Page 23 of Reckless Love

My grandparents had faced real life, catastrophic events that made their anxiety make sense. I’d been thirteen and humiliated when I had one of my attacks when Papa’s investor started teasing me about how pretty I was, saying if I was a few years older, he would set me up with his son.

It was innocent, but I hated the attention. I wanted to disappear into the background, and I tumbled into a panic attack whenever someone shone a spotlight in my direction.

“After that, I told myself I’d learn how to handle it. And I did.” Mostly.

“What do you mean handle it, baby?” Wick asked, his voice low and rumbly.

I shrugged again. “I learned how to pretend so I didn’t embarrass them in front of their friends. In my head, I created two kinds of personalities. When I was Sia, I could hide in my room and fall apart. But when I was out in public, I was Alessia. And Alessia could be poised and polite and… perfect.”

“Fuck,” Wick muttered. “And your grandparents let you believe that shit?”

I glared at him. “My grandparents were my world.”

He winced. “I get that, baby, but… Do you hear what you’re saying? You had to create a perfect personality to make them happy?”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t to make them happy. It was so I could go to events and not be a basket case. And, yes, I realize I sound like a freak?—”

“Creating a mental space to protect yourself doesn’t make you a freak,” he cut me off vehemently. “I’m not saying that what you did was wrong, but it was wrong that your grandparents didn’t see you going through mental gymnastics to fit into their world.”

“You don’t understand.” I tried to push away and get up, but his hands gripped my waist and held me still. “Let go.”

“Why?” he challenged. “So you can go hide in your room and try to ignore the fact that you’re human? That you have feelings?”

“My grandparents gave up their lives to raise me,” I snapped. “They never once made me feel like a burden, and I didn’t want to complicate their lives.”

“So you hid everything,” Wick finished for me. “You shoved down your own emotions, probably compartmentalizing all of your own worries and fears to make it seem like you were fine.”

“People die every day of hunger. From wars and disease.” I bit my lower lip. “Falling apart because I can’t handle a compliment, or get embarrassed by someone, seems so stupid in comparison.”

“Fucking hell, baby.” Wick’s jaw clenched. “Yes, bad shit happens to people every day and it sucks, but that doesn’t minimalize your own emotions. And it sure as fuck doesn’t give men like Covington free reign to harass you.”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

Wick’s hand cradled my jaw, lifting my gaze to meet his. “He made you uncomfortable. He intimidated you. And if that wasn’t enough? He put his fucking hands on you.”

The ferocity in my husband’s eyes made my breath catch. He wasn’t just angry, he was livid.

For me.

“But I’m okay.” The compulsion to smooth things over was second-nature. But for the first time in a long time, I realized it wasn’t my job to make things okay or to make excuses for men like Kirkland Covington.

“I’m not,” Wick retorted. “And I’ll be damned if Covington is okay after tonight, too.”

“Meaning what?” My eyes rounded.

My husband eyed me, a muscle fluttering in his jaw.

“What did you do?” I demanded.

His lips twisted into a smug smile. “What I should’ve done when I found out you intended to keep working while we were married. I bought the company and fired your boss. Problem solved, baby.”

Ten

“You did what?” I demanded, utterly stunned as I stared into Wick’s dark eyes.

He didn’t even blink. “I bought the company you work for and sacked your piece of shit boss.”

Holy crap. Holy crap.

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