Page 23 of Under His Embrace

“Am I sure that I’m single?” I huffed out an incredulous laugh. That follow-up question hit too close to the truth. His obvious doubt about my relationship status was eerily spot on.

“You have a burner phone with no contacts. No ID. No credit cards. Your purse held nothing of significance that could be tracked. I’m not out of line to guess that you’re hiding something, Chloe.”

My heart raced again. I felt the tension in my back as my shoulders slumped. It was instinct to curl forward, to want to protect myself from any incoming danger. He stood still, menacing with his hard glare, but he didn’t make a move to advance at me and wound me.

“Tell me the truth.” He furrowed his brow, as though the suspense of this conversation ate away at him. “I can’t help if I don’t know the truth.”

You can’t know it all.There was simply no way I could tell him about Caleb. Not now, not after so long.

“There…” I drew in a deep breath.Do it. Tell him. Just fucking get it off your chest.“There might be someone who doesn’t think I’m single.”

His expression remained hard and guarded, but he exhaled in such a way that suggested he’d been tense and holding his breath. “Go on.” Again, the command in his tone was unmistakable but not mean.

“My ex is a very determined man.”

He looked to the side of the room, narrowing his eyes with anger. I couldn’t tell if he was mad to hear that I had been with someone else or that I had an ex who wouldn’t give up on me. It had been ten years. Franco had moved on, too. He had to have. A man as strong and sexy as him couldn’t be celibate for a decade. And it was weird for him to assume I could’ve been stuck on him, on the past, and not attempt moving on as well.

“Keep talking.”

“My ex is a…” I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs, nervous to even mention Wes. He belonged in a carefully lockedup compartment in my mind, in my past. But we weren't. Not with his constant presence as he pursued me.

“He’s a prominent man whom my parents adore.”

He grunted a dark laugh. “Did they set you up with him?”

I shook my head, but I shrugged on the tail end of that gesture. “I don’t think so, but it’s possible. I met him after I’d left town, but they’re in the same circles.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did you meet him? When did you leave him?”

He wasn’t cruel or harsh with his demands for answers, but the act of talking about my never-ending nightmare dragged me down into the pit of hopelessness I had to pull myself out of—again. Closing my eyes and lowering my face into my hands, I took a moment to gather my wits and calm down enough to talk. I couldn’t explain a thing if I was crying.

When did I meet him? I wished I'd never met Wes. I rued the day we crossed paths at all.

When did I leave him? He made it sound like that effort was a one-time thing.

Tears stung behind my closed lids. Stuck in the darkness of my memories, I was transported to each and every time I tried to get away from Wes.

“Chloe.” His voice was softer and closer. I barely registered the sounds of his footsteps as he crossed the room. Only when his warm body pressed against my side did I realize that he sat next to me on the edge of the bed. His thigh pushed against mine and his arm wrapped around my back. Feeling his power, his muscled form holding me closer, I fought through the need to bawl.

He was right here, pulling me back to the present, and I wanted to cling to the security he offered.

“Talk to me. Please.”

I sniffled, lifting my face. Resolved to get this out, I nodded and wiped away the few tears that slipped out.

“I met him seven years ago. He came into the diner I was waitressing at while I tried to finish my courses, and he was interested right away.”

“Hewas interested while you weren’t?”

Caleb was only a baby then. I didn’t have time to date. “I wasn’t available to date anyone. Not him, not anyone, but he was persistent. We were only together the first time for several months, not even a year, but after I left him and moved, he found me again and tried to get back into my life. Rinse and repeat.”

“When you say seven years ago…” He narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean he’s been doing this all that time?”

I nodded, hating how weak I sounded to admit that I’d been running for that long. “He’s very possessive. And abusive. He only slapped me around a couple of times, but he’s mentally manipulative, a master of emotional abuse.”

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