Even my family. My guys. Even Maria, though she was close to being my heart. But only Vincent and Angelique had the ability to end me.
I suddenly understood. I understood why he had put the collar on me. I understood why he was so frightened.
Why he had acted like an overgrown caveman.
“I saw her. On the way down. I saw her fall. I swear that our eyes met. She looked . . .” He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was staring right into mine. I felt everything he felt. I felt it all. “She looked happy.”
“Oh, Vincent,” I said. I didn’t move, as much as I wanted to. He wasn’t done yet. I needed to let him say his piece. And then I would say mine.
“So, when you two went missing,” he said with a gentle, rueful smile, “I lost my mind. I think I was certifiably insane. I was so frightened, I could barely think. I felt helpless in a way I hadn’t felt since that day. I don’t think I can handle it, ‘Cesca. I cannot handle losing you or Angelique. You are my life now. I don’t see a reason for living without you.”
With that, he held out his hand. I stood and walked over to him. I took the key. I unlocked the collar.
But I didn’t take it off.
His eyes widened as he realized what I had done. The key fell to the ground as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. It was the most passionate kiss we’d had yet. I could not imagine any kiss being deeper, more soulful, more loving.
When he finally lifted his head, we were both out of breath.
I held up my hand and stepped back, resting my hip on my desk.
“When I was first married, I was so happy. I hadn’t wanted the arrangement at first, but Philip won me over. He hid the worst parts of himself and used his infallible instincts to apply pressure to just the right spots. I knew his reputation, of course. I knew he could be cruel. But not to me. Never to me,” I said with an ironic shake of my head. Vincent squeezed my hand. I could see that he was aroused, but he didn’t make me feel rushed. He didn’t move. He was barely breathing.
“It didn’t take long for him to show me his true colors. He started by criticizing everything about me. How I dressed. How I looked. The way I wore my hair. If I made too much noise. If I was too fat, too thin, too smart, too independent, too needy, too . . . anything, really.”
I closed my eyes. It was hard to admit all of this, even to myself. Hard to admit that I had let someone else pick me apart to that degree. Break me. Weaken me.
“It didn’t happen all at once or I would have stopped it. I would have walked away. But he was too clever for that. His attacks were sporadic at first. Insidious. I was like a lobster in a pot of water that was slowly getting hotter. I was too busy reacting to his latest complaint to see how it was all mounting up, how he was tearing me down as the pile of grievances was growing. So by the time he finally put his hands on me, I was already broken.”
“That bastard. I wish I could kill him again.”
I gave him a grateful look. But I couldn’t hold back the words. I could not stop them now that the floodgates were open.
“He apologized the first time. He seemed so contrite that I immediately forgave him. I hate myself for that.” I exhaled, feeling the truth of it. How much shame I had heaped on myself for that. How much blame I had given where it maybe, just maybe, wasn’t due. “I often wonder what would have happened if I had not forgiven him, if he would have known he could not do that again. I think he would have respected the line I drew in the sand. But I never did.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that here,” I said, pointing to my head. “But I am just starting to realize it here.”
I pointed to my heart. He lifted me to my feet and put his hand over mine. He pressed our hands into my heart. I took his hand and did the same to him. We stood there, mirroring each other’s pain, holding each other’s broken hearts. Mending them.
“He never apologized again. He never stopped hitting. He kicked me a few times, too. He even strangled me once. I thought he would kill me that day. But by then, I had stopped caring whether I lived or died. It was like that almost every single day for over a year. He didn’t stop until I was pregnant. Then suddenly, I was his queen again. His princess. I was untouchable. He was so crazy like that. Everything was black and white with him. He either loved me to the moon and back or he treated me like garbage beneath his feet.”