Chapter Eleven
Nick tossed and turned for the third night in a row, still unable to forget the look of sadness on Persephone’s face as he walked away from her without saying what he knew she wanted to hear. He didn’t know which was worse, the look of utter betrayal in her eyes as he held her down on that bed or the look of hurt when he couldn’t tell her how he truly felt about her before walking away from that gazebo and out of her life forever.
This was how it had to be. That’s what he told himself every time he thought of her and how much he wished she could be right there in his arms at that moment. Better for her to think he never cared, that he was just some guy who felt nothing when he acted like those animals he pretended to be with. That would make it easier for her to get past all that happened.
At least he hoped that would be the case.
In truth, he had no idea. He believed Persephone was strong. Stronger than any woman he’d ever met. But strength might not be enough to overcome all she’d gone through.
Her father would get her the finest doctors in the world to help her. He’d spend his money to do whatever it took to make her life normal again. Not that Nick blamed him for that. As far as billionaires went, Marshall Gilmore turned out to be one of the better ones he’d ever heard of.
He’d expected his meeting with him to involve her father hurriedly stuffing a check into his hand and then giving him a quick goodbye before he was escorted out of the enormous house like some kind of second-class citizen. It didn’t happen that way, though.
Instead, Marshall Gilmore sat next to him in one of the two chairs in front of his massive mahogany desk and thanked him for saving his daughter. In his eyes, Nick saw genuine appreciation for what he’d done. And he’d shown that appreciation even more when he gave him an additional hundred thousand for his work.
It made him feel like a fraud sitting there listening to a father thanking him profusely for saving his daughter’s life when he knew what he’d done to her would stay with her forever. He tried to convince himself that in the big scheme of things, all things being equal, freedom was a hell of a lot better than still being held hostage, no matter what it took to get that freedom.
But all things weren’t equal. He knew that. The fact that a billionaire media mogul paid him four hundred grand to save his daughter like he was reaching into his pocket for change showed Nick the idea of equality had nothing to do with this situation.
And any mental bargaining he did to excuse taking her like he did showed in harsh detail that nothing about what they went through could be considered equal. Nick wasn’t equal to Persephone or her family, and his actions that day in that bedroom weren’t equal to her freedom.
All he could hope for was she would go on to live a happy life married to some wealthy guy who could give her enough love and enough things to make her forget everything of those weeks of her life.
In that hope resided one of the most painful parts of all of this for him, though. He wanted to see Persephone happy, but it made his chest feel like someone stuck a knife in him every time he thought of her happy with anyone else. Even some guy her father chose for her because of his net worth and ability to give her anything her heart desired.
He shook his head and pulled the pillow over his face. Whatever he thought he felt for Persephone as he fed her each day meant nothing compared to the chance she now had to be happy and safe. He couldn’t give her that. Well, maybe he could give her happiness, but not the kind she deserved.
The memory of her smile as he tried to convince her to eat some of that grey shit they forced him to feed her for the first few days made that wish of having her there in his arms come rushing back into his mind again. In the middle of the worst thing that had ever happened to her, she smiled at him and made something horrible sweet for just a few minutes. She deserved that sweetness for the rest of her life.
She wanted him to show her that he’d cared when he thrust into her as those monsters cheered him on. He knew that as he stood looking down at her in the gazebo a few nights before. He could have told her the truth. He could have said he knew it was crazy, but he’d begun to feel something real for her in those days he had to pretend to be one of the militia. He could have told her going into that room to see her each time was one of the few bright spots in an otherwise ugly thing he so desperately wanted to forget.
He wanted to tell her all those things. He wanted her to know that even though it seemed impossible, he had somehow ignored all the people around them when he pushed into her body. He’d told her to focus on his eyes because he hoped she’d see the truth in them.
That in the short time he was around her, he’d fallen in love with her.
Nick tossed the pillow across the bed and watched it roll off onto the floor. Turning to look at his phone, he saw the time.
3:46.
Three nights of not being able to sleep because his mind refused to forget what it needed to.
Three nights of regrets piling up and making him hate himself even more than he thought he could.
Her father had all but given him the green light to stay in her life in that last meeting in his office. “Persephone clearly thinks highly of you, Mr. Hanson. You two have been through something most people have no experience with. I can understand if you stay in touch. I know my daughter. You saved her life. Don’t be surprised if you now have a fan for the rest of yours. She’s that kind of loyal person.”
He’d sat there in that brown leather chair staring back at him and hating himself for the real truth of what they’d been through. No matter what the reason, he’d done something even he couldn’t think about without being overcome with self-loathing.
And if Marshall Gilmore knew, he’d likely have him killed and no one could blame him.
Yet Persephone, the very person he’d wronged so terribly, showed nothing of hate or anger toward him that night when he walked out of her father’s office feeling guiltier than he’d ever felt before. The hate he thought would forever be reflected in her eyes had disappeared, replaced by something else that made him want to think they could be in each other’s life like Marshall Gilmore had suggested.
But as soon as that hope cropped up inside him, he snuffed it out. He had to. For as much as she may have been able to see past that one act to believe in him, he couldn’t do the same for himself.
No matter how much he wanted to so he could say she was still in his life.
Grabbing the remote off the nightstand, he flipped through the channels to find something to take his mind off her. A horror flick could work. C-SPAN might bore him to sleep. That could work too.
Anything to let him forget her for at least a little while.
Channel after channel flew by with nothing worth stopping for, but then as he clicked through the news channels he saw her right there on his TV. She looked fresh and clean and as beautiful as she had that night in the garden. Her long brown hair hung in loose waves around her face, softening the sharpness of cheekbones models would kill for. Her deep brown eyes looked different now, framed with makeup to show them off, but they still gave anyone who took the time to notice the impression that when she looked at them, she saw them through a filter that made her think they were kinder than they actually were. More a reflection of her gentle nature than theirs, those eyes could make a man get lost in them.
He’d seen her only in green scrubs for all that time she was a hostage and then a light blue t-shirt and jeans that last night they spoke. Now she wore a black long sleeve dress and a gold necklace with a diamond pendant hanging from it, and in her ears sat diamond studs. Her look screamed class and money and made Nick think how poorly he fit into that world of hers after all.
Turning up the volume, he listened to her speak and knew all of the exterior so carefully created to give her that look of the upper class wasn’t who she truly was inside. No matter how much money they spent on that dress or the jewelry, when she spoke, the kindness that transcended class and wealth came through loud and clear.
The TV interviewer leaned in toward Persephone and said in a soft voice, “Miss Gilmore, tell us how you got through your ordeal. What helped you to make it through everything you had to deal with?”
Nick listened intently. One of the few conditions he’d given Marshall Gilmore before he walked out of his office was that there must be no mention of his name or his part in bringing Persephone home. Her father had assured him his name would never be released to anyone who asked, even the police and the FBI. His job required that he be nameless as much as possible.
She smiled and looked at the woman before looking directly into the camera. “I believe I had a guardian angel who watched over me. He protected me, and for that, I can never thank him enough.”
Sure she’d give a vague comment about her belief in God and strength like all people who’d been through something horrible said in interviews, he sat back against his pillow and sighed as he listened but didn’t hear anything about religion or spirituality. She simply repeated that she’d had a guardian angel who saved her. Nobody had ever referred to him as a guardian angel. He’d been called all sorts of names, but never that.
“What are your plans now, Miss Gilmore? What do you want to do most of all now that you’re back home?”
Nick knew the interviewer probably expected her to say she wanted a double cheeseburger with bacon or something equally as frivolous. That was usually the kind of thing victims of traumatic experiences said in interviews like this. It made them appear to be normal and ready to return to the regular world. He suspected Persephone had been told to give an answer like that but slightly more refined. She was, after all, the daughter of a billionaire. People could excuse her wanting something a bit more than a fast food meal on her return to daily life.
He watched as Persephone smiled and nodded before answering, “I have a lot I want to accomplish, but first on my list of things to do is finding a way to make sure no woman ever has to go through what I went through, Angie.”
The newscaster looked genuinely surprised by that answer and attempted to ask a follow up question to get more details, but Persephone refused to give any. All she’d say was she planned to devote her life to that one goal of ensuring no woman would ever have to experience what she had.
Nick didn’t know what she meant exactly, but he knew if anyone could achieve that, she could.
Holding the remote in his hand, his thumb hovered over the button to change the channel as he stared at Persephone Gilmore for a few seconds more before the screen faded to black and a commercial for some kind of home gym began. She had looked as incredible as he knew she would. Now all she had to do was find that wealthy man to marry and her life would be set.
That he hated the very idea of that happening made him wonder if he was as much a monster as any of those militia fucks. Or maybe he was just selfish.
Either way, he felt certain it made him the last person in the world Persephone should be with.
No matter how much he wished the opposite was true.
Nearly a week of no sleep made Nick feel like a bus had hit him and then backed over his head just for good measure. If he kept going like he was, he’d end up in some mental hospital clutching his knees and rocking back and forth as he recited the alphabet backwards.
He hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in years, but as this bout of insomnia inched into a second week, he wondered if the moratorium he’d forced on himself a year after leaving the bureau now seemed a little too strident for his current circumstances. Back then, he’d let himself become a drunken mess after Tanya’s death and walking away from the only life he’d known for so long. He lost himself in the bottom of a glass for months on end, draining not only bottle after bottle of whatever liquor he could find but his bank account as well.
Now he knew better, though. He didn’t need to drink to drown his misery. That misery would be there when he got sober again anyway, so if he went back to drinking now, it would only be so he could sleep.
Rationalizing all this as he dressed to head out to get a few bottles, he threw on a shirt and pants and slipped his feet into a pair of shoes before opening the front door to his apartment to see Persephone standing there with her hand raised ready to knock. How she found where he lived ran through his mind, although that question seemed pretty dumb since her father could have told her or she could have just hired someone to find out for her. It wasn’t like he lived off the grid.
He just preferred to remain unknown. It suited who he was.
“Nick, I was just going to knock on your door,” she said with a beautiful smile.
But all he could think of was how she shouldn’t be there. She should have been anywhere else but there with him.
“I’m just leaving,” he said brusquely. “I have to go.”
She put her hands out and pressed lightly against his chest as she looked up at him with those dark eyes that threatened to swallow him up. “Please don’t push me away. I need to speak to you.”
The feel of her touching him made his head swim with guilt and need, never a good combination of emotions. He felt his feet move backwards into the apartment, and Persephone followed him, closing the door behind her.
Swiveling her head left and right, she looked around his home and smiled again. “This is so very much you, Nick. Very few decorations and very functional.”
At that moment, nothing in him seemed to be functioning right. He couldn’t be there with her. Why she didn’t understand that he couldn’t fathom, but he didn’t know the words to explain it to her either.
“Persephone, you shouldn’t be here. You should be home. I didn’t see anyone in the hallway. Why aren’t you letting your father have security watch you?”
Her smile faded. “I’m not a child, Nick. I’m guessing you’re not that much older than I am.”
“It’s for your own safety. You should let him do that.”
Nick didn’t know why they were having this argument. He had no right to tell her what to do with her life. That he hated the idea of her being hurt again so much it made him want to kill someone meant nothing.
Taking a step toward him, she touched his hand gently before squeezing it. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?” he asked, sure he didn’t want to hear the answer.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since what happened. I have some ideas about what I want to do now, but I’m not sure how to implement them,” she said, grimacing as she admitted that truth.
He didn’t know what she meant, but he saw it clearly bothered her that she hadn’t been able to start working on these ideas yet. Some part of him wanted to help, but he knew better. What happened between them would always get in the way of anything they did together.
No matter what it was or how much he wanted to be around her to help with anything she could need.
“I don’t know what I could do to help,” he lied, hating how dismissive the words sounded as they came out of his mouth.
Persephone let go of his hand and hung her head. “What have I done to you to deserve being treated like this, Nick? Will you just tell me so I can fix it?”
He stared down at her as she stood there completely dejected and felt the self-loathing wash over him again. She hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve this from him. If anything, he should be working day and night to earn her forgiveness for what he did.
And even knowing all of that, he still couldn’t see how anything but pushing her away would be good for her.
“I don’t know what you mean. You don’t have to fix anything. This is just who I am,” he said, mixing his lies with that single truth in the middle.
She lifted her head, and he saw she didn’t believe him. “No, it’s not. You were good and kind to me all those times you came into that room where they kept me tied up. You made me smile. Where is that man who became my lifeline? I would have given up if it wasn’t for him. Where is he in this functional world you live in?”
Suddenly, watching her protest against his lies became too much for even him to stand. He didn’t want to be the person who pushed her away, even if a voice in his head screamed that what he’d done would forever haunt them.
Taking hold of her hand, he squeezed it gently and smiled. “I don’t know how you’ve forgiven me, but I’d give anything to know how to do it.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “How to forgive me? What have I done? Tell me and I promise I’ll make it up to you, Nick.”
He shook his head, unable to understand how she couldn’t admit what he knew. “You have nothing to make up to me. It’s me who owes you. I can’t forget what I did, and no matter how many times I justify it, I can’t forgive myself.”