40
I put a hand on the doorframe to steady myself and closed my eyes.
No, this couldn’t be happening. It was too painful, too familiar, but I pushed the bad memories away and forced myself to take in the scene before me.
As much as I wanted to deny what I was seeing, the state of the kitchen was evidence enough. Empty plates and food scraps lay scattered on the counter, but I didn’t care about that. All I saw were the bottles.
“Marc,” I snapped, and marched into the kitchen.
I wasn’t sure if it was my reprimand or the sharp sound of my high heels on the floor, but Marc roused.
He opened his eyes, but only barely in that way all drunk people do when they are hungover. I wasn’t having any of it.
Marc blinked when he saw me. Then he registered my gown and straightened properly, his eyes widening.
“Princess,” he whispered.
I swallowed the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. I wasn’t going to let myself think about whether that word was an endearment or a description, I needed to focus. I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the mess, ignoring Jay retreating into the hallway. I knew he’d be nearby if I needed him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
“What? Why didn’t I tell you what?” Marc said gruffly, sounding more like his usual self.
I grabbed the nearest bottle that was still about a quarter full and walked over to the sink. My hand shook as I poured it out. “That you had a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Oh? So this is normal then?” I set the empty bottle down on the counter with a loud thunk. “I guess I never saw your apartment in LA,” I mused to myself.
I found another half-empty bottle and began to pour.
Marc rubbed a hand over his face and squinted at me. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
Marc blinked a few more times like he couldn’t quite believe it was me. “You’re pouring whiskey down the drain.”
“Damn right I am. What else have you got?”
His chair scraped on the floor as he stood up, and I didn’t miss the way he had to brace himself on the counter.
“Bourbon. This will do. It’s awful anyway.” I enjoyed the glug, glug, glug the tawny-colored liquid made as I poured it into the sink.
“Lena. Stop.”
I jumped when he put two hands on my shoulders and I set the bottle down slowly. I didn’t turn around because I was only barely holding it together. “No, Marc. I will not stop. Not until every drop of this is down the drain.” I picked up the bottle again, but he caught my hand.
When I reluctantly turned and met his eyes, I saw pain in them. “Princess. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. I saw Kaden tonight. He said you weren’t part of the business anymore.”
“No, I’m not.” He was still holding my arm and didn’t attempt to let go. “Did he tell you where I was?”
“No,” I said quickly, not wanting Marc to think Aaron had betrayed his trust. “He wouldn’t tell me. He said I should already know.”
Marc’s eyes narrowed and they were rimmed with dark circles. “So you came here?”
“Yes.”
He dropped my arm and turned away, putting his hand to his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Actually, I disagree. Given the state of this place and you—”
“You shouldn’t have come!”
I flinched at his raised voice but kept my expression neutral. “Why?” I challenged. “So I wouldn’t see this?”
He started pacing the room, his eyes on the floor. “Yes, no. I don’t know.” He stopped walking and hung his head. I didn’t need to see his face to see the shame. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“What? So you’re not an alcoholic?” I managed only the slightest waver on the last word.
After a beat, he met my gaze. Instead of shame, I saw determination in his brown eyes. “No.”
I wanted to believe him, I really did, but it wasn’t like I was new to this. “Right.” I waved a hand in the general area of the kitchen. “So what’s this then?”
“A mess.”
I glanced around the kitchen. Despite the tense atmosphere in the room, I saw his lip quirk but it was gone quickly.
“I’m not an alcoholic,” he repeated.
“Oh?” I floated closer to him in my ridiculously inappropriate yet stunning dress.
His gaze dropped to my gown and I saw him swallow.
“I’m plenty of things, Lena. But I’m not an alcoholic. I promise you that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I gave him a tight smile. “You see, in my experience, it doesn’t work that way. You don’t get a choice not to hurt the people around you. The need for the alcohol is bigger than that.”
“I don’t need alcohol.”
“Funny. Judging by the state of this place it looks like you’ve been needing quite a lot.”
“What you see here is the result of three weeks of me not lifting a finger to clean up after myself. Besides, have you ever smelled alcohol on me before now? Has there ever been any evidence to suggest I might be hiding an addiction?”
This time it was my turn to divert my gaze. At the assuredness in his tone, he almost sounded like the Marc I knew. The in-control security specialist who dealt with problems with logic and facts.
I hesitated. I had to admit, I couldn’t smell any alcohol on him and he didn’t appear hungover like I’d first thought. And I knew all the signs. In all honesty, he just appeared exhausted, but I still wasn’t willing to believe it.
“No, but—”
He closed the distance between us so the tips of his shoes touched the edge of my dress. “I won’t deny I’ve been drinking these past few weeks, but not to get drunk. I tried that once and it didn’t work.”
“When Kaden found you?”
“Yes.” He lifted his arm and cupped my cheek with his hand. “I’ll never lie to you, Lena.”
“But you did.” My voice cracked on the last word.
A sharp flash of pain crossed his face and he dropped his hand.
I held his gaze. There was no cool, calm investigator now, just a tired man whose eyes swam with emotion. The actress in me recognized every single one. Pain, regret, sadness, loss, uncertainty.
“I didn’t want to,” he whispered. “I fought them on it.”
“I know.”
His dark eyes flickered with surprise. “How?”
“Kaden told me. He also told me you quit. You shouldn’t quit because of me.”
He shook his head and his eyes were so dark they were practically black. He sneered but it was directed at himself. “I didn’t quit because of you. It was because of me.”
I took a step toward him but he backed away, still shaking his head.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, because suddenly I understood he needed to hear those words more than he needed my forgiveness. In his mind, he was my protector, and the blame he was laying on himself was far worse than anything I could accuse him of. I took another tentative step. “Ben wasn’t your fault.”
“Bullshit! You said it yourself. I lied! I withheld information from you that could have protected you and look what happened!” He swiped angrily at his eyes like he was holding back tears. “Stay away from me, Lena. You’re better off without me. I can’t protect you.”
“No.” My voice was firm and clear and it echoed around the tiled room. “I don’t want you to. And I don’t want a bodyguard, I want a partner. I love you, Marc.”
His head snapped up to look at me, his eyes wide with fear. “Then you’re as screwed up as me, do you hear me? I’m broken, Lena. I’m a broken man. Ever since . . . ever since I couldn’t . . . I didn’t . . . ” His expression crumpled and he covered his eyes with his hand.
“Ever since you couldn’t save them,” I said quietly.
A moan escaped and he turned away but I stepped forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You did your best.”
“No!” He banged the counter with a fist. “No, I could have saved them. I could have gone in there and—”
“Died. You would have died, Marc. You told me that yourself.”
He gripped the edge of the counter as if it was holding him up. “And I could have saved you, but I didn’t.” His deep voice was so soft I barely heard him.
“That’s OK,” I said lightly. “I saved myself.”
“No!” He twisted to face me, his expression raw. “You could have died. He could have killed you—”
“But he didn’t and none of this is your fault.”
He stared at me. “All I see is you in that room with him. Trapped and terrified. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Do I look terrified now?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Is hiding out here making you feel better?” I asked gently.
“I’m not hiding out.”
I sighed. “Have you tried talking to someone? I’m seeing a woman and she seems to be helping. I’m having nightmares and I often feel panicked, but I’ll get through this.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “See? Look what I’ve done to you.”
“Marc,” I said firmly. “It’s called life. And I’ve experienced too much tragedy to let myself be brought down by it. I refuse to be brought down by it.”
“Then you’re stronger than me.”
“No, I’m not. I fell in love with you for your strength. You wear it so casually I don’t think you’re aware of it half the time.”
He held up his hands. “Lena, please. Don’t say that. I don’t deserve you and you damn well deserve better than a screwed-up guy like me.”
I shuffled forward in my silly skirt so he was trapped against the counter and looked him in the eye. “I’m broken, too. We’re all broken in some way. It’s what you do with the pieces you have left that counts, and I think ours fit pretty well, don’t you?”
Amazement, then love so fierce shone in his eyes. “Lena,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes?”
“Why did you come here?”
“You tell me.”
“Because you love me.” It sounded like he was trying the words out for the first time.
“Yes, I do.”
“Damn it.”
He reached around my waist and pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest. His lips found mine and when they did, they were hungry, hot and demanding.
“I love you,” he said into my mouth, nipping at my lips. “And I don’t damn well know what to do about it.”
“Try it out for a while. See how it goes. Kissing me is a good start.”
He pressed his forehead against mine and took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m not sure I could bear it if I—”
“Shh.” I pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Together.”
He ran his palms down my back like he was making sure I was real, and I melted into him.
He kissed me again then pulled back and glanced at my gown. “Any idea how I get you out of this dress?”
I grinned at him. “I’m definitely going to need help. Lots of help.”