Page 98 of A Naked Beauty

“We had just gotten back together and I knew how you felt about staying out of the public eye. I told myself at first that I didn’t want to scare you off. But as more time passed, the truth is I just didn’t want you to know.”

I can tell she doesn’t like that answer. “What happened after the confrontation?”

“O’Malley went silent. After making me a habit for months, he abruptly stopped. Nothing on his blog. No contact. Made me nervous as hell. I couldn’t figure out his angle. Then Stiles discovered a call between Malcolm and O’Malley from the same day he came into the deli.”

“That explains his name on the invoice,” she says, assembling the pieces. “Do you know what they talked about?”

“I assumed O’Malley was looking for information on my mystery woman. Malcolm confirmed it. He knew by the way that O’Malley described my protective and proprietary reaction that it was you. That’s when he came up with a plan to somehow get O’Malley to back off so he could use the information himself.”

“He wants more money?”

“$10 million.”

Her jaw drops.

“I don’t give a damn about the money, Dee. What he wants is way more than that.”

“What else could he possibly want?”

A shudder of rage rocks through my frame. “Malcolm gladly confessed to knowing everything. He knew where you were the entire time. While Cayo and I were looking for you, he found you and watched you struggle. He knew you were pregnant. He knew later that you’d lost our…our baby. I could have been there. I should have been. But he kept us apart.”

“Oh, Mick.” She leans across to hug me again. “I can’t imagine what hearing that must have done to you. But it’s not your fault.”

She wants so badly for me to believe that. But I can’t. “He’s trying to keep us apart again.”

“How?”

“He threatened to expose the private, intimate details of your life…your past and childhood. He threatened to tell it all to O’Malley and make you look like a ruthless gold digger that wants me back because of my money. He threatened to ruin your reputation if I continue our relationship.”

“More emotional blackmail.” She releases me, her temper flaring. “The money is just sport to him. He’s using your feelings for me to squeeze you dry.”

“I’ll fix it, Dee.”

“Not this time,” she says firmly. “You have to stop trying to fix everything. You have to stop seeing me as someone you need to protect at all costs. I’m not fragile.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I don’t want you to do anything except promise we’ll be together.” My heart bleeds at the look of love on her face. I’d missed it so much. “Don’t let Malcolm keep us apart,” she pleads. “Come home to me.”

ChapterTwenty-One

Dee

It’s the middle of thenight when I awaken. My head’s a little muddled but my first clear thought is that Mick’s not beside me. I shove off the blankets and make my way down the darkened hall. It’s quiet, no sound or movement. The inside bolt on the front door is still in place and his shoes are still on the mat. I sigh with relief and search for him.

When the office proves futile, I find him in the living room. He’s asleep, lying face-up in his sweatpants. The throw blanket is draped over him, his head rests on a toss cushion, and his legs, too long for the length of the couch, hang partway off the arm.

I’d hoped that after our earlier talk and him coming home that he was ready to let me all the way in; ready to let us be in this together. We hadn’t talked about Malcolm again. He was emotionally exhausted, I could see that. And truthfully, I was just so happy to have him back that I didn’t push him.

After an excruciating week apart, we spent most of the evening and into the night having wild, jungle sex. In the bed, on the sofa, the floor, the shower, breaking only to have a late dinner before we resumed our marathon of untamed, animalistic fucking.

Now, finding him out here withers any optimism that we had turned the corner. Either he’d snuck out to the sofa because he’d hada nightmare or because he was afraid of having one. Either way, it’s a problem.

I refuse to go back to secrets, evasions, or being shut out. I refuse to be treated as if I’m made of glass. His nightmares and Malcolm are not for him to handle alone. Not anymore. That’s a talk we’ll be having first thing in the morning.

Letting him sleep, I gently brush a hand over his hair, adjust the blanket across his bare shoulder, and return to bed.

The next time I awaken, it’s with a jolt. My pulse races. I lie still for a moment, trying to gather my bearings. Trying to shake off the lingering sense that something is wrong. Then I hear it. The noise that must have woke me. I sit up. My ears, straining. A distinct whimper, followed by another. The sound of a wounded body and soul. Goosebumps sweep over my skin as I hear Mick cry out. “Stop,” he begs. “Please stop.”

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