Page 150 of A Very Merry Enemy
She reaches past me to close the window, shutting out the cold, then sinks onto the edge of her bed like her legs won’t hold her anymore.
The room smells exactly as I remember. Vanilla and clean laundry with a hint of her perfume. I glance around, and it’s like walking into a time capsule. She has the same purple comforter on her bed, the same posters on the walls, and the same desk in the corner where she used to do homework while I distracted her.
“He showed up for dinner,” she says, her voice low. “Just appeared in my parents’ kitchen like he belonged there. Charmed them. Ate my mom’s lasagna. Told stories about Paris. They have no idea who he really is.”
Rage builds in my chest, and it spreads through my veins like poison. “What did he say to you?”
“After dinner, we spoke privately on the porch.” She’s twisting her fingers together and won’t meet my eyes. “He tried to convince me to come back to Paris with him. Said he made mistakes, that he wanted to start over, that he’d give me everything I deserve. When I refused—” Her voicecracks. “He grabbed me and tried to pull me close to him, so I pushed him. He fell off the porch onto his ass.”
This makes me grin. “I’m proud of you.”
Proud because she stood up for herself, and that she’s stronger than he ever gave her credit. I can’t believe he had the audacity to put his hands on her like he had any right to touch her.
My voice comes out rougher than I intended. “He’s lucky that’s all you did. If I’d been there?—”
“Lucas.” She looks up at me, finally, and there are tears streaming down her face. “There’s more. Things I need to tell you. Things about my past with Dominic that you don’t know.”
The fear in her voice makes my stomach turn. I sit beside her on the bed, and the old springs creak under my weight. I take her hand in mine, and her fingers are ice cold. She’s trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I want you to know, no matter what you tell me, it changes nothing. I don’t care about your past.”
“I know. But I don’t want you to be blindsided if Dominic decides to retaliate against me.” She takes a shaky breath, then another, like she’s trying to gather her courage. “When Dominic and I were together in Paris, he liked to record us. Our intimate moments.”
The words come out rushed, like she needs to get them out before she loses her nerve.
“I consented to it at first because I trusted him. I thought it was just for us, something private. But now—” She stops, swallows hard. “Now, I’m not sure how many there are. Or if I even knew about all of them.”
My jaw tightens so hard, I hear my teeth grind together. I force myself to breathe through my nose, to stay calm, to let her finish. But inside, I’m already planning how to find Dominic Laurent and break every bone in his smug French body.
“And there was one night—” Her voice breaks completely,and she has to stop. She’s shaking now, her entire body trembling. I squeeze her hand, trying to calm her.
“Take your time,” I say, even though waiting is killing me.
She nods, wipes her eyes with her free hand, then tries again. “There was one night with his best friend. We fooled around, and apparently, Dominic recorded that, too, and…” She can’t continue, and I’m thankful because I don’t want to know.
White-hot anger explodes through my chest like a bomb detonating. My free hand clenches into a fist so tight that my nails press into my palm, hard enough to leave marks. I want to find Dominic Laurent and fuck him up.
But Holiday is sitting beside me, shaking and terrified and waiting for my reaction, so I force myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Again. Again. The rage doesn’t disappear, but I push it down and lock it away for later.
“Tonight, when I refused to return to Paris…” Her voice is barely a whisper now. “He threatened to release the videos. All of them. If I don’t stop seeing you, he’ll make them public. He’ll show everyone. My parents, the town, everyone in the culinary world. He will destroy my reputation and make me look like a whore. My parents will never look at me the same way. I’m so scared that you—” She chokes on a sob. “That you will walk away from me over this.”
I have to physically restrain myself from standing up, putting my fist through her wall, and getting in my truck and driving straight to the Merryville Inn to find that bastard. The thought of her with him and those videos being posted on the internet for everyone to look at makes me see red.
“Lucas.” Her voice is so small, so unlike the confident woman who pushed Dominic off the porch. “Say something. Please.”
I turn to face her, taking her other hand in mine so I’m holding both of them. “Look atme, Holiday.”
She does, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, shame, and fear.
“None of that changes anything,” I tell her. “Not one single thing.”
“But—”
“You were manipulated. You were taken advantage of by someone you trusted, someone who was supposed to care about you. That’s not your fault. That’s on him.” I cup her face in my hands, making sure she can’t look away, making sure she hears every word. “I don’t care about your past relationships at all, or the videos, or anything else Dominic is holding over your head. The only thing I care about is you. Right now. Do you understand me? None of it matters. Nothing he could ever say or do will change my mind about you. Ever.”
A tear spills down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb, then another, and another, until I’m just holding her face while she cries.
“You don’t think less of me?” Her voice breaks on every word. “You don’t think I’m ruined or?—”
