Chapter Eleven

Diana

I wake up in the night, heart pounding, my breath coming in short gasps. A sharp whine echoes in my ears, followed by a snap and a desperate bark. I can smell the stench of that backyard—fetid garbage piled in heaps made more pungent by the crisp sharpness of winter.

And I can still feel it. Lucy’s tiny, cold body shivering in my arms. My heart pitching into my throat as I close my eyes. Brace for the next sudden stinging lash, the burning pain that follows and sinks so deep into my skin I’ll never fully be rid of it.

The bed dips. I scramble back, away. It’s dark, too dark. I can’t see. I know Dale’s in jail, he’s not here, but I can’t see—

“Diana.”

Ari whispers my name. This time my whimper is one of relief. A moment later his arms come around me, strong yet gentle as he pulls me onto his lap. I curl into a ball, my hands sneaking around his neck as I bury my face in his chest.

He doesn’t say anything, just rocks me back and forth. Gradually the tension bleeds out of my body. I should feel embarrassed, humiliated. But I don’t. I feel safe. Protected.

I start talking, knowing if I don’t say it now, I may never get back to this point of being raw enough to tell him what happened.

“Her name was Lucy. A chocolate Labrador I found in my foster father Dale’s backyard. It wasn’t a bad home at first. But his wife ran off a couple months after I got there, and he became angry. He drank a lot.”

It had been so lonely in that house. So fearful.

“Lucy’s fur was all matted and her ribs stood out against her skin. She was so tiny.” I smile. “But she came right up to me, tail wagging, tongue lolling out. She had so much to be sad about and she was so happy. Dale only went out on the porch to toss garbage into the yard, so I set her up with this old trashcan and piled trash on the sides. Stuffed a blanket inside and snuck her food and water every day. I took out the trash every morning so Dale wouldn’t have an excuse to go back there.”

A tremble passes through me. Ari strokes a soothing hand down my hair.

“We made it two weeks. I’d known Liam and Aislinn for a couple months by then. Our high school counselor put us all in the same theater class because we were all foster kids.” I smile slightly. “At first we hated it, felt like she was calling us out. But looking back, it was the best possible thing that could have happened to us.

“We started meeting up in the alley behind the house and took Lucy for walks to the park.” I hold up my wrist. The silver heart catches the light of the moon, glints off the four letters etched onto the surface. “It was the happiest I’d been since I was put in care. Maybe even in my entire life.”

I stop. Need a moment to catch my breath before I continue. Ari doesn’t push. He just gently sways back and forth as he continues to hold me.

“And then one day, Lucy barked. I was inside the kitchen making Dale’s lunch. He heard her and was sober enough to figure out it was coming from the backyard. He stalked out with his belt. He hated dogs. I ran after him.” My voice catches. “He’d already found her. Cornered her. She was whimpering and then he brought the belt down and he…”

Tears start coursing down my cheeks. “I heard her cry. I ran across the yard and tried to pull him away. He pushed me. I tried jumping on his back, but he flung me off like I was nothing.”

I still remember that feeling, the sheer anger at being so helpless against someone with more power. Of feeling like once more I was failing someone in need.

“I darted around him and grabbed Lucy. I tried to run, but Dale tripped me. I fell. I saw him bring the belt up, so I curled around Lucy and I… I held her.”

Ari’s arms tighten around me. I can’t see his face. I don’t want to. Not yet.

“Liam and Aislinn came through the back gate. Liam shoved Dale mid-lash. That’s why the third scar is shorter. Dale was strong. But so was Liam. And he was furious.”

I can still hear the crack of Dale’s nose breaking. Fists against flesh. Of Aislinn on her knees next to me telling me I was safe, that she and Liam were here, before she yelled at Liam to stop before he killed Dale.

“A neighbor had seen what happened and called the police. Dale tried to say Liam had been attacking me and I got in the way when he was trying to chase Liam off. But the neighbor confirmed my version of what happened.”

I suck in a shuddering breath. And then I look up at him. He’s staring down at me, his face solemn, his eyes glittering with an icy rage.

“Friendship is a pale word for what I have with Liam and Aislinn. They both went to court with me. Liam took the stand and told the jury everything. I have no doubt his testimony is what helped get Dale locked away for so long. And Aislinn…” Just saying her name makes my chest ache. “Aislinn stayed with me in the hospital. Rubbed the medicated lotion the doctors gave me onto my back every night for weeks.”

“And Lucy?”

“My new caseworker got Aislinn and I into a group home. Liam was eighteen and found an apartment nearby. He kept her until I aged out of the group home. She passed away three years ago.” More tears roll down my face. “Liam and Aislinn were there, too. She was…she was…”

Years of grief threaten to break through. I put a hand on Ari’s chest, push back. His arms tighten for a moment.

But then he yields. I stand up and walk to the balcony doors. The clouds are gone. The moon shines down, making the beach glitter and the sea sparkle.

“The only two people I’ve trusted in this world since my mom left are Liam and Aislinn.”

The bed creaks. I can feel the heat of his body as he stops behind me, resist the urge to lean back into him. I’ve given him enough tonight. It’s time to stand on my own two feet.

“Why are you telling me this?”

I turn, start to reply, when something catches my eye. I turn back to the window. There’s a hint of green just above the sea.

“Is that…?”

The color shifts. Brightens.

“Yes.”

Ari’s voice is right next to my ear, deep and husky. I lean back toward him, hesitate when I feel his bare chest against my back.

A ribbon of emerald and purple winds its way across the sky, a slow, curling dance as the hues deepen.

“Oh my God.”

More threads of color weave their way across the stars, shifting, glimmering for miles on end. My smile is so big it makes my face hurt.

We stand there, bound together by the incredible display of nature taking place above us and the truths we’ve shared. For one moment, I allow myself to simply feel, to enjoy.

Gradually, the colors start to fade. The ribbons shrink, still beautiful but dimmer.

“You’re lucky.”

Ari’s breath is warm against my ear. I shiver.

“How so?”

“Many tourists come to Iceland to see the Lights. Many leave without seeing them. Or,” he adds as I turn to face him, “they see a sedated version of what you just saw. Most don’t realize the pictures and videos show different levels of light than what you can usually see with the naked eye.”

“Then, I’ll count myself lucky.”

His face sobers. “Lucy was lucky to have you, too.”

I stare at him. Tears burn at the backs of my eyes. “Why do you say things like that?”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Things like that,” I say as I drop a finger in his direction. “Things like what you said in New York.”

“What I said in New York?” he repeats.

“It’s so much easier when you’re cold. When I think you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Diana.”

“See? Things like that.”

One side of his mouth quirks up. “So what am I allowed to say?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. I just know when you say things like that, I feel like you see me and…” My voice trails off.

Ari steps toward me. I step back, coming up against the cool glass of the balcony doors. “Would it be so bad if I saw you?”

“Yes.”

The word is wrenched from the depths of my soul, buried under years of hurt and rejection.

“Why did you tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

He leans down. “I think you do know. You wanted to tell me. Wanted me to know. I think you are far more lonely, Diana North, than you even realize.”

His words hit home. I’ve been telling myself for years that my friendships with Liam and Aislinn were enough. That I would never be ready for a relationship—a love that would require baring my body and my soul. I told myself I couldn’t give enough of myself to another person. But the truth is far more cowardly.

I’m scared. I’m scared of showing someone the deepest depths of my trauma, of them seeing it and doing what almost everyone else in my life has done: walk away. Liam and Aislinn are my miracles. Miracles don’t happen twice in one lifetime.

As we stand there, I become aware of his state of dress, or lack thereof. He’s wearing nothing but boxers molded to his thick, muscular thighs. My sharp inhale echoes in the room. He’s hard, a swell of black fabric that makes my thighs clench.

His body jerks. My head snaps up. The tendons in his neck are taut, shoulders tense.

“Ari—”

His hand drops away. He steps back.

“Go to bed, Diana.”

Confused, I stare at him. “Ari—”

“Go. To. Bed.”

I walk past him, my eyes downcast. I crawl back into bed, pull the sheets and blankets over me, and roll away from him. I hear him wrestling, moving about the room. There’s the faint squeak of the couch as he settles back down.

I close my eyes, breathe in. Breathe out. Fight the now-familiar sting of humiliation.

If he wouldn’t have pulled away, I would have offered myself to him. For the first time in my adult life, I had wanted someone to see my scars. Wanted to show him that part of me willingly, not because I was forced to. But my wounds have become a barrier between us, my confessions rebuilding the walls I just tried to tear down and driving him away.

It’s for the best, my mind whispers. I don’t need anything more with Ari. He’s my boss. I still haven’t figured out how to tell Liam what happened. And above all, every time I confess something to Ari, every time we touch, I slip closer and closer to that edge he brought me to in New York. The edge between keeping myself safe and falling back into the familiar pattern of abandonment.

The more I learn about Ari, the more I realize he wouldn’t leave out of cruelty. But he would leave. Ari’s not the kind of man to fall in love. And even if he were, I don’t think I’d be able to accept it. Wouldn’t be able to live without fear hovering over me.

It doesn’t matter, I tell myself as my eyes flutter closed. It doesn’t matter.

Ari

She’s beautiful in sleep. Spread out on her stomach across the bed, her face turned toward me. Her lashes lay dark against her skin, although the rest of her face is pale compared to the bruised half-moons beneath her eyes. She tossed and turned most of the night.

I turn away and move quietly into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Between our adventure yesterday and the rough night, we’re both going to need it.

Her whimpers woke me, the soft, frightened cry of a broken child. When I went to her, when she heard my voice and turned to me, she rocked me to my core.

I’ve never once let a woman get that close. Losing my mother the way I did, sinking deeper into apathy and using it as a shield against my father, left me with the notion that I would never be capable of loving someone again. It was easier that way, the concept furthered when I discovered the depths of my father’s mistakes. Instead of hurting, it made me angry. Anger is empowering. Grief weakens, brings you to your knees.

I’ve told myself so many times over the past three months that I responded to Diana the way I did in New York because I had started to crack the seal I’d kept over my heart for so many years. And perhaps it did make me more susceptible to the jolt of emotion I felt when I looked at her. But I know now, as I watch her sleep, her body rising and falling with soft, even breaths, that not just any other woman would have caused that reaction. It’s her. Diana.

And after what she shared last night, that feeling is stronger. My admiration for Diana, the fortitude she showed at seventeen when she chose protecting an innocent over her own life, has deepened. I will do everything in my power to make sure the monster that marked her never sees the light outside prison again.

Her revelation heightened my envy of my brother, too. Envy, though, not jealousy. I always thought of one being the same as the other. But last night, for the first time since Liam and Diana walked into that restaurant, I wasn’t jealous of their relationship. I was grateful for it. Liam had saved Diana’s life. Saved Lucy. The bond that was created between Liam, Diana, and their friend, Aislinn, is something I don’t fully understand, but I recognize it’s real.

But one glaring fact continues to needle me. Not once did Diana say anything that indicated any romantic feelings for Liam. That, coupled with her dodging my questions at the gala, reinforced what she’d been saying from the beginning: she and Liam had not been romantically involved until he proposed. Was Liam the one in love with her? Did she say yes out of obligation, because he saved her life all those years ago?

More questions. Always more questions.

Her eyes flutter open. She sees me. The slight smile that curves across her face, warm and sleepy, has me curling my hands into fists at my sides so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch her.

She blinks. Realization hits her. She sits upright, one arm holding the sheet to her chest. A blush creeps up her throat and over the line of her jaw. I know she’s embarrassed—that I made her feel that way last night.

I want to tell her how bad I wanted her, how all I could think about was touching her, tasting her, claiming her. But I couldn’t do that. Not when she was in such a state of heightened emotion. When we come together again, it won’t be because we’re driven by grief and memories of the past. It will be because she wants me.

“We should be safe to drive back to Reykjavik,” I say.

“Okay,” she replies.

“Xenakis texted me this morning.”

The apprehension disappears from her face, replaced by curiosity.

“Oh?”

“He wants to meet as soon as we’re back. Alone, just the two of us.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

She’s looking at me with a mixture of cool professionalism and quiet understanding. Letting me know with one glance that she’ll support my decision to walk away.

“Yes. Either it’ll get us back on track or I’ll leave knowing I need to look elsewhere.”

She throws back the sheet and gets to her feet. Even in gray fleece pants and black shirt, she’s stunning. I watch her carefully, relieved when I don’t see any sluggishness or stiffness to her movements.

“I want you, Malla, and the rest of our team to meet with Xenakis’s. He’s approved it. Find out what feedback they’ve received, if any. Start addressing those concerns. I’ll text or call you as I get more details from Xenakis.”

She nods as she moves over to the bag the concierge brought up last night with our freshly laundered clothes.

“The box underneath is for you, too.”

She stills, frowning at me before setting the bag on the floor and opening the lid of the box. She stares down at the simple black flats nestled in tissue paper.

“You bought me shoes.”

“You lost yours.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. One hand comes up, her fingers tracing over the smooth leather.

“Thank you.”

Her voice is quiet. But the gratitude in those two simple words, the underlying shock, punches straight through me.

I turned away last night when I saw the invitation in her eyes. I wasn’t going to take her in the aftermath of a nightmare, of reliving the most horrible moment of her life. But things have changed. Since the beach, since her confession.

I walk toward her. She straightens quickly, squares her shoulders as she turns to face me. Strong. Stubborn, I think as her chin comes up. Fear in her eyes, but she stands her ground.

“We have to deal with Xenakis first.”

Confusion clouds her gaze. “Yes.”

“And then,” I add softly as I stop a foot away, “we’ll deal with us.”

She blanches. “There is no us.”

“There was.”

And there could be again.

She’s not ready to hear that part yet. There’s still plenty for both of us to consider before taking that step. Plenty to deal with, like Liam and just what the dynamic is between him and Diana.

But I’m done pretending.

“I thought we could push past what happened between us.” I lean down, just an inch, but enough to inhale the scent of her. “But we both know that’s impossible.”

The fear flares. If that were the only emotion in her eyes, I would walk away. I’m not my father.

But I see the longing. The desire. The small shudder that races through her body, the goose bumps on her flesh despite the warmth of the room.

“Soon, Diana.”

I don’t give her a chance to reply as I turn away. I want to push more, kiss her until she’s breathless and soft against me.

Just a little longer, I tell myself as I open the door.

“I’ll get the car warmed up.”

And then I close the door on temptation.