“Elena.” He sits back and stares at me in surprise.
“You weren’t from the right pedigree. You certainly weren’t who my father would have chosen for me. So, I had to keep it all a secret. I stupidly thought that if we got married, if I went to them and said it was already done, there wouldn’t be anything they could do about it. I figured they’d just have to get used to it.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Christ.”
“My father was insanely pissed,” I continue, flinching at the memory of my father’s face when I told him. “I’d seen him angry before, of course. He was a scary man, especially when he was mad. But I’d never seen him like that.” I shudder at the memory of those days. Of the beating, the whipping.
The branding.
“What did your mother think?” he asks, pulling me out of the horrible memories.
I frown. “It didn’t matter what she thought. My father was the boss. And not just of the household, Archer, he was a mob boss. An insanely powerful man. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it in a heartbeat and wouldn’t have lost a moment of sleep over it.”
He finishes his fifth taco and pushes his plate away, then takes a sip of his drink.
“Did he still punish you?”
You have no idea.
I shrug a shoulder and look out at the water. Gulls fly overhead, and the bottom of the sun is just starting to kiss the top of the horizon. The sky is a riot of color, like a fresh bruise. Like the ones I wore around my eyes for days.
“Did he punish you?” he asks again.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Making me lose you was the worst of it.”
Emotional pain is always worse than physical.
“What else did that fucker do?”
His voice is hard now. I glance back at him and let my eyes roam over his face, his eyes and nose, full mouth. Yes, losing Archer was the worst thing that ever happened to me in my life.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
I stand and walk to the railing and watch people walking on the sand below. Archer joins me. He’s close but doesn’t touch me.
“There’s a code in the family. They don’t physically hurt women. Punishments are psychological, and there were plenty of those over the years. I was usually a good girl, so the punishments were always small. But this was a pretty big deal, and I pushed him past his patience.”
“What did he do?”
“Archer, it was a long time ago.” And something I don’t like to think about. Because when I do, I can feel the whip. I can smell my dad’s cologne. I remember the helplessness I felt as I hung by my hands, and the despair when I realized that my relationship with Archer was over.
But that was long ago, and I have no plans to rehash it.
He takes my shoulders in his hands and nudges my chin up to look me in the eyes. I don’t want to tell him. It’ll make him feel guilty and hurt all over again.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Will you ever want to talk about it?” He steps back and shakes his head in disappointment. “We can’t build a relationship on lies.”
He tosses my own words from the beach the other day back at me.
“I’m not lying to you. I’m telling you, point-blank, that I don’t want to talk about the shitty past. Can’t we just enjoy this sunset and each other’s company for a while? Can’t we simply live in the here and now?”
He sighs, and his eyes soften. “For now. But not forever, Elena. I deserve the answers to my questions.”* * *Despite the frustrating conversation earlier, the evening has been wonderful. An incredible sunset and even better conversation made the time fly.
If he asks me to stay tonight, I don’t know if I’ll be able to say no.
It feels too good being with him like this, in this amazing house. I could almost let myself daydream for a moment that this is our house. That we’re married and living our life like ordinary people. The way it should be. The way it was supposed to be.
But that’s silly, and I learned long ago that such daydreams are a waste of time and energy.
“What are you thinking about?” Archer asks after slipping the last dish into the dishwasher and snapping it shut.
“That I’m glad I came here tonight,” I reply.
“I am, too. You look good, sitting here in my kitchen.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
His impossibly blue eyes narrow, the way they always did when he was feeling particularly sexy. I don’t have to be a mind reader to know he wants me. The feeling is entirely mutual.