I KNEW SHE was going to do it. Call it a sixth sense. In the first moments of that post-orgasmic haze—and it was one fucking amazing haze—I could see her hand reach for the blindfold. I could have stopped her. But I didn’t.
In those moments, I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to know exactly who’d made her scream. Who’d made her sob. Who’d made her come so hard she’d forgotten her own name. Who’d taken her virginity.
A fucking caveman thought, but there it was.
I didn’t want to be nameless, faceless. I wanted her to know who was her first.
And only.
The thought unwound inside me even as I registered something else. She wasn’t surprised to see me. She wasn’t shocked, angry or anything else.
Her blue eyes were so dark they looked black, pupils dilated, little strands of black hair plastered to her forehead where the blindfold had been pressing. She blinked quickly against the sudden influx of light, her pupils abruptly narrowing into tiny black points in response.
Beautiful eyes, slightly turned up at the corners like a cat’s, her eyebrows serious black slashes. She had a silver ring through one of her eyebrows and it suited her whole edgy look.
I remembered those eyes, though. They’d been solemn when she was a kid, going wide every time they looked at me, as if she’d never seen anything like me in her entire life. And then later, as she’d got older, they’d danced with shy amusement as I’d teased her for being so serious, trying to get a grin out of her. She’d been so serious. I’d counted it a victory when I’d managed to make her laugh.
She looked at me with those same serious, solemn eyes, but she wasn’t a kid now. Her body glistened with sweat, her mouth was full and red and I was still deep inside her, the clutch of her pussy around my cock already making me start to get hard again.
She’d known all along. Somehow, she’d known who I was.
And now she knows exactly how big an asshole you are too.
‘Eli.’ Her gaze roamed all over me and she lifted one small hand to touch my face.
I moved before I was even aware of it, gripping her, lifting her, pulling her from my lap and sitting her down on the couch beside me.
‘Eli, wait,’ she said huskily, reaching for me again.
But I ignored her, getting up off the couch and striding through to the bedroom, and from there into the en suite bathroom.
I shut the door and locked it, aware that my heartbeat was out of control, my fucking cock still getting itself ready for another round. And that my hands were fucking shaking.
How long had she known who I was? Why hadn’t she said anything?
A man I maybe loved...
No. Fuck no. No fucking way.
I dealt with the condom, tidied up my clothes, then went to the mirror above the vanity. It floated there, looking as though it wasn’t attached to the white-tiled wall behind it, lights surrounding it as if it was framing some Hollywood movie star.
But there was no fucking star in the glass.
It was only me in my black suit, looking like a fucking undertaker.
What had she seen when she’d pulled off the blindfold? Because I wasn’t the same man she’d once known.
The same face, sure—the fire hadn’t touched that. The nurses seemed to think I should be grateful for that, but some part of me wasn’t. Some part of me wished that my face hadn’t escaped, so that it was obvious. So no one would assume that I was still the same person, the same selfish asshole my dad thought I was who’d thrown a game so he wouldn’t have to bear the weight of all those expectations. Of all those responsibilities.
My jaw was tight, a muscle leaping in it. In the mirror I could see that the top button of my shirt had come undone, revealing the red lick of scar tissue that lay just beneath it. I lifted a hand to do up the button, to exert some control over myself even in this small detail.
She knows. Do you think that matters now?
No, she didn’t know. Not everything. She didn’t know about the fire. Didn’t know about my injuries. Didn’t know that all the medical staff who’d called me a hero had been wrong.
I was no one’s fucking hero.
I was a coward.
And she doesn’t know why you cut her out of your life and then, years later, fucked her in a hotel room, making sure she had no idea who you were.
So? She didn’t need to know. She didn’t need to know anything. I could go and tell her coolly that there would be no discussion and that it was time for her to leave.
That’s a shitty thing to do.
Of course it was a shitty thing to do. But maybe, if I was sufficiently shitty to her, she’d finally leave me the fuck alone the way everyone else had.
A soft knock came on the door.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
‘Eli?’ she called quietly. ‘Are you okay?’
I’d been the one to deceive her, having her naked in that chair, making her come over and over again. Taking her virginity on the couch like a goddamned animal. Not even having the decency to let her know who I was. And yet she was the one asking me if I was okay?
That should have been my line. I should have gathered her close and held her, kissed her. Asked if I’d hurt her and whether she needed anything. But no. I’d shoved her off my lap and escaped into the bathroom like the coward I used to be.
And a hypocrite into the bargain. I wasn’t supposed to give one single shit what people thought of me and yet here I was, hiding. Afraid of shattering the pedestal she’d once put me on when she found out the truth.
I hadn’t fully realised how much I’d needed that pedestal until now. To still be a hero to someone, even if it was only one person, just one. To her...
Except there was nothing heroic about what lay underneath my suit. Scars and selfishness. Anger and bitterness.
Sure. You treated her like shit and yet here you are in the bathroom, consumed with your own pain.
Of course. Why would I care about anyone else’s? That was not who I was any more.
I bared my teeth at my appearance in the mirror. ‘Yes,’ I said flatly.
Maybe she should know. Maybe she should discover the truth about me. Shatter that pedestal once and for all, so she’d finally put me aside. After all, hadn’t she said she’d come here to lay the ghost of me? So she could move on with her life?
Perhaps if she knew the truth then she finally would.
‘I’m sorry, Eli.’ Her voice again, from the other side of the door. ‘I know I should have said something, but I...’
She was apologising to me? What the fuck? It should be the other way around, surely?
‘You what?’ A thick, hot anger shifted inside me. This was exactly what I hadn’t wanted for this evening. Discussion. Conversation. Going over the past. Compli-fucking-cations. ‘Spit it out, Vee. That you knew all along who I was.’
‘Not all along.’ A pause. ‘Just after I...took off my dress.’
That long. She’d known that long.
I closed my eyes. ‘How?’
‘Seriously? I’d know your voice anywhere. And you smell the same. And it just...felt like you.’
Holy Christ. Hadn’t I told myself to be careful? That she was sharp and perceptive?
That maybe she loves you—don’t forget that.
My hands clenched into fists. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
Another pause.
‘Why didn’t you?’
Ah, fuck. Now we were getting down to it. I needed to put an end to it, and quickly. I needed to tell her the truth.
She’ll never look at you the same way again.
No, but I’d got through the past decade without her looking at me in any way at all. I was at the top of my game, successful beyond my wildest morphine-induced dreams.
So what did it matter if she changed her opinion of me? What did her opinion of anything matter? It hadn’t then and it didn’t now.
Then why are you so afraid?
I snarled at my reflection, reaching for the anger and holding on tight. Anger was the only thing I had now. It had got me through those first dark days as I’d realised the full extent of what I’d done. The lives I’d ruined. The dreams I’d shattered.
It would get me through this.
Distancing her hadn’t worked and I should have known it wouldn’t. She hadn’t given up trying to reach me and she never would because she never gave up on anything.
Unlike you. You gave up on yourself.
I ignored the thought, turning from the mirror and striding to the door. I unlocked it, then grasped the handle and pulled it open.
Vesta stood on the other side, big blue eyes coming to mine immediately, light shining on the ring in her eyebrow. She’d put her dress back on and I had a moment’s regret that she’d covered up all that beautiful skin, all those delicious curves. Then I shoved it to the side, where I put every other inconvenient emotion I’d ever had.
‘You really want to know why?’ I demanded, holding her gaze. ‘Then I’ll show you.’
I backed up into the middle of the bathroom, all the mirrored surfaces bouncing my reflection back and forth between them, the bright, pitiless white light illuminating every single thing.
There would be no hiding now.
I lifted my hand to the knot of my tie and undid it, pulling it off and discarding it onto the ground.
Then I got rid of the rest of my clothes.