed over to the coffee table. Wildly shaking, I dug through my purse until my fingers brushed the corners of the worn, folded paper.

  The words were seared in my memory, trickled through as I held it...

  You’ll never be enough for any man, woman or child.

  You cling too hard, love too deep.

  We Mortimers have an addiction problem.

  Yours is emotional addiction.

  Wean yourself off it or you’ll be nothing but a disappointment.

  You already are to me, and I suspect to your brothers.

  I’m not coming back, Graciela.

  One day you’ll see it’s for the best. You might even thank me for it.

  I held it out to him. ‘Do you want to read it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t need to. Whatever it says in there, it’s not true. Very soon, you’ll believe it too.’

  With quick strides, he went into the kitchen and returned with a large ceramic bowl and a box of matches. Heart in my throat, I dropped the paper into the bowl. He handed me the matches, and when my fingers shook too badly, he cupped my hand, steadied me.

  When I struck it, he released me.

  I held the flame to one corner of the paper, my heart in my throat as it immediately caught fire. In less than a minute it was gone.