“Look down,” he instructed softly.
My eyes drifted south, my gaze slow and wary, taking in the perfect porcelain skin of his neck and shoulders, until I landed on his chest. He was hard-muscled and pumped…and covered with scars. Some pink. Some white. All of them old and faded. Long scars. Short scars. Deep scars. Shallow scars. There were many, too many, like a subway window that had been abused over the years. He looked like someone had doodled on his stomach and chest with a Swiss-made knife.
Bile rose up my throat, and I clamped my lips together, feeling my chin quivering.
“Remember when I used to arrange the fights at my tennis court?” he asked, his voice unruffled. “I’m not gonna lie. Part of it was for fun, to unwind. But the other part, Help, was because I didn’t want people to ask questions about my scars.” He lifted both his arms, showing me the front of his wrists and forearms.
Covered with more scars.
I’d noticed them before, of course, but I’d bought the lie. I’d thought the fights were to blame.
I tried to swallow but couldn’t. His scars somehow felt like they were on me. My skin burned for him. “Jo did this to you?”
“No.” He ran his tongue over his front teeth. “Her brother, Daryl Ryler, the guy you saw in this library that first day. Jo didn’t cut me. After she first married my dad, she just smacked me around. A lot. And then Ryler moved here when I was twelve…” He hesitated, but it didn’t look like he was having too much trouble getting the words out. His face was still as emotionless as ever, his speech low and firm. “She’d lock the door from the outside and leave him to ‘punish me.’”
I sucked in a ragged breath. I wanted to kill that woman. Even after everything he’d done to me, I wanted his stepmother to die. Then something else occurred to me.
“Did your dad know?”
“I told him, but he was never around much. His business was always his focus. Then, after I got expelled from boarding school and was back here, Jo convinced him I was hurting myself. Cutting. All the rage with ‘troubled’ kids like me. She even hired a psychiatrist to assess me. One chosen by her, of course. There was talk of sending me off somewhere for treatment. So I learned to keep my mouth shut until eventually I was big and strong enough to fight back. I was sixteen.”
My eyes ran over his torso frantically. Shame crawled into me when I realized it wasn’t only sorrow I felt. Butterflies flung their tiny wings in my chest and my nipples puckered. I liked what I was seeing. He was perfectly imperfect. Flawlessly flawed. Most importantly—he was Vicious.
“You never told any else? The police? A teacher?”
His dead eyes blinked once. “There wasn’t much point by then. Jo and my dad were traveling a lot, and Daryl was barely ever around. Drugs.” He shrugged. “He died shortly after you left town. Overdosed and drowned in his own Jacuzzi.” He tilted his head sideways. “Shame.”
A shiver broke down my spine. I remembered every word of their conversation that first day in the library. No. Vicious was incapable of killing someone. But was he really…? I didn’t want to ask him about it. Both because I wasn’t ready for his answer and because it would’ve caused another moral debate, and my head was aching as it was.
“Vicious…” I was breathless. He moved toward me. Our bodies touched. I wanted to melt into him, but knew better than to give in to that temptation. He was so haunted and troubled. And on top of everything else, he was still hateful to me.
For Lord’s sake, the man still referred to me as “Help.”
Yet when his body pressed against mine, warm and comforting, nothing like the man it belonged to, I couldn’t pull away. We were flush against each other, but his arms were at his sides. We were both liars, telling ourselves that as long as we didn’t use hands, this didn’t count. Only it did. In my heart, it did.
“It’s a mess, but it’s my mess,” he said. “I won’t drag you into this shit in court. Jo doesn’t deserve a penny, but whatever happens with the will, this stays between me and her.” He dropped his eyes to my lips. He was so close, I was able to taste the saltiness of his warm, naked skin and the heat of his mouth. “You get out of this unscathed. I know you think I’m a piece of shit, and you have a good reason to, but I’m not asking you to perjure yourself. I would never complicate your life like that. Never. I just need you to help me frighten Jo enough to back off if there’s a problem with the will.”
Torn, I shook my head. “I’m sure your friends can help you just as much, if not more.”
“They don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t told them. Not about Daryl Ryler, not about Jo. I’m not proud of this, Help. I let them do this to me. For years. You’re the only one who knows, other than Eli Cole and a shrink I hired myself a few years ago.”
I could have told him a lot of things. That it wasn’t his fault. That there was nothing to be ashamed of. That he wasn’t alone. But I knew Vicious well enough to know that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He was too proud for a pep talk. What he wanted was cooperation.
“Then ask your psychiatrist,” I said.
“That would be very messy, very expensive, and very public. No. This is personal. Private. I want to deal with Jo quietly, and we both know you can keep a secret.”
Pink.
Black.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” I made my voice stone cold, ignoring the compliment. But this made sense. I knew what I heard in the library all those years ago. But after Vicious’s behavior toward me, I’d chosen to believe it was just an ugly family argument.
“You don’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
“And what on earth have you ever done to make me think you’re trustworthy?” I wrinkled my nose, taking a step away. Being so close to him wasn’t helping.
The back of his hand brushed my cheek, and my heart leaped. I retreated again.
“I was an ass*ole, but I never lied to you. Not once. Josephine came after my family’s money with her brother, and she did some nasty stuff to get what she wanted. This is payday for her. But not in the way she hopes it will be.”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head.
When I didn’t answer, he took my hand and pulled me toward a chair. It was five in the morning, and I’d lost my appetite for the written word.
“Stay.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because I order you to.”
“No.”
He dipped his head down and shook it, exhaling sharply. “Fuck, then do it because I want you to. It’s been a long day. Don’t decide right now. Just sit here while I work and get used to seeing my sour-ass face again. I won’t try and bribe you again. Instead, I’ll ask that you think about what you, Emilia, consider as justice. Because I know you’re good and I know I’m bad, but at the end of the day, I suspect we have the exact same moral code.”