Page 95 of Merciless Sinner

“Yeah,” I agree. But of course I’m thinking about that other secret I have to keep.

“We went to the museum this morning and spent the entire morning there. It was nice watching Olivia observing everything.” She chuckles. “It was all so fascinating to watch her fall in love again with things she already loved. Like you,” she points out.

Her words soothe me, and I dip my head.

“I'm not there yet, Eden,” I say, feeling the need to tell her that I still have more work to do. I know Olivia is attracted to me, and she’s starting to remember me, but she's not in love with me the way she used to be. The way I am with her.

“Give her time, Virgo. Just give her the time she needs. I'm almost certain she'll come back to you the way she was before, if not better.” She gives me a pat on my shoulder and leaves.

I wait for a few minutes to allow the ice pack to work.

Then I set it down in the little bowl she carried it in and make my way to the sunroom to find Olivia.

She's curled up on the large wicker sofa, reading a post-romantic art history book. When she lifts her head and finds me walking in, she has the same reaction as Eden. Except she looks more worried.

It's understandable, because it's the first time she's seen me looking like this.

“My god, what happened to you?” She gets up and rushes toward me.

“Don't worry.” I grin. “I was sort of sparring with Dante and the guys.” Better to put it like that and make it sound like we were just messing around. I also leave out Cillian's name. If I mention him, she'll probably guess that I was in a real fight.

“You look hurt, though,” she observes, studying my face.

“I'm not.”

I give her another smile and shrug out of my jacket, setting it on the arm of the sofa.

“Can I do anything for you?”

My smile widens. “This.” I sit and slip an arm around her tiny waist and pull her into my lap, then I pull her in for a kiss.

Her lips on mine are the only thing calming me.

I keep hearing Cillian's words in my head, telling meOlivia needs you.

Olivia touches my cheek and runs her delicate fingers over my beard. “You seem troubled,” she says in a soft reflective voice.

“I'm always like this.” I nod.

She continues touching my face, looking over my bruises. As she does, I wonder how the hell I'm going to tell her all the things I'm keeping from her. The news of my father is certainly one that could tear us apart.

What if it did? What would I do then?

I shove the thought out of my mind, not allowing it to take residence. It's better not to worry about things I can't control, or something that hasn't happened yet, especially when there is enough to worry about. I glance at the book she was reading. It's not one I've seen before, so I assume it's new.

“You got a new book,” I say, turning her attention back to the book.

“Yes, Eden and I went to the museum this morning. It's to go with the exhibition they're having on the post-romantic era. It's very fascinating. I'm going to go back next week to possibly book myself on a more in-depth tour. There's also an art historian there who's going to be running a tour at Harvard. I was thinking of going.”

I don't think anything could make me smile the way I am right now but this. She sounds exactly the way she did years ago, when she was herself.

“You're giving me that look again.” She giggles.

“Because you sound like you.”

“That's good. I'm feeling more comfortable reading these books now. They almost feel like coming home.”

I hold her tighter. “You are home. Do me a favor and book yourself on that tour. And definitely do the Harvard thing. You'll absolutely love it.”

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