Page 90 of Code of Heart
“You said most of them didn’t last long…” His voice was low, gentle, even though everything in him wanted to roar. “What about the ones who did?”
Another jolt of tension snapped through her, locking every muscle in place. Her wide, pleading eyes silently begged him not to make her answer.
He held her gaze, his fingers reaching out slowly, giving her the choice to take his hand or pull away.
“You don’t have to say much,” he promised softly. “Just…help me understand.”
Before she could respond, their server reappeared with their first course, oblivious to the razor’s edge they both balanced on. Plates were placed before them, and explanations about the process were offered. Steam curled from the fondue pots as the scents of melted cheese and seasoned broth filled the air.
As soon as they were alone again, Levi forced himself to move, to do something other than hunt down every single one of these exes that contributed to her agony. He speared a few vegetables and chunks of meat, dropping them into the simmering broth. When he looked up again, she hadn’t touched a thing.
And then, in a voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear her, she spoke.
“The only one who stayed longer…” She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed somewhere far away. “…gave me more attention than anyone ever had before.”
She dragged her hands into her lap, her fingers knotting together as she forced the words out.
“But his attention was…different.” Her lips trembled. “It depended on his mood, or if something set him off that day. Sometimes it came from his fists. Other days, his legs would kick me down. And if he was really feeling lazy…” she closed her eyes, the words barely a breath, “…he let the stairs handle it for him.”
Levi’s vision went red. His mind blanked out in a wash of blinding rage, and for one horrifying second, he saw exactly how easy it would be to kill a man with his bare hands.
But Aurelia wasn’t done.
“It took me a long time to get out. It took longer to feel safe enough to file for a restraining order. And I…” Her voice cracked. “I can’t talk about it more than that. Not yet.”
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the table.
Levi couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe past the sheer violence pounding through his veins. But he forced his voice to steady and reached for her trembling hand.
“Thank you…for trusting me with that.” He swallowed down the fury burning his throat and offered her the faintest, most reassuring smile he could muster. “Now it’s my turn to show you some of my scars.”
Because if there was anything she deserved, it was knowing that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Aurelia
It took every ounce of willpower for Aurelia to slow her racing heart, to breathe past the tightness in her chest threatening to steal her composure. But somehow—somehow, Levi’s hand, warm and steady over hers, anchored her. His touch wasn’t demanding or expectant. It was simply there…again offering quiet strength when she had none left.
And when he finally began to speak, his voice was low and unhurried; it felt like the tension in the air shifted.
He began to tell her about his relationships, which were more like a series of betrayals and disappointments that seemed so at odds with the confident, charming man sitting across from her. So far, it had been a couple of stories about women who’d fallen for his lifestyle but never truly seen him, who had chased the fantasy of his wealth while offering nothing real in return.
As he talked, he reached over to the fondue pot, pulling out several pieces of pork.
Aurelia’s eyes immediately widened in horror. “Those haven’t been in there long enough to cook! You’re going to get sick!”
Levi shot her a roguish grin, entirely unconcerned. “They’re small,” he said with ridiculous certainty, popping one into his mouth like it was candy. “They don’t need that long to cook.”
“Oh my god!” she gasped, in half horror and half disgust.
He swallowed with a dramatic groan of satisfaction and reached for more. “I’m starving, Auri. At this point, I’m perfectly willing to take my chances.”
Aurelia shook her head incredulously, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward despite herself. Only this man could follow up the heaviest conversation of her life by attempting to win a Darwin Award at the dinner table.
“If you end up in the ER with food poisoning, I’m going to say ‘I told you so’ while you’re hooked up to an IV, Porky,” she warned, crossing her arms.
His fork froze midair as he gawked. “Did you just call me, Porky?”
“Yes, because you deserve a terrible nickname after making such a terrible decision!”
