Page 38 of Twisted Truths

Embarrassment makes my face flush. The idea of explaining it to him has me shaking my head.

His gaze roams my face, and there’s no judgment, only genuine concern. “Are you sure? It might make you feel better. Maybe I can help.”

My lips press together, and tears gather in my eyes again, but I do tell him. Because the truth is that this is the first time I’ve felt safe and protected in a long time. I love my father, but I never had that feeling growing up. He was always dragging us into trouble, not rescuing us from it.

By the time I’m done explaining what happened, Obsidian’s face is a mask of cold fury, though I know instinctively it’s not directed at me. He just stares at me, unblinking.

“Say something,” I whisper.

He blinks, coming out of whatever trance he’s in. “I’m resisting the urge to bolt from this room, track him down, and show him what it’s like when someone puts their hands on you when you don’t want them to.” In juxtaposition to his words, he runs his knuckles lightly down my cheek.

A part of me would take great satisfaction in letting him do just that. But I don’t want any more attention on what happened than what Obsidian’s already giving me, so I shake my head.

“You can’t do that. You’d get in trouble, and then everyone would know what happened.” I turn my head to look away from him.

“Don’t worry about me getting into trouble, Ariana.” Obsidian gently uses his thumb and forefinger to turn my head back in his direction. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel about what happened, but you shouldn’t feel shame. Do you want to report it to the authorities?”

I look at him, horrified. “Absolutely not. It would just be my word against his. And I don’t know… maybe it’s partly my fau?—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growls. “That’s bullshit. I don’t care how tempting you look tonight, how much you smiled at him, or how good the conversation was. The minute you told him to back off, he should have. End of. Don’t you dare take on any responsibility because he felt entitled to help himself to something that wasn’t his to take. Understand?”

“Okay, I know you’re right, it’s just…”

“I get it. But you did nothing wrong, okay?” He tilts his head so our eyes meet.

“Okay.”

The tension in his body dissipates. “Why don’t you go take your makeup off and get changed? Have a shower if you like.”

The idea of a shower sounds divine. “Good idea.”

He helps me off his lap, and I stand awkwardly.

“Thanks for…” I want to say thanks for being so gentle and kind and sweet, but I stop myself. “Getting me out of there so quickly.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Of course.”

I turn to walk away.

“Ariana,” he calls, and I circle back around. “If you want to talk to someone, a professional, about what happened, I can arrange that.”

“Have a therapist on speed dial, do you?” I smirk, knowing there’s no chance this man is regularly baring his soul on some doctor’s couch.

“What do you think?” he says wryly. “No, but I can make it happen if you think it would help you.”

I give him a small smile. “I appreciate the offer, and I’ll let you know.”

He nods reluctantly, and I continue to my bedroom.

After a long hot shower, I emerge from the bedroom back into the main part of the suite. I asked Marcel to get me some proper pajamas before the trip so that I wouldn’t be sleeping in a T-shirt and panties like the time I ran into Obsidian in the garden.

A movie is cued up on the TV, and on the coffee table in front of the couch is a tray of delicious looking apple crullers.

“Where did these come from?” I sit on the couch, looking at Obsidian where he sits in the chair off to the side.

“I made a call while you were showering.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“But how did you know I wanted to try these?” I pick up one and take a big bite, moaning when the sweetness hits my tongue.

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