Her Little White Lie (17 page)

“You have to pay for it somewhere, Paige,” he said, his tone rough, unsteady. “Every ounce of pleasure has a price.”

Her heart curled in on itself. He didn’t make any sense to her, but the undertone to his words was so raw, so very serious. She might not understand his words, but he did. And they carried a weight that she feared could crush them both.

She put her hand on his back, on his ice-cold skin. “A little bit of cold is sexy, but this isn’t.” She draped the towel across her arm and planted her hands on his shoulders, tugging on him. It wasn’t her strength that got him out of the shower, it was the fact that he complied.

He didn’t feel like himself. He was usually solid, hot beneath her fingertips. The muscle beneath his ice-cold skin trembled now, his stance weak. And his eyes … they weren’t blank now. The anguish was evident, there for her to see, to examine like she’d wanted. And now, she wanted to look away, because the rawness of it was simply too much. The pain too great.

But she didn’t. She met his gaze as she brushed the towel
over his skin, drying him, her hands trembling, her stomach sick. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

He complied again, following her into the bedroom and sliding between the covers.

Paige stripped her clothes off and got in beside him, pushing her breasts against his freezing-cold back, wrapping her arms around him as he shivered against her.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she pressed her face to his shoulder blade. “You’re so cold,” she said.

“That’s the idea,” he said, his voice stronger now.

“Why?”

“A habit, I suppose.”

“You take cold showers after sex?”

“No. Not so simple. I pay penance.”

“For what?” she asked, trying to keep the horror from her tone. “For sins?”

“For feeling. For losing control. I’ve used it to train myself.” His tone was flat, lifeless.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because,
cara mia
, nothing in life is free. Everything has a cost. Especially deep emotion. Most especially passion. Life is made of light and dark, good and bad. The other side of love is hate, and the line between the two is thin.”

“I’ve never thought so,” she said. “I don’t think love and hate are anywhere near each other.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” He shivered again. “Because you haven’t seen it turn. But I have. I told you about my mother. That she died. That I remembered her soft touch, and her singing. But I also remember how she died. How she was killed. My father killed her. While I watched from behind the couch, helpless to do anything but cover my ears to block out the sound. I will never forget what it’s like to watch someone die. My mother. My own mother. I won’t forget holding her in my arms as she faded. That’s what happens when you have no control. When you are ruled by passion. That’s what
it can become. And that’s why I remind myself that when you lose control, someone pays.”

She tightened her hold on him, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “Why do you have to pay, Dante?” They were the only words she could voice. There were so many words she wanted to say. So many. And they weren’t enough. They never would be.

“So no one else will.”

She just held him then, her eyes stinging, her entire body, down to her soul exhausted. But she couldn’t sleep. So she held him, warming him, until the darkness faded and light started to invade the room.

If only she could find a way to do the same for him. To shine a light on his soul and banish the darkness.

“W
E’RE
moving the wedding up to a week from yesterday.”

Dante strode into her office midway through the day on Tuesday, a strange sight considering he had ignored her all day Monday and then had gone out to the office after hours on Monday night and not come home.

She’d driven Ana and herself to Colson’s that morning, and she was still more than slightly peeved at him over the disappearing act.

She knew why he’d done it. The phrase running scared seemed a nice way to describe it. Still, she’d been imagining him dead on the side of the road. She’d called, but he hadn’t answered, and pride prevented her from doing it more than five times. So she’d paced the hall instead. And she’d gone to sleep in his bed, inhaling the scent of him on his pillow, because it turned out that sex made her feel somewhat mushy about a guy.

“You can’t reschedule what was never scheduled,” she said, dryly, her heart hammering. “And that’s way too soon.”

“No, it’s not. It’s time we got everything going. I’m not running a bed-and-breakfast.”

His words were like a slap to the face. “Right. Oh, my mistake. That’s what I thought I was doing at your house. In my defense you shouldn’t have put a little check-in desk with a bell right by the front door.”

“Paige …”

“Dante,” she said, her tone mocking.

“You know what I meant.”

“You’re being an insulting bastard. Is that what you meant? Because if that was the aim, great job. You did it.”

“I meant this isn’t permanent.”

“Yeah, I do know that. You keep reminding me of it, actually.”

“Do you want to get the adoption finalized as soon as possible or would you like to continue with your wounded maiden routine?” he asked.

“The adoption.”

“I thought so.”

“So we’re getting married on Monday and … and what’s with the adoption?”

“I have made a very generous donation to the local child services department. They like me a lot. I’m imagining that the rest of the process should go off without a hitch.”

“You … bought the adoption?”

“More or less. But I imagine if they found something terrible about us they wouldn’t allow it.”

“That’s … oh, that just makes me so mad!” She stood up and kicked a box of decorations aside. “I had to work so hard to prove I was fit, all because I was single and lived in a small apartment or whatever, and you waltz in with your—sorry, but it’s true—bad reputation, but oh, you have money, so no problem let’s get this adoption show on the road.”

“I’m sorry you’re frustrated but I imagine the relief of knowing it will be finalized soon will take the sting out of it.”

She covered her mouth and sat on the edge of her desk. “Oh, you’re right. Oh … she’s really going to be mine.” She popped up and took two leaping steps toward him and threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much.”

He just stood, stiff, unmoving.

She stood up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “No glitter today,” she whispered.

He pulled away from her. “That’s good.”

“Will your parents be at the wedding?” she asked.

He paused, his jaw hardening. “They’ll have to be invited. I don’t … I would rather not lie to them.”

“I don’t want anyone to know,” she said. “And I know maybe it’s selfish, but if anything were to jeopardize my getting Ana …”

“I understand,” he said, his voice firm.

“And I understand why you don’t want to lie to them. They’re your parents and …”

“Yes. They are.”

“They were good to you, weren’t they?” He always spoke of them so formally, no warmth in his tone.

“Yes,” he said. “Very. They gave me firm guidance, which I needed desperately. Gave me everything I needed. My own space, which I never had before. My own things.”

She’d noticed how meticulously he cared for everything, and suddenly, she realized why. He had been in foster care for around eight years and that had likely meant a lot of moving, and owning very little.

“Love?”

He shrugged. “I don’t need that.”

The statement shocked her, even though, after the other night, it probably shouldn’t. “But … don’t they?”

His expression froze. “I … it’s not that I don’t …”

But he couldn’t say it, or think about it really, she could see that. “I know. And I’m sure they know.”

“They’ll probably enjoy a wedding far too much. Though I’m not sure what they’ll think about one on notice this short.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.”

“I’m sure Mary will pitch a fit about finding a mother of the groom dress on such short notice.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“Well, yeah, but most women would.”

“There’s something else I need to say.”

An apology maybe? That would be nice. She would happily take an apology.

“What?”

“I didn’t use a condom the other night.”

Her stomach sank a little. Not an apology. “Oh.”

“I need to know if you’re pregnant. I’ll need you to tell me.”

She nodded. “I would. I will.”

For a moment, she was afraid her knees might give out. What would she do if there was a baby? What would it mean for Ana? For the adoption? Would she be a single mother of two children? She wasn’t entirely certain she could handle one. The idea of juggling both … it terrified her.

“Good.”

“I’m not, though,” she said, because she had to believe it. The alternative was too frightening. Another example of her taking something that was working and making an impossible jumble out of it.

“You don’t know that.”

“Dammit, Dante, I have to believe I’m not.”

He laughed, a humorless sound. “I don’t blame you for not wanting my baby. You’ve heard about everything lurking in my gene pool. Hell, I’ve treated you to a front row seat.”

“That’s not it,” she said, ice trickling through her veins. “But be honest with me. If I were, would you even stay? Or would I be on my own with two children?”

“You would be better off without me.”

“I suppose that answers my question.”

“Sadly, it doesn’t. I would stay. But it’s better you don’t need that. Better I don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to be someone you’re forced to be with.”

“If you’re having my baby, then you will be. I will take care of my responsibilities, make no mistake.”

Her stomach tightened. He looked … resigned. She didn’t want that. Not for the rest of her life. “You would … you would love our child wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think I could.”

“You don’t mean that. You just … you need to put the past behind you and … and …”

He exploded then, a dark flame in his eyes burning bright, stealing the light from the room. “Look around you, Paige. I own all of this. Things have already happened for me. What do you think, that I need to talk about my feelings? That I need a psych? To what? To listen to me? Because that will fix it? That will bring my mother back? It will make it so I don’t share half my blood with a violent killer? Is that it? It will fix me. Make me happy and able to love?” He shook his head. “You live in fairyland. But the real world has less glitter. You can’t fix everything.”

“Dante that’s not. I’m not trying to trivialize …”

“You did. I have a business trip that I need to go on this week. I’ll be back in time for the wedding. Everything is being planned. All we have to do is show up.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have business,” he bit out.

“Fine.” She went back to her desk and sat behind it, her heart in her throat. She had no idea where they stood. Except that they were both angry at each other. And that he was leaving while still angry at her. But she couldn’t figure out how to fix it, even though she hated it.

He walked to her desk quickly and braced his hands on the surface, leaning in and taking her mouth in a hard, intense kiss. She was lost in it, in him, the moment his lips touched hers. She pushed her fingers through his hair, slid her tongue against his.

He pulled away, straightening. Dark and dangerous. “When I get back, we’ll have the wedding. Then we’ll have the wedding night.”

The media had often accused Dante of atrocious behavior, and very often it had been a part of the myth they’d spun around him for their own enjoyment.

This time, with no witnesses other than Paige, he would have deserved it.

But his world was ordered, well controlled, just as he needed it and she seemed bound and determined to come in and challenge him at every turn.

He didn’t know why he’d told her so much about his mother. About why he took cold showers, and hit things. It sounded crazy when voiced, and maybe in some ways it was. But it had been necessary. The way he’d controlled his emotions as a young boy moving around in the foster system. Anger had to have a release, but if he gave the consequence to himself, no one got hurt. It had flooded over into every emotion until it had been easy to simply not have them.

He hadn’t needed the intense, physical reminder for years. Not until Paige came into his life.

Even with those precautions, everything had crashed down around him. He might have gotten her pregnant. A child. His child. He wasn’t the man for that. He couldn’t even look at Paige and Ana without being taken over by memories of his mother. Couldn’t bear to touch the child because she reminded him too much of what it was to be so helpless.

And he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself, to imagine what it would be like to have a child of his own. To share his poisoned blood. The blood he shared with his father. The blood he worked so hard to keep under control.

He was failing. He had failed, in every way that mattered.

And Paige might be the one to pay for it. Someone always paid. Paige. Ana. The child, if there was one. All tied to him because of an act of carelessness.

The truth was, this business trip could be deferred. But he had to get his control back. He had to get distance.

And as long as Paige was around, as long as he had to see her, with her petite curves and tendency to dress in sequins, to listen to the sound of her voice, that voice that he’d heard moaning with pleasure, as long as he had to smell that sweet
floral scent combined with the fresh smell of her clean skin … he wouldn’t be able to master his emotions.

And he had to. There was no other option.

Even if it might already be too late.

Midnight, the day of the wedding, Dante arrived back at his San Diego home. It had been a long trip. And his bed had seemed cold, empty.

He had made promises, threats, really, about a wedding night, but he had no doubt Paige wouldn’t be too thrilled if he tried to make that happen. And he wouldn’t blame her. He’d acted like an ass to her.