Bared to You(67)

"Hey," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. "Is this about me being an ass at lunch? Or whatever it is you need to say to me? Talk to me, Eva, so I can tell you it'll be okay."

I nuzzled my nose between his pecs, feeling the tickle of crisp chest hair against my cheek and breathing in the reassuring, familiar scent of his skin. "You should sit down. I have to tell you things about me. Ugly things."

Gideon reluctantly let me go when I pulled away from him. I curled up on his couch with my legs tucked underneath me and he poured us both glasses of golden wine before taking a seat. Leaning toward me, he draped one arm over the back of the sofa and held his glass with the other hand, giving me every bit of his attention.

"Okay. Here goes." I took a deep breath before starting, feeling dizzy from the elevated rate of my pulse. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so nervous or sick to my stomach.

"My mother and father never married. I really don't know too much about how they met, because neither of them talks about it. I know my mom came from money. Not as much as she married into, but more than most people have. She was a debutante. Had the whole white dress and presentation thing. Getting pregnant with me was a mistake that got her disowned, but she kept me."

I looked down into my glass. "I really admire her for that. There was a lot of pressure for her to make the baby - make me - go away, but she went through with the pregnancy anyway. Obviously."

His fingers sifted through my shower-damp hair. "Lucky me."

I caught his fingers and kissed his knuckles, then held his hand in my lap. "Even with a kid in tow, she was able to land herself a millionaire. He was a widower with a son just two years older than me, so I think they both thought they'd found the perfect arrangement. He traveled a lot and was rarely home, and my mom spent his money and took over raising his son."

"I understand the need for money, Eva," he murmured. "I have to have it, too. I need the power of it. The security."

Our eyes met. Something passed between us with that small admission. It made it easier for me to say what came next.

"I was ten the first time my stepbrother raped me - "

The stem of his glass snapped in his hand. He moved so swiftly he was a blur, catching the bowl of his goblet against his thigh before it spilled its contents.

I scrambled to my feet when he rose to his. "Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he bit out. He went into the kitchen and threw the broken glass away, shattering it further. I set my own glass down carefully, my hands shaking. I heard cupboards opening and closing. A few minutes later Gideon returned with a tumbler of something darker in his hand.

"Sit down, Eva."

I stared at him. His frame was rigid, his eyes icy cold. He scrubbed a hand over his face and said more gently, "Sit down...please."

My weakened knees gave out and I sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling the robe tighter around me.

Gideon remained standing, taking a large swallow of whatever was in his hand. "You said the first time. How many times were there?"

I took conscious breaths, trying to calm myself. "I don't know. I lost count."

"Did you tell anyone? Did you tell your mother?"

"No. My God, if she'd known, she would've gotten me out of there. But Nathan made sure I was too afraid to tell her." I tried to swallow past a tight, dry throat and winced at the painful sandpapery burn. When my voice came again, it was barely a whisper. "There was a time when it got so bad I almost told her anyway, but he knew. Nathan could tell I was close. So he broke my cat's neck and left her on my bed."

"Jesus Christ." His chest was heaving. "He wasn't just f*cked up, he was insane. And he was touching you...Eva."

"The servants had to know," I went on numbly, staring at my twisted hands. I just wanted to get it over with, to get it all out so I could put it back into the box in my mind where I forgot about it in my day-to-day life. "The fact that they didn't say anything either told me they were scared, too. They were grownups and they didn't say a word. I was a child. What could I do if they wouldn't do anything?"

"How did you get out?" he asked hoarsely. "When did it end?"

"When I was fourteen. I thought I was having my period, but there was too much blood. My mother panicked and took me to the emergency room. I'd had a miscarriage. In the course of the exam they found evidence of...other trauma. Vaginal and anal scarring - "