Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(68)

“Submission. Acceptance. For me to acquiesce to whatever he demands.”

“Can you imagine his board, the way he has his ships aligned?”

Another tear fell. “Do you think I can?”

“I know you can.”

My chin fell forward as I tried to stop the ache in my chest. The pain was intense. Could it be my heart? No. It wasn’t physical. It was fear, terror as I’d never felt. And in my life I’d been afraid.

“You stopped talking,” Oren said as he lifted my chin.

“I’m not who you think.”

“I beg to differ. I’m very good at reading people. It’s served me well.”

I shook my head. “No.” And then I reconsidered. “Perhaps. I believe that you excel at many things, Oren Demetri, but you have one serious flaw.”

His neck straightened. “Do tell. I’ve not been told.”

A grin threatened my sad facade. “Or perhaps you haven’t listened.”

“Adelaide, you’re wounding me.”

“You see what you want to see, not what is there. I’m not a strong woman. I’m a woman who submits, acquiesces, and accepts. I always have been. It’s how I was raised and how I survived. My father thought no more of me. If he had, he wouldn’t have sentenced me to a life with a man I didn’t love. Alton has never thought more of me.” I shrugged. “And I’ve never given him reason to.”

Oren reached for the remote and turned off the television. When he turned back, the glow of the fire as his backdrop, I stared deeply into his eyes. The blue glistened with the reflection of the fire as the gray beyond the windows grew darker.

“In all the years, did I ever tell you about my mother?”

I sat taller, pulling my legs closer, confirming our physical connection. I shook my head. “No. I don’t even know her name.”

“Paola. It means small.”

I held my breath as he spoke. His timbre slowed as his mind went back through the years.

“And she was—small. A petite woman, like you. My father was big, a giant in my eyes when I was a child. He worked hard, physical labor. He was a longshoreman, Adelaide, manual labor on the docks of New York. I’ve never spoken about my parents, not because I’m ashamed, but because I don’t deserve you. You weren’t raised for the likes of me.”

I leaned forward, my ribs aching as I kissed his lips. I’d endure the pain to take away his. “Please go on.”

“My father worked hard and made it to supervisor. That was an accomplishment for a first-generation American.” His smile came back to life. “But it was my mother who was really the strong one. She was the one who took his paycheck and created a life and a home. He made what he considered good money, but it came at a cost. At the end of the day, she was the one who kept it together. I didn’t realize how vital she was until she was gone.”

“What happened to her?”

“There were protests. They didn’t call them that. The union was in charge. There were rumors of a strike. One night…” He took a deep breath. “…my father went to the shipyard. There had been threats. It was his job. Not that he made enough money for something like that. My mother heard a rumor. She’d overheard something at the market. I didn’t learn the details until I was older. She went to warn him, a little feisty five-foot-tall woman. Because her husband was in danger and she wouldn’t sit back and let fate have its way.”

I waited as he stared out the window, his hands still holding mine.

“My father came home, battered but alive.”

“Your mother?”

“She washed ashore two days later.”

“Oh my God.”

“My father lived only another year. He drank himself to death. I was in college, because that was what she wanted me to do. Neither one of them saw my success or my choices. I’m not sure if they would have approved. They never met Angelina or saw their grandson. They worked hard and taught me to do the same.” Oren squeezed my hand. “My mother lost her life fighting for what she believed, for the man she loved. She was strong. I see that strength in you.

“You have always been strong and little,” he added with a grin. “She had what you didn’t. She had the strength of those around her. It fed her. It fed me. Let me share that with you.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Adelaide Montague, you have survived death. That is more than Paola was able to do. I see a woman who can do anything.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Oren asked.

“Why do you see that? Why have you loved me?”

“Because you let me, because with you I wasn’t just a longshoreman’s son. With you, I’m someone more, just like you are with me. You’re more than a name and a company or an heir. I just wish you’d see yourself as I see you.”

“Call him?”

Oren shook his head. “The attorney first.”

“I’ve only ever worked with Hamilton and Porter.”

“No, amore mio, you have worked with Stephen Crawford.”

A smile came to my lips. I had. “He isn’t an attorney.”

“Not yet, but he can help you with Preston, Madden, and Owen. Daryl Owen has started representing Alexandria and Chelsea.”