Destroyed(64)

As strange as it seemed, we understood each other and time moved forward. Fox knew I wouldn’t put up with his violence, and I knew he wouldn’t tolerate being touched.

It was a whole new world full of wanting and fearing.

During the day, I stayed with Fox. We explored his house, or went for walks in the semi-wild gardens around his property. He showed me how to help with the paperwork of Obsidian and most days I sat beside him at his desk filing receipts, sending out monthly invoices for membership, and offering suggestions on how to improve productivity.

Instead of being possessive of his company, Fox listened intensely, nodding to advice, and softly answering questions about the legal aspects of his club.

Our minds found even ground, laying the foundation for a topsy-turvy friendship that seethed with chemistry and need, but was never acted upon.

Fox opened his life to me—every avenue of his business, every account and password on his computer—but not once did he let me touch him, or ask anything about his past.

The smiles he gave were tinged with shadows; the laughs echoed with loneliness. My heart screamed for him to recognise the gift I wanted to give him. I wanted the honour of healing him. I wanted the joy of bringing him true happiness.

But it didn’t seem possible.

I’d catch him watching me as I bent over his books or walked silently by his side. His smoky eyes were so damn expressive he didn’t need words.

The message was loud and clear.

Why are you still here?

Why waste your time on me?

I’ll only destroy you.

I ignored those messages. I also ignored my own thoughts.

Lying in bed at night, listening to the soft breathing of Clara, I rifled through my feelings toward him.

I’d told him I hadn’t forgiven him for the bruises and terrible fear he’d instilled in me. Even though I lived a dangerous past, facing pain and not-so-perfect choices, I’d never been so petrified before. The thoughts running through my head when his fingers crushed my windpipe had been full of Clara. She’d never know how much I loved her. She’d never understand I’d do anything for her.

But then, thankfulness layered my horror. Thankful that I would die before my offspring—I wouldn’t have to see her wither and beg for help I couldn’t give.

Fox made me assess every inch of my life and I hated him for it. I didn’t think I’d ever truly get over what he’d done, but at the same time, he was the most real and unapologetic man I’d ever met.

Fox never told me where he went on the night he took me, but the bruises around his eye and cheek bone had faded to a muddy yellow. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to his joints clicking or his back creaking whenever he moved after sitting for a period of time. He sounded like an old tin solider badly in need of some oil.

At five p.m. every night, I would leave Fox and catch a taxi from his home to mine. He’d given me the one hundred thousand cash he promised, and I was able to afford another trial inhaler for Clara. He tried to drive me, but I flat-out refused. While I admitted I had a fondness for him, an insatiable need to fix him, and a craving for him physically, I was still afraid of what he was capable of. He was an undetonated hand-grenade, and I had no intention of letting him near Clara. He had his secrets, and I had mine. That was the way it had to be.

Clara would launch her warm, squirmy body into my arms and we’d eat together, watch television, do her homework, then giggle and talk in the dark until she fell asleep. I hoarded those moments like gold dust, locking each memory into a safe inside my mind, knowing each recollection would torture me when she was gone.

Every morning, I woke with the hope that doctors had diagnosed wrong. Clara seemed too healthy and vibrant—her hair glossy, eyes bright and mind inquisitive.

At ten a.m. every day I would return to Fox and climb into his bed. He’d wake, smile, then go back to sleep, leaving me to sunbathe in bright sunshine, keeping vigil until midday when he woke.

For a week, I balanced my two lives perfectly; I began to think it could work.

But of course, life liked to prove me wrong.





“Holy crap, you scared me,” I said, clutching the folders tighter against my chest. It was early afternoon, and I’d been working on ordering more supplies for Obsidian’s fighters. Fox had disappeared an hour ago, saying he’d be back.

I didn’t expect him to be silent and lurking against the black walls of his office—completely unnoticeable until he moved.

His lips twitched but he didn’t fully smile. He never did. Just once I’d like to see him let go and be happy.

If he knew how to, of course.

“Sorry. I was waiting for you.” He moved forward and took the heavy files from me, placing them on his desk. I’d been down on the fighting floor with Oscar taking note of the dwindling supplies that we needed.

He’d asked for more hookers, and I slapped him playfully. As much as I didn’t want to admit—I liked Oscar. He’d called me a whore and grabbed my boob, but beneath the brash exterior lurked a fun-some surfer whose blue eyes caused one or two wings of attraction in my stomach.

He was so different to Fox. Sun to dark. Happy to brooding. But I wouldn’t stray—not that I had any relationship obligations to Fox apart from a money transaction—but my feelings had grown from lust to something deeper.

I no longer thought about our time together just for a month. I would stay until Fox smiled with his soul. I would stay until he could make love to me like I wanted him to.