Page 53 of Hidden Heir With His Housekeeper

The panic blocked his throat again as she cradled his cheek.

‘I think you’d better tell me the rest of it, Mason,’ she said softly.

He nodded, knowing she was right. It hurt like hell to know that once he told her all the things he’d done she wouldn’t love him any more. But what would hurt more was continuing to manipulate her, continuing to play on her innocence and tenderness for his own ends.

He lifted his head, walked back to the window and looked down at the docks where he’d once worked for villains and dreamed about getting away. Getting out.

Funny to think he’d always remained trapped there without even realising it. The instincts he’d always been so proud of, for self-preservation and self-denial, born of being that boy who would do anything to escape.

‘I told you my old man was a bastard,’ he said slowly, carefully. ‘That he used me. But the truth is, he was just a stupid loser with an addiction he couldn’t control. He’d bet on anything—the greyhounds, the horses, on whether West Ham would score in the second minute or the tenth. And because of that, we were always dead broke.’

That life seemed so far away now—being scared in the winter to turn on the heating, eating cereal for tea because there was nothing else in the house, and being the smelly kid in school because you didn’t have the pennies for the laundrette. But, in so many ways, that life had always remained inside him. Because he’d never really shaken off the fear of being a failure like his old man.

And wasn’t that why he’d worked so hard to get out? Not to be rich, but to be safe.

Her footsteps padded across the carpet, then her cheek rested on his back. He shuddered, the soft touch both reassuring and terrifying. Because he wanted it so much, he needed it, and he wasn’t sure he could survive losing it.

‘Mason, it’s okay. Breathe,’ she murmured, but his legs had turned to jelly, the emotion like a tidal wave, threatening to knock him off his feet.

He braced his legs to stay upright as the memories swirled, no longer tethered in the deep recesses of his mind but choking him with guilt and remorse.

The memory of sitting on the wall outside the basement hovel where he had once lived, each day after school, for weeks and weeks, waiting for his mum to come back, shimmered on the edges of his consciousness, damning him even more. But worse was the memory of his old man’s face—tired, worn, terrified—years later, the last time he’d seen him.

‘Eventually, he owed money to loan sharks. Alotof money. And the only way we could pay off the debts was for me to run errands for them.’ He forced himself to draw in another painful breath and let it out, her presence at his back the only thing anchoring him to the here and now. ‘I did it for a while. I even enjoyed it at first, because they’d give me tips.’ He shrugged. ‘But then, eventually, I didn’t want to do it any more. I was older, smarter. I saw what they did—the people they beat up for nothing, the women they exploited. I was scared of them, and terrified I’d get caught eventually and be stuck in that life for ever. So I told my dad I was leaving.’ He stared down at his feet, the polished leather of his designer brogues reflecting his own face back at him. But all he could see in that moment was his old man begging. ‘And I never looked back.’

Bea reached around his waist to hold him, her heart shattering as she tried to soothe the shivers she could feel racing through him. She heard the shame in his voice.

‘And you blame yourself for that?’ she asked softly.

Was this the root? The reason why he had been so determined to hold a part of himself back? Because he had been scared to trust her with his demons?

She’d assumed this was all about her. That she hadn’t been strong enough, smart enough, brave enough to demand what she needed from him. That because she’d fallen in love with him, she had been too scared to press the point in case he rejected her.

And there was some truth in that...

But, deep down, she could see now that this wasn’t just about her confidence, it was also about his. They had both been broken by things outside their control and plunged into an emotional storm neither of them had had the tools to negotiate without making mistakes.

‘Yeah, I do,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘They were pretty specific. They told me if I didn’t do what they said they’d kill him. So I did what they said. Even though I knew it was wrong.’

He heaved out a breath, his shoulders shaking, his voice a monotone as he continued.

‘But when I was fourteen, I’d had enough. I didn’t care what happened to him any more.’ He turned, the look in his eyes so bleak, she shuddered. ‘He begged me not to go, and I left anyway. And I never saw him again after that. I doubt what they did to him was pretty,’ he finished. ‘How can you lovethatman? A man who would do that to his own flesh and blood to save himself. Why would you want to have a person like that around your baby?’

‘Because he wasn’t a man, he was a child, Mason,’ she said softly, wanting him to see what she saw when she looked at him.

But he simply shook his head. ‘I was old enough.’

She saw the hopelessness in his expression and realised she was seeing a window into his past, a glimpse of the boy inside the man. And the impossible challenges he’d faced. The struggles he’d overcome. The terrible price he’d paid for that. Alone and resentful and desperate to find a way out—just as she had been when she’d first met him.

He’d given her a way out, however inadvertently—by challenging her to see who she had allowed herself to become.

She’d discovered in Italy that she could grow and change—by standing up for herself. But she’d never stopped blaming herself for her past cowardice, or she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him without accepting he had some terrible insecurities too.

‘So now you know,’ he said, dropping his head. He rubbed his thumb over the bird in flight etched on the back of his hand. ‘I’m a fraud. I built an empire on the back of that betrayal.’ His head lifted, the naked honesty in his eyes raw with vulnerability. ‘In my defence, the things I did, and the lies I told you to get you to want me, to get you to stay, are nothing compared to the lies I’ve told myself over the years.’

Her heart broke at the self-loathing in his voice. But, after the pieces had shattered in her chest, she felt the sure, steady beat of her love—and knew it was strong enough and wise enough to see his flaws, as well as her own, and to accept them.

She cupped his cheek, the joy in her chest immense when he leaned into the caress instinctively.

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