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I just blinked at him, too stunned to speak.
“Chi è questa ragazza?” she asked him, her gaze never leaving me.
He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, answering her in Italian, where I caught the word “studente.”
Her eyes cleared a bit and she offered me a tentative smile.
“Valentina, this is Olivia.” He waved his hand my way, his eyes begging me to keep my mouth shut. “Olivia, this is Valentina. My wife.”
I sucked in a breath as the blood drained from my head. I gripped the railing next to me as I became wobbly on my feet. “Your wife?” I whispered.
“Olivia . . .”
Someone zipped by behind them—a child maybe—catching my attention, and I had to swallow back the bile in my throat as my heart fractured in my chest.
He had a wife and a family. It was never going to be me.
Never.
Twenty-One
Justin
The post-sex euphoria had worn off, but as we lay in the dark, something even more intimate took its place as she told me her story. Our flesh wasn’t the only thing naked in that moment as she finally told me everything—every single thing I knew she’d been holding back. Things I was pretty sure she hadn’t told another soul.
The fucker was married with children. I couldn’t wrap my head around what kind of man did that to not one, but two women. Not to mention the kids. What a piece of shit. But did that make him dangerous? In my experience, I knew anything was possible, especially if things in his life had taken a turn. The wife could’ve found out about his infidelity and left his sorry ass. He could’ve gotten himself fired and lost his shit, and now wanted some kind of twisted revenge. Who knew?
My mind was ticking through the possibilities as I traced my fingertips down her spine to the dip in her lower back, then back up. “Did you talk to him again?”
She nodded against my chest. “He found me at the studio when I was dropping off the engagement ring and we had a pretty bad fight. He said some awful things... things I never imagined he could say.” Her voice became low and steeped in emotion.
“What kind of things?” When she didn’t answer me, I gently tipped her chin up until she met my gaze. “Olivia. What kind of things?”
“He blamed me for everything. Said his wife was suspicious and that she was threatening to leave him... can you believe that?” She sucked in a breath and barreled ahead. “He screamed and threw things around the studio, saying he refused to lose everything because of me. He said I was a mistake, that he never loved me. That he could never love our bastard...” When she tried to look away, I held her head in my grip. I needed to know, and she needed to share this burden. “He hoped we both died a painful, miserable death.”
“Jesus!”
Tears overflowed her lids and began to course down her cheeks. “He hadn’t gotten my messages. He had no idea I’d just been in the hospital and how much his words hurt.” She swiped angrily at her tears. “I was coming over there to tell him everything was okay with the baby. I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t answered my calls, but I was still hoping we could celebrate—” Her words were lost to a cry.
I collected her close to my chest and cupped her head in my hand. “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “It’s okay now. I’ve got you.”
I held her while she cried it out, then as she got it together. No wonder she’d fled home to Texas and given up her career with the ballet company to start her own studio. She’d healed, then found a new dream as a mother despite what that asshole had done to her. She hadn’t caved in on herself and given in to the darkness or put her own needs ahead of her child. No. She’d taken the hand life dealt her and made the best of it, rising like a phoenix, reborn from the ashes, stronger and more beautiful than before.
Olivia Creed had to be the strongest woman I’d ever known, and I was in awe of her.
I also knew it was time to come clean with her.
“Olivia?” I slid my hand up her side, then back down to her waist.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something.”
She froze, everything in her going still like she was expecting me to tell her I was dying or something.
I used a finger to tilt her chin up so she faced me. “It’s probably not what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
