AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Shut up,” Jack responded then pinned Portia with his gaze. “Don’t I deserve even a moment alone with you? We were engaged, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, and you cheated,” Portia snapped, frustrated now with Jack’s playing the victim.
“Just shut up,” Jack replied to Portia but it was Marco he went for, shoving him in the chest. “Who the hell even are you to be here with her?”
Marco took the hit, barely losing any ground, eyeing Jack down without moving. That only angered Jack more and this time, he lifted a hand and swung at Marco’s face.
“Does it make you feel better?” Marco asked, his tone cool, his eyes fierce. “To blame someone else? You need to turn your attention inside and admit your mistakes. See what you did to Portia, who deserves, and has always deserved, a hell of a lot more respect than you treated her with.”
Portia’s heart ached and soared.
“What the hell do you know?” Jack was almost incoherent, as he lunged for Marco again, whose face had already absorbed one hit and turned a startling shade of pink. This time, Marco shifted sideways and Jack, caught off balance by the force of his attempted lunge, fell forward, crashing into the kitchen table and then stumbling to the floor. He must have hit his face on the way down because he too had a dark mark across his brow.
“This is ridiculous,” Portia said, moving to Marco with concern, lifting a finger to the bruise, spreading across his cheek.
Jack stood, Portia felt him behind her.
“You should leave,” Marco’s body was tense. “I have avoided hitting you back because I feel sorry for you, but my self-restraint is slipping.”
“Why the hell should you feel sorry for me?” Jack spat.
“Because you had the loyalty and love of someone like Portia and treated it as though it were nothing. What a fool you are.”
Portia’s heart exploded through her body. Her breath hurt. Her lungs were too big and too small at once.
Jack moved once more, lunging for Marco, but the latter was too quick. He pushed Portia gently, moving her out of harm’s way, and blocked Jack’s punch with his shoulder, then turned quickly and caught him by the backs of his arms, propelling him towards the door. Jack was not a small man, by any means, but he was no match for Marco, who drove a now spluttering and ranting Jack to the door and pushed him outside, then closed the door, locked it, and returned to Portia, all the concern in his face forher.
“Cara,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”
She was shaking, but not because of Jack, just because of the shock of having had such violence in her own home. “I’ve never seen that side of him,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry,” she lifted a hand to Marco’s cheek. “He had no right—,”
“No. But I am not worried about him. You’re shaking.” He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her against his big, strong, steady body, holding her there, letting his strength ebb into her, and it did, like a river soothing her frazzled nerves.
Tears filled her eyes, but they were tears of gratitude and warmth, of something big and important she couldn’t analyse. Emotions were overwhelming her, but that had very little to do with Jack. Everything she felt revolved around Marco. It was as if seeing Jack and Marco in the same room had shown her how insufficient Jack had always been, how completely unremarkable their relationship. How much she’d been settling for him, because it was easy. No, worse. Because it made everyone else in their lives happy!
She pulled away from Marco, looking up at him. The concern in his face made her tummy clench but that was nothing compared to how she felt, as she saw the bruising on his cheek. “God, your face,” she said with a cry, forgetting about her revelation and quickly moving to the kitchen, grabbing out a bag of frozen peas which she wrapped in a tea towel and brought back to him, lifting it to the bruised flesh. He allowed the ministrations with obvious reluctance.
“I’ve had worse.”
“I hate violence.”
“It seems unnecessary, doesn’t it?”
“You were so calm.”
“I wasn’t. Men like him make me furious.”
She waited for him to explain.
“He’s made a mistake but then he’s flailing about looking for someone to blame—as if you choosing not to let him back into your life is a failing of yours. I cannot stand a lack of personal responsibility.”
Portia lifted her hand, to take over holding the frozen peas.
“I can’t believe he attacked you.”
“Is he a man who’s always gotten his own way in life, Portia? Someone who received whatever he wanted? Who never had to work hard for success?”
Her lips tugged to the side, and she was tempted to point out that all of the Santoro men had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouths, but they were not spoiled nor lazy. They worked hard, their business was something none of them took for granted, and they had good values—she thought of how they all went home for family lunches and helped their mother cook. She thought of Marco and his winery and the pleasure he took in the simple things like soil and grapes and her heart burst with pride for the hard work and energy he’d poured into those things despite the fact he could have sat back and enjoyed being fed peeled grapes.
