Page 9 of Recaptured by the Crime Lord

“No! I’ll never trust you or believe a word you say. I should have died that day with Manny.”

Gavin jerked her chin up. “Don’t say that.”

She shoved at him and got nowhere. “What do you want from me?”

“We can make it, Lyla.”

“I don’t want to make it with you. You broke me!”

Gavin lifted her into his arms and hissed when she bit his shoulder. When he set her down in the bathroom, she tasted blood. It shocked her so much that she didn’t react when he began to undress her. It wasn’t until her chest was bare and his hands stopped that she realized he was staring at her scarred abdomen. She whirled away and crossed her arms over her chest. Her body was covered in white, raised scars and long gashes that made her look like Frankenstein. Even Carmen winced when she caught a glimpse of Lyla’s disfigured body. Lyla hadn’t looked at herself in a mirror since the incident.

She couldn’t stand the silence behind her. Of course Gavin knew about her wounds, but seeing them was a different story. His body was a work of art, unblemished and powerful. Hers looked as battered as she felt. She would never be able to wear a dress or V-neck shirt without horrifying people. Her body was a walking testament to the evil that walked this earth.

“Get out,” she whispered.

“Lyla—”

“Getout, Gavin!”

He hesitated before he walked out of the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. Lyla stripped off what was left of her clothes and sank into the hot bath Gavin prepared for her. When the wounds were fresh, the smallest droplet of hot water made her feel as if she was being stabbed again. Even now, she moved cautiously as the hot water touched her scars, but there was no pain. The sweet aroma of the bath salts and the size of the luxurious tub felt wrong after being on the road for so long. She stiffened when the door opened again.

“Clothes,” Gavin said and set something on the vanity before he left again.

Lyla dropped her forehead on her knees. Their talk wasn’t over, not by a long shot and she felt so incredibly weary. The tumult of events in the past few hours made her feel as if she aged ten years. Lyla turned her back to the mirror as she dressed in the nightgown Gavin produced. It was cut low enough to show the beginning of the ragged scar between her breasts and the wound centimeters from her heart that should have killed her. She fussed with the nightgown before she brushed her hair. She wondered if there was a way to avoid Gavin and then scoffed. He refused to be left behind or ignored.

Lyla walked into the bedroom and found Gavin sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. He wore sweat pants and nothing else. She wished he would wear a shirt and realized she should be grateful he was wearing something. His eyes moved over her and then focused on her chest. Did her scars disgust him? Why the fuck did she care?

“I’m tired,” she said.

Gavin’s eyes flicked up to hers.

“I’ll take one of the guest bedrooms.” She started for the door and was brought up short when he stepped in front of her.

“You sleep here.”

“You’re going to sleep somewhere else?” she asked pointedly.

“No.”

“I’m not sleeping with you, Gavin.”

“We’re married.”

“Don’t youdarethrow that in my face!” Lyla exploded, stomping her feet and waving her hands wildly. “We’re as married as your father is alive.”

Gavin rocked back as if she shoved him. “It’s legal, Lyla.”

“I’m not married until I feel married.”

“We can rectify that.”

Lyla pointed her finger in his face. “Don’t, Gavin.”

“I’m not going to force you to have sex with me. I just need to be near you.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

He stared at her, a mixture of exasperation and anger on his face. “I need to know you’re with me.” When she said nothing, his hands fisted at his sides. “I haven’t had a decent night of sleep since Dad died. I need to hear you breathing. I need to touch you. Not sexually, if that’s what you want.”

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