Page 76 of Isle of Pain

NICO

HEALING AND SEX GO HAND IN HAND

“Drive me to your house, please,” Marie says once she’s seated on the passenger side of my car. But she says it like a question, and she says ‘your house’, not ‘our house’. All the resentment I’ve been bottling up bubbles to the surface and I grind my teeth not to lash out and let the disappointment and hurt I feel wash over her. She doesn’t need that shit and I’m good at ignoring my emotions.

I nod once and we drive in silence. The tension is palpable, but I don’t try to diffuse it this time.

“Nico…” Marie starts but I park in front of my house and leave the vehicle to open her door for her. Leading her home with a hand on her lower back because I can’t stand not to touch her, I’m reminded how I left the house in her absence when I push the door to reveal the living room. Exactly as she left it. The crochet needles are abandoned on the couch with black yarn, all the cabinets doors and drawers in the kitchen are still open. I’ve taken to sleeping on the floor of my workshop because I can’t stand to come home to silence, or on the floor of Ember’sbedroom at Andrea and Giulia’s. I don’t feel worthy of a bed for not helping Marie more.

She gulps audibly, her face stricken like she’s ashamed.

“I haven’t been inside in a while,” I tell her. I don’t say that it’s not her fault because my emotions are a mess and if she didn’t simply leave but talked to me, maybe I wouldn’t feel so out of control.

“Since the day I admitted myself at Nightingale?” she asks softly and I nod. “Oh, Nico. I’m so sorry. Please have a seat.”

I follow her command, a Pavlovian reflex. Once again, I look up at her as she remains standing, my favourite viewpoint. My heart does a somersault but I tamper it down, clasping my fists together until my knuckles turn white. She rummages in her black leather handbag while I simply observe her. She’s as breathtaking as ever in a long blue dress that accentuates her curves, paired with the black boots she loves.

We fit so well. How can she not see that?

“This is for you,” she says as she hands me a few sheets of paper. A first glance shows that she signed each page. My curiosity is picked. I should have read the title first. Even being seated doesn’t prevent my eyes from going wide with shock. I look up at her, a soft and shy smile graces her pretty face.

“What does this mean?”

She chuckles but it sounds wrong, like she’s nervous. “Well, I want you to be Ember’s father in truth.”

“I am,” I counter vehemently.

“Of course, you are, baby.” My stomach drops to my feet at the familiar nickname but hope has no place between us. This must be a sick joke. “You are her father, and if you sign this, you’ll be recognised as such in a court of law. No one will be able to take her from you, or tell you that you aren’t her dad. DeRossi made sure everything’s iron-clad.”

My eyes drop back down to the document resting on my knees. I read it once. Then again. Then a third time. Marie has signed this.

“Please say something,” Marie murmurs.

“But you left.”

“Baby, I never leftyou.” She drops to her knees in front of me, touching my thighs gently as if she’s scared I’ll reject her. With a hand under my chin, she raises my face to meet her gaze once more. “I’m so sorry I hurt you when I admitted myself into rehab. I needed to be strong for Ember. And for you. I had such a bad panic attack when you were in the Cotswolds. I knew I needed help.”

“Am I not enough?” I ask and it’s full of pain. I thought I was giving her what she needed. A sense of control and someone to talk to when she was feeling on the verge of drinking again. Everyone around me has been hurt because of my choices. First my father, then my mother. Giulia almost died because I couldn’t protect her. I almost died, too, though I’d rather it’d be me than her or Marie or anyone else I care about. But I can’t keep making decisions for the people I love on my own. I can’t be trusted.

“You are enough,” Marie says and gets up on her knees, crawling in between my legs and framing my face with her hand, urgency lacing her voice. “I needed a doctor’s help, a therapist, many in fact. All so that I could come back to you and Ember. Please, let me prove it to you. I’ll do anything to show you how much I love you and that everything I did was to be a better person to be at your side.”

Her forehead drops to mine. I breathe her in but she smells all wrong, chemical soap instead of the fresh lemon one I have in my bathroom that I’ve loved lathering on her skin. I need her here again, in my space. “I need you to make me bleed,” I tell her.

“Nico, I know how much I’ve already hurt you.”

I shake my head. “Replace it with the pain I love. With the one I need. Please, Miss Marie.” I hear what she says about needing help I couldn’t provide but there’s only one way for me to process pain and to absolve myself of my shortcomings. I need her to replace all this mental chatter that I can’t discern right and wrong from, with the cathartic lashes of the whip. She hesitates again so I beg some more. “I need it.”

She swallows hard, but nods.

“Get up, and strip,” she orders as she stands.

The energy between us shifts with those two words. I eagerly obey and undress when she commands it. Marie gasps when she sees the fresh scars. She glides her hand on my left forearm, turning it in all angles, then moving up to my shoulder with tears in her deep green eyes. I hate them. I never want to see her cry ever again. “What is this?” she asks with alarm.

“The shoulder is courtesy of one of Petrov’s men, and he’s dead. The arm… I used my blood to paint,” I tell her truthfully.

“What the fuck!” Her thunderous green eyes turn dark and she holds my chin almost painfully. “OnlyIam allowed to make you bleed, is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss Marie.” Arousal shoots up my spine and my cock bobs against my stomach at seeing her so irate. I’m hoping her anger will make the blows on my body harsher. The exhaustion after a session is what I crave as I imagine her whipping me until blood wells on my back.

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