Page 63 of Controlled

I had no way of knowing if what he’d told me about the murder of his mother was true. However, if he believed that, the trauma of losing his mother at a young age, and to someone he was supposed to be able to trust, could have easily turned him into the monster he’d become.

Or that I believed him to be.

“My two brothers are better than I am, at least for the most part.” He’d forgone the champagne, drinking scotch instead. He released his hold, easing against his chair. He was more casual than before, completely comfortable in the opulent surroundings and at this moment in his own skin. But I also sensed he was like a caged animal, and if provoked would erupt from his cage, using his sharp canines. “But they still see good in the world. I am curious. How was your mother when you were a young girl?”

I laughed, trying to shove aside the pain from the memories. I shifted my attention toward the singer, the beautiful woman crooning out some glorious blues piece. All the hatred I’d felt toward the man for what he’d done and what I’d believed he’d been capable of seemed to fade, replaced with a strange longing to be in his arms as confounding as finding myself enjoying his company.

“It’s funny,” I started as I aimlessly rolled my finger around the thin lip of the gilded crystal stem. “When I was three or four, I thought she was a real princess. She was always so beautiful, always smiling for the cameras. She seemed happy and there were so many who adored her. I wanted to go with her everywhere, and at first, it was like I was her little angel.”

I noticed he was watching me intently, allowing me space to tell my sad little tale of woe. I’d barely talked about my childhood days with anyone, including Jonas. It had seemed pointless since I was now a fully grown adult, but at this moment I realized the ache remained.

“But soon enough, she didn’t seem to want me around any longer. For a little while, I had a nanny of sorts, a nice older lady who treated me well but as the roles started to go to younger actresses, the money drying up, I became the latch key kid. But I will never forget wanting to be exactly like her, dressing like her, becoming an actress. There was this one time I dared go into her closet. I found what I thought was the most beautiful dress in the world. It’s funny. The beautiful creation I have on reminds me of it. Same color, velvet fabric. I hadn’t known it at the time, but it was one she’d worn to the single time she was nominated for an Oscar.”

I felt bashful all of a sudden, uneasy about letting him into the darkest part of my life. Or what I’d thought had been. When he reached over, taking my hand into his, I didn’t try to pull it away. I wasn’t certain why, other than the look in his eyes was one of full understanding.

“Did anyone try and find out who your father was?”

“Often but my mother shut it down immediately, teasing that the man was a prince of a fabulous little country.”

“Creative.”

“A lie. Anyway. I tried to put on makeup but as any seven-year-old kid would do, I made a mess, including ruining the dress. I’d been so excited to show her that I was her little shadow, giggling when I woke her up from a deep sleep. Later I learned she’d been drunk, which is what made her so violently angry. I just…” The ugliness of the memory pulled at every emotion and a single unwanted tear managed to slide down my cheek before I realized it.

Sniffing, that’s when I tried to pull my hand from his, my other gripping the champagne with so much pressure I was worried I’d crush it between my fingers.

Up until now, I’d only thought of him as a man incapable of caring about anyone but maybe himself, a blackened soul with no humanity. And I knew he could be a damn good actor but when he brushed the tear from my cheek, there was a split second when I was able to see something more than just a monster.

We were more connected than I’d wanted to believe.

By our families who’d warped our sense of love.

By our lives subsequently shaped by what we’d been through.

By the sadness that never left but had been forced to morph into something else altogether.

“You are so beautiful, my perfect dancer. You deserve only the finer things in life, not suffering the anger of a woman pained by her past.”

I laughed bitterly instead of breaking down into sobs, something I hadn’t allowed myself to do for years. “Well, my mother certainly didn’t think so. I’d never seen her so angry. When I look back on it now, I realize she’d been plagued with demons but for a seven-year-old girl who’d looked up to her mother, she lost what was left of her innocence on that day. I’d never cried so much, begging my mother for forgiveness. You know? I never got it. After all the time spent trying to take care of her when the money ran out. Through her drug and alcohol events, fighting the men who tried to take advantage of her, and me as well, she never once said thank you or that she loved me.”

I sensed a change in his demeanor, the darkness taking over what little light he’d exuded all over again. Even his eyes seemed to change color in the flickering light of the candle, now so black and he appeared like the devil himself.

“She doesn’t deserve you.” His voice was also almost completely unrecognizable, his chest heaving from labored breathing. I could sense the evil man who hungered for more than just control threatening to give permission to his beast to erupt from his lair.

As if by instinct, I took his hand into mine, pulling the rough pads of his fingers against my cheek. “No, Creed. I learned something very important over the last few years that allowed all the hatred and anger I’d felt for my mother to disappear. And do you want to know how that was possible?”

He said nothing but lifted his head slightly, his nostrils flaring.

“It took me time but when I realized that whatever she’d gone through in her life before and during the time we were together was something she didn’t know how to deal with other than turning to alcohol and drugs. I don’t know why the man she’d obviously fallen head over heels in love with abandoned her and his baby, but that was far too devastating for her psyche to handle. Maybe you can’t understand that, but I could see it in her eyes. I could feel it every time she looked at a picture of a couple so happy together or even a television show depicting two people in love. She couldn’t fake it any longer on the big screen and I’d heard her more times than I could count bawling her eyes out when she thought I was asleep. Love is a wonderful thing when both people feel the same, longing for nothing more than sun-kissed days of being together, nights of passion sharing their intimacy. But when only one person is involved, the heartache can be devastating.”

“I do understand, Bella. However, what few memories I have regarding my mother were pleasant ones. She was a bright star much like you, her life snuffed out far too soon. I am curious. Did your mother ever mention who your father was?” He poured me the rest of the champagne, taking a strawberry from the dessert we’d shared and gently plopping it inside.

The gesture was another sweet thing that I hadn’t expected. It also made me smile. I took a sip, laughing from the way the bubbles tickled my nose and he was watching every nuance, his brow furrowed as if trying as hard to figure me out as I’d been with him. “No. I asked her many times when I was young until she finally had one of what I called her attacks, forbidding me to talk about him at all. But up to that point she’d told me that he was a horrible criminal and we were better off without him.”

“Really. You don’t know where they met?”

“No. Nothing. I used to find it odd she acted as if she hated him but slept with a picture under her pillow.”

“Did you ever see it?”

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