Undone, Page 7

  “That’s going to go over well.”

  Marco squeezed my shoulder with his big hand. “Tough-love time. We talked about this.”

  Yes, we had. But at the time, I hadn’t realized I’d be doing the tough-loving all on my own.

  I walked them toward the kitchen door, where the car was waiting outside with their bags.

  “I programmed our numbers into your phone,” Marco said, hefting Fee’s bag from the counter. “I also programmed in important numbers for House Merrick, including Fee’s parents in case you can’t reach us. And the number for the local physician in case something goes wrong—which it won’t. Luc’s off all the heavy painkillers.”

  Which was both good and bad. Good because it meant his pain was more manageable, but bad because part of me wanted the drugged Luc back, since he was the only Luc who seemed to want me around. “I hope you left me some sedatives, just in case.”

  Marco grinned as he lifted the last few bags into the trunk of their Range Rover. “Just in case you get tired of his grouching?”

  I shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. “He did drug me several times. I figure turnabout is fair play.”

  Felicity laughed, rushed back up the few steps where I stood, and hugged me. “Heaven help that man. He has no idea what’s waiting for him.”

  I smiled for her benefit, but when she climbed into the car and Marco stood in front of me, I couldn’t seem to muster up the same half-hearted grin.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said to me, eyeing me the way a parent eyes a child when they leave them alone for the first time. “You can do this.”

  I knew I could. I just wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

  I straightened. “Go already. She’s waiting.”

  “We’re only two hours away by air. If you need us, we can be back from Wales in a flash.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will be.” He hugged me. And as I lifted my hands to his shoulders and hugged him back, I realized it was the first time he’d done that. “You’re good for him, Natalie. You’re exactly what he needs. I know you can get him through this.”

  I drew in a shaky breath and forced myself to nod against him. But I couldn’t find my voice. I had no idea if I could get Luc through this or not. I only knew that I had to try.

  He released me, and I waited on the porch while he climbed in the car, even waved as they drove away. When they were gone, I turned back into the house and stared at the empty kitchen and dining room and wondered how the hell our life had gotten so screwed up.

  Less than two weeks ago, I’d walked down the aisle amid a sea of roses and candles and married the man of my dreams in the happiest moment of my life. Today, I was on the verge of losing that man if I didn’t make him remember that we were the only two people in the world who mattered. This was not the honeymoon I’d envisioned. This wasn’t even close to where I thought we’d be after that day.

  I mustered up whatever courage was left inside me, and told myself enough was enough. It was time he dealt with me. And it was way past time we leaned on each other.

  Chapter Five

  Luc

  I had cabin fever.

  After a week being enclosed by these four walls, I was sick of this dainty room and the adjoining balcony that overlooked the lush green lawn and the rocky Scottish coastline beyond. I needed fresh air and a change of scenery, but this damn room was the only place where I was assured I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone or attempt to be social.

  Or face my freakin’ wife.

  A familiar disgust brewed in my gut when I thought of seeing Natalie. Every time I did...

  Maybe I was being a coward, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t look at my own reflection. I couldn’t bare to think what Natalie was seeing or remembering when she looked at me.

  Marco hadn’t listened when I’d told him to have Fee whisk Natalie away and set her up with a new identity someplace where my House couldn’t touch her. He hadn’t even listened when I’d told him to get Natalie as far from me as he could. She was still roaming around in this castle, attempting to check on me even though I’d banned her from my room. As I sat on the chair on my balcony, shivering in nothing but a T-shirt and sweatpants, I cursed this blasted country. Cursed the fact I was here. Cursed everyone, especially Marco for not following my fucking directions.

  Very carefully, I leaned back against the cushions, grimacing at the sting in my back. The wounds were all closed. Fee had taken out the majority of the stitches. But the skin was still tender and hurt like a motherfucker if I brushed up against anything too quickly. I didn’t even like the feel of a shirt against my back, but it was too cold in this country to go without.

  The pain, though, I could handle. It was a good distraction from the self-loathing. And an even better distraction from the nausea I felt anytime I thought about the reason I had those fucking wounds.

  A knock sounded at the bedroom door. From my spot on the balcony with the French doors open, I didn’t even bother to respond. Marco had been in here less than an hour ago, bugging me. I didn’t need a damn thing, and he knew that.

  Hinges creaked in the other room, and I scowled, crossed my arms over my chest, and prepared myself for Marco’s daily you need to get off your ass and start acting human again lecture. The same damn one he’d been leveling me with for the last three days.

  But long minutes passed, and it didn’t happen. Marco didn’t appear on the balcony beside me. In fact, he didn’t even say a word from the other room.

  Confused about what he was up to this time, I carefully leaned forward so as not to irritate my back, then turned and glanced over my shoulder. Only to wish like hell I hadn’t.

  Marco was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Fee. What I did see was my wife, stripping my bed, pulling the dirty sheets off, and replacing them with clean, crisp, fresh ones.

  I pushed to my feet and stepped into the room. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Changing your linens.”

  Dark, curly hair fell over her cheek as she pulled the used fitted sheet from my bed and wadded it into a ball before crossing and tossing it on the floor near the door. She never once looking up at me, and though I didn’t want her glancing my way at all, irritation pumped hot and fast inside me just the same. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Tough. It needs to be done.” She straightened and wadded up the top sheet. “This room stinks like BO.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe I like it that way.”

  She huffed as she leaned over the bed and tucked the fitted sheet around the corner of the mattress. “I’m sure you do.”

  She moved around the end of the bed to the side closest to me and turned her back my way as she hooked the next corner. And as she leaned over the mattress, I had a perfect view of her ass in the thin black leggings she was wearing under her oversized baggy sweatshirt—small and tight, each cheek the perfect size to wrap one hand around.

  Blood gathered in my groin, stiffening my cock for the first time in at least a week. But with the arousal came a swift, sharp stab of pain straight through the center of my chest. One that stole my breath and sent nausea surging up my esophagus.

  Fuck me.

  I was about to get sick—again. Rounding the end of the bed, I made a beeline straight for the bathroom, the one room I hated more than my stupid bedroom, and slammed the door behind me.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the door as I fought the sickness. “Get out of my room, Natalie, and don’t come back. Marco and Fee are the only people I want to see.”

  Footsteps sounded outside my door, then from the other side, I heard her say, “Marco and Fee left this afternoon to visit Fee’s family in Wales. If you need something, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

  My eyes shot open. What the fuck...

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to take out the last of your stitches,” she said in a hard voice. “You’ll just have t
o deal with that too.”

  Footsteps sounded across the hardwood floor in the bedroom, then a door opened and closed. Not hard. Not loud. She didn’t slam it as I half expected her to do. She came and went as if she owned the place. Which, I realized with a sickening feeling, she pretty much did now that we were the only two people in this damn castle and I was hiding up here in my room.

  That sickness in my gut morphed to a whirring misery I was sick of feeling. Exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally—I slid to the floor, let my legs drop on the tiles, and carefully leaned back against the old wood door.

  I was being an ass. I was frustrating the hell out of everyone—especially myself. But I didn’t know how to break free of this self-loathing darkness that had taken over my life. What was even the point?

  For years, I’d told myself that somehow I’d find a way out of my House. I’d even continued to convince myself I could do that after I’d dragged Natalie into this nightmare. But I knew now that was never going to happen. I would never be free of my family, of this fucked-up House. I had zero power. When they’d stepped foot onto Marco’s property, when they’d taken Natalie even after I’d made that fucking deal, they’d proved I was powerless in this world. I couldn’t protect her. And that meant the only way to ensure her safety was for her to get as far from me as possible. Only she was too goddamn stubborn to see that fact for herself.

  My chest seized, and I lifted a hand and placed it over my heart as I breathed through the pain.

  I wanted her gone.

  I wanted her out of my life once and for all so I didn’t have to see her, or hear her, or relive how I’d betrayed her every fucking moment.

  That darkness swirled around me faster. A darkness I was tired of fighting. Giving in to it, I slid to the floor so I was lying on my side on the cold tile, staring at the baseboards, wishing like hell I could just fade into that wood and feel nothing.

  Because, holy hell, anything had to be better than the hell I was living.

  I wasn’t sure what woke me. I only knew when I pulled my eyes open, it was dark, I was lying on my side in bed, and someone was moving around in my room.

  I lifted my head from the pillow and squinted to see through the darkness, only I couldn’t make out shit. “Marco?”

  “Nope.” Footsteps sounded at the foot of my bed, then the nightstand light beside me flicked on, blinding me. “Roll to your stomach so I can check those stitches.”

  I grimaced, slapped a hand over my eyes, and pressed my face into the pillow. Not because Natalie had told me too, dammit, but because my retinas were burning from her little stunt. “Porca troia.”

  “You want to swear at me? Go ahead.” She jerked the sheet from my back. “I really don’t care. Now hold still. These have to come out.”

  She placed a hand against my lower spine, and I felt something cold and metal graze my skin. I sucked in a breath and didn’t move. Not because I was afraid she was going to cut me with the scissors she was using, but because the heat of her palm against my lower spine felt suddenly good—way too damn good.

  Holy hell, it felt way better than I deserved for it to feel. And just that little bit of skin against skin was making me hard. Harder than I’d been since that kitten had ridden me to release right front of my goddamn wife.

  Whatever arousal I’d felt instantly faded, leaving me ice cold inside.

  “Does that hurt?”

  The scissors paused against my skin. Realizing I must have groaned, I bit down hard on my lip. “No,” I said into my pillow. “Just fucking finish.”

  Motherfucker, I wanted this over with. I wanted her out of my room. And dammit, I wanted her to stop touching me even though I loved that she was touching me because I was getting hard all over again.

  Every time she moved her hand a fraction of an inch, my dick stiffened a little more, which only made me think about that fucked-up ritual and what I’d done, sending a new wave of nausea spinning in my gut.

  “There, that’s the last of it.” She lifted the scissors from my skin.

  “Good.” I turned my head just enough so I could draw fresh air, but I left the pillow hanging over my eyes so I didn’t have to look at her. And I fought the urge to shove her away from me so she couldn’t see what her touch had done to me. “Now go.”

  “You need bandages on these.”

  “No, I do—”

  “Would you stop being such an asshole for two seconds?”

  My mouth snapped closed, and against the mattress, I grew still.

  “I’m busting my butt trying to help you, you know.” She slapped several bandages against my lower spine harder than I’m sure she intended but not even close to what I deserved. Pain shot across my back, making me grimace, but I held it in so she couldn’t see. “The least you could do is be the slightest bit grateful.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” I snapped.

  “No, of course you didn’t. Because when push comes to shove, you revert right back to the dick you were when we first met.” She smacked the last bandage on my back even harder than the others and pushed her weight off the bed. “Doing everything on your own without any regard for anyone else’s feelings. If it weren’t for me and Marco and Felicity, you’d probably be dead right now from sepsis.”

  The shaky hold on my temper blew free, and I shot to my feet before I knew what I was doing. “I didn’t ask for anyone’s help.”

  “Who the hell cares?” She stopped at the foot of the bed and whipped back to face me, her eyes so wide, I could see the whites around her pretty blue irises. “We’re family, or did you forget that? When one of us is hurt or sick or in pain, we help each other. That’s what families do.”

  “Not my fucking family. My family inflicts the pain. You saw it with your own damn eyes.”

  Her features softened, and she stepped toward me. “Luc—”

  “Porca puttana.” Why the hell had I brought that up? I whipped away from her, my hands and body and everything shaking with a fury I could only just contain. “Get out of my room.”

  “No,” she said softly. Close. Too close at my back. “I’ve left every time you’ve barked at me before, but I’m not leaving anymore. You need me.”

  “I don’t fucking need you,” I scoffed.

  “Yes, you do.” She moved even closer, until I could feel her heat spreading over the fresh scars on my bare skin, making me tingle with excitement. Making my skin crawl and itch with disgust at the same damn time, the two reactions scrambling the wires in my brain. “You need me the same way I need you.”

  “Dio dannato. I don’t need anyone.” Unable to control the firestorm inside me, I swept my arm across the nightstand, sending the lamp flying. It hit the ground with a thunk and shattered the bulb, dousing the room in darkness. “Get the hell out!”

  My body vibrated. My hands shook. Breathing fast and shallow, I listened for the sound of her retreating footsteps, for the door slamming shut in her wake, but the sounds never met my ears. And as I twisted to confirm that she’d gone, I realized she hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even flinched. She was still standing mere inches from me by the side of the bed, staring up at me in the darkness with every bit of challenge and independence she’d ever had before.

  “No,” she whispered. “I said I’m not leaving you, and I’m not. You’re suffering.”

  She stepped into me, and I froze the second her fingertips brushed my bare stomach. Because holy fuck, her touch made me sick to my stomach. But it also made me hotter than hell in a way I didn’t understand.

  I closed my eyes and breathed deep. I wanted to shove her hands away and tell her never to touch me again. At the same time, though, I wanted to beg for her to never let go. The conflicting thoughts were making me crazy, hot, fucking hard.

  She moved even closer, until—oh mother of God—I felt her lips graze my chest. My legs grew weak. I swayed and backed up until I hit the nightstand.

  “You need me,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss right
above my left pec, right over my heart. “And I need you just as much. It’s been so long, Luc. I’m suffering too. I need to be close to you.”

  She kissed me again, but this time, instead of the hot burst of arousal that stiffened my dick, all I felt was nausea. A swirling, rolling, growing nausea, because her meaning had just hit me like a two-by-four straight to the forehead.

  Sex. She wants sex.

  My breaths quickened as her lips skimmed my throat and her fingertips trailed up my chest and around my nape.

  With me.

  I stood still while her lips moved up to my jaw, softly kissing and nipping at my skin. As her lithe body skimmed mine and her breasts grazed my chest.

  With a man who is every bit the beast she said I was back in Rome.

  “Luc...” Her fingers slid into my hair, and her hips pressed against mine.

  I closed my eyes, fighting the conflicting feelings warring inside me—between arousal and nausea, pleasure and pain, love and hate. Between the man she thought I was and the monster I was destined to be.

  “Vita mia,” she whispered, kissing my cheek, moving closer to my mouth with every graze of her tempting lips. “Ho voglia di te.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was her use of Italian or the words she’d spoken—My life...I want you—but for whatever reason, before she could kiss my lips, I grasped her at the wrists and jerked her hands from my body, holding them between us.

  She stared up at me in the dark with wide eyes. Wide and just the slightest bit frightened eyes, as if she wasn’t sure who I was anymore or what I would do next. And in the silence, all that self-loathing I’d been fighting came rushing back. Along with whispered words in my ear, growing louder with every second. The same words my father had whispered after I’d been unchained in that ritual room.

  “You’ve spent your whole life thinking you’re better than me. Than the other men in this House. But you’re not. You just proved it by fucking that kitten in front of your new wife. By breaking a sacred vow not even a day after you made it. By enjoying every single second of what those kittens did to you.