The Marakaios Baby (The Marakaios Brides 2)

Leo was silent for a moment, then finally he asked, ‘Who are you, then?’

‘A street rat from Marseilles.’ She glanced at him, expecting to see if not disgust then at least surprise. But Leo looked completely unfazed.

‘How did a “street rat from Marseilles” end up as a confident career woman in Paris?’ he asked after a moment.

‘Luck and hard work, I suppose.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears and gazed out at the wintry afternoon. ‘But I’ve always felt like a street rat inside.’

‘That doesn’t mean you are, Margo. I don’t think anyone feels like the person they present to the world all the time.’

She pretended to look shocked. ‘You mean you don’t feel like an arrogant, all-powerful CEO all the time?’

He smiled and gave a little shrug. ‘Well, obviously I’m the exception.’

She laughed at that, and then shook her head. ‘Oh, Leo.’ She let out a weary sigh, a sound of sadness. ‘If you knew about my childhood...’

‘Then tell me,’ he said.

And although his voice was soft she knew it was a command. A command she should obey, because she’d already come to the decision that she needed to tell him the truth. But truth was a hard, hard thing.

‘I grew up one step away from the street,’ she began slowly. ‘And sometimes not even that. My mother was a drug addict. Crystal meth—although I didn’t realise that until later. But it...the drug...controlled her life.’

Now, surely, he would look shocked. But when Margo looked at him his expression was still calm, although his mouth had pulled down at the corners with sympathy.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I.’ She let out a wobbly laugh that trembled into a half-sob. ‘Oh, God, so am I.’

‘Was she able to care for you?’

‘No, not really, and sometimes not at all. At the beginning, yes. Before she became an addict. At least I think she did. I survived, anyway. But my father left when I was four—I only have a few fuzzy memories of him.’

‘That must have been hard.’

‘Yes.’

The few fuzzy memories she had were precious—of a man who’d pulled her into a bear hug and swung her in the air. Why had he left? It was a question that had tormented her for years. How could a man walk away from his family? Had she not been lovable enough?

‘After he left my mother went very much downhill.’

She lapsed into silence then, because she did not want to tell him how grim it had been. The sheltered housing, the stints in various homeless shelters, the weeks when she’d been taken away from her mother and sent from one foster home to another. Some of them had been good, some of them mediocre, and some of them had been very bad. But always, in the end, she’d been brought back for her mother to try again, having promised she’d stay clean, and for a few days, sometimes a few weeks, she had.

Life during those periods had been normal, if fragile, and sometimes Margo would begin to believe it was going to be okay this time. Then she’d come home from school to find her mother strung out, or manically high, the promises all broken, and the whole cycle would start once more.

Until Annelise. But she really didn’t want to talk about Annelise.

‘Margo?’ Leo prompted softly. ‘Tell me more. If she couldn’t care for you, how did you survive?’

She shrugged. ‘Sometimes not very well. I was in and out of foster homes my whole childhood. When I was old enough I learned to take care of myself.’

‘And how old was that?’ Leo asked in a low voice.

‘Seven...eight? I could use the gas ring in our bedsit and I could make basic meals. I got myself to school most days. I managed.’

‘Oh, Margo.’ He shook his head, reached for her hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

‘I don’t talk about my childhood to anyone,’ she said, her voice thickening. ‘Ever. It’s too awful. And in any case, Leo, we didn’t have that kind of relationship.’

His fingers tightened on hers. ‘Do we now?’

Her heart lurched at the thought. ‘I...I don’t know.’

Which was what he had said to her yesterday morning. So much uncertainty, for both of them, and yet here she was confessing. Trying.

‘Tell me more about your childhood,’ Leo said after a moment.

She closed her eyes briefly. ‘I could go into details, but I’m sure you can guess. It...it wasn’t pretty, Leo.’

‘I know that.’ He was silent for a moment, his fingers still entwined with hers. ‘But there’s something more, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me?’