Page 54 of Hunted

“Who said there was anything wrong with you?” She was going to get plastered if she kept it up. Her gaze seemed fixated on the dancing firelight, so he took the bottle and set it on the floor beside the sofa, out of her sight.

“Is there?”

He swallowed hard. She hadn’t touched her food. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

She met his eyes. She wasn’t drunk. If she was, he wouldn’t be able to see the hurt in them.

“You lie,” she said. “There are lots of things wrong with me. The SVT for starters. And then there’s the fact that I can never have children. I don’t suppose your background checks on me turned up that little tidbit, did they?”

Connor flinched when she said it.

She shook her head, heaved a long sigh. “This isn’t working. I can’t relax and pretend things are fine. My brain just isn’t buying it.” She closed her eyes. “Hand me that stupid book, and then please leave me alone while I read it.”

He pursed his lips and finally nodded. He was only just beginning to realize how much she dreaded reading her father’s diary. Maybe she sensed something. Maybe … somewhere deep inside her, it was something she’d known for a long time but hadn’t acknowledged. Now she’d be forced to see the truth, ready or not.

He should have been a little more understanding.

“Okay.” He took the book from the mantel, carried it to the sofa, set it down beside her. She didn’t even look at it. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

“I’ve always been okay alone, Romano.”

She’d said to leave her alone. He didn’t. Not really. He left for a few minutes, long enough to eat a plateful of food and pour a glass of water, though he was dying to sample that wine internally. When he finished, he went very quietly into the big foyer, where the stairs landed. He sat down on the bottom step, his water in his hands, and he watched her.

She read, oblivious to his presence. Her hands trembled a little, then a little more. Blinking as if dazed, she laid the book down, staring straight ahead. What she was seeing, though, wasn’t in the living room with her. It was in her mind. And whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant. Not with those tears springing into her eyes. Not with her lower lip quivering that way.

Squeezing her eyes tight, drawing a deep breath, she seemed to gird herself. Then she looked at the pages again, and she read some more.

It was killing him not to go in there. At first, his eagerness had been based on his hope that there would be references to the formula in the diary. But that concern had faded. Now all he wanted to know was what that book could hold that would hurt Lexi like this. Because it was hurting her. Pain etched itself more deeply into her eyes with every page she turned. Romano knew pain. He knew it too well not to see it cutting her heart to ribbons.

It was an hour before she stopped reading. She looked shell-shocked when she closed the cover, laid her father’s diary on the table and got to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but he was there before she could fall. He grabbed her shoulders, and gazed down at her face. He wanted to hold her. Lord, how he wanted to hold her.

“Let go.”

Two words. A harsh whisper wrapped in hurt and anger. He didn’t let go. He pulled her to his chest and slid his arms around her. He stroked her hair, wishing he could snap the band that held it captive. “What is it? What did he write that hurt you this bad?”

With anger that surprised him, she pulled free. Her eyes were tear glazed and distant when they met his.

“You don’t care. Why are you asking when you know you don’t care?”

Romano gave his head a shake. She bent over the coffee table, and when she straightened, she held the diary out to him. “Here. Take it. It’s what you came for. It’s why you stayed. Take it and read it. Maybe your precious answers are in there. I don’t know. I couldn’t … didn’t finish it.”

“Lexi …”

She pressed the book into his hands and turned away, her ponytail snapping with the motion. Romano threw the diary onto the floor. “I don’t give a damn about the book right now.” He touched her shoulder, and she stopped walking away from him but didn’t turn around. “Come on, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, maybe I can help.”

“I don’t need your kind of help. Just …” She drew a breath, tears shuddering on its surface like dew on a windblown leaf. “Just leave me alone.”

She walked up the stairs. He heard the bedroom door close, and that was all.

“Damn.”

His gaze was drawn downward, to the diary on the floor. He could go upstairs after her, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t tell him a thing. Or, he could leave her alone as she’d asked and read the book for himself.

He squatted on his haunches and picked it up.

Lexi lay face down on the bed, crying, heartbroken. He’d never loved her. Her father had never loved her.

No. Not her father. He hadn’t even been her father.

---