Page 70 of The Devil

“Why though? I never understood why,” she sighs. “Why did you come after me? Just…why?

“Because damn it, Helena, I love you!” I shout, only to then sigh through exasperation over my own temper. “I love you, mia topolina, and because you’re mine for always, you told me that once.”

My outburst freezes her, causing tears to fill her eyes before she spills them with a flutter of her lashes. I brush them away with my thumbs but remain silent to let her take in my words, to swallow and digest them. I owe her that much patience.

My broken girl slowly takes hold of my face and looks deep inside of me. She really studies me, trying to see if I really am saying what she’s been waiting so long to hear from me. People often say I have an intense look about me, but the way she is staring at me right now, is far more intimidating than anything I could ever deliver. My heart is pounding, and I feel like I’ve lost all breath from my body.

I only breathe again when she eventually gives me life by placing a gentle kiss on my lips. She then rests her forehead against mine, with her eyes still closed and her tears silently falling.

“I’ve waited fourteen years to hear you say that, Lucius,” she whimpers. “Please don’t hurt me again. I love you so much that if you ever left me again…” she says before having to stop so she can release a sigh to try and stop her voice from breaking. “If I lost you again, I don’t know what I’d do.”

I scoop her up inside my arms and speak just loud enough for her to be able to hear my words, my conviction, my promise, my vow.

“This is it for us, Helena, no more dicking around, and no more being a coward. I will never let anyone hurt you ever again, even me. You are mine and I am yours, I swear.”

Even though I am desperate to, I don’t push contact beyond this; she’s been through enough. Merial was right, I need to take this slow with her, but I’ll be fucked if I’m not going to show her how much she means to me.

Chapter 29

Lucius

Helena is flitting around the garden, and after a few minutes of watching her, it suddenly dawns on me that she’s still nervous…ofme. Or maybe everyone, but whatever the reason, I’ve decided it’s time to put an end to it.

Her home is a world away from mine in her calm, secluded, cozy cottage, and yet, I feel totally at peace; she is my home, wherever she is. For a moment, I envy her daughter for the life her mother gives her, for the childhood that was ripped away from me when I was even younger than she is now. I also envy her for all the years she’s had with my Helena while I was without her, the years I denied both of us because I was too emotionally stunted to do anything but wallow in my own anger, fears, and frustration.

Pushing my sunglasses on, because the sunlight is blinding today, I step quietly toward her. I am right behind her when I eventually say her name, causing her to jump before hanging her bird feeder back on the tree. When she turns, I take her in, all five foot four of her tiny frame. She doesn’t eat much, I can tell, but she still carries the chest of a mother who breastfed her child. Her jeans hang from her hip bones while her oversized cardigan wraps around her tiny waist without doing it any justice. Chocolate shades of hair blow around her neck as the wind picks up in velocity.

Remaining by the small fruit tree, she waits for me like an obedient dog. She’s been trained to only speak when she’s been spoken to. The pain of seeing her like this, especially after having known her before, is almost unbearable. But I can be her strength, as well as the man who should have been responsible for her safety and happiness. So, I decide to do what I do best; I don’t give into her desperation to have me speak first, I force her into breaking out of her comfort zone. She waits, but I wait longer, maintaining a fixed gaze on her searching, lost eyes. I even raise my brow to let her know it is me who is waiting for her, pushing her to lay some of that old sass on me, the way she used to do when we were unknowingly flirting with one another.

“W-what?” she finally whispers. Her stuttering breaks my heart a little more, as well as causes me to tighten my clenched fists inside of my pockets.

“I was wondering when you were going to stop being scared of me,” I reply bluntly, “to lay some of that feisty attitude on me.”

“I warned you, Lucius,” she murmurs, “I told you I wasn’t who you remember. And I don’t blame you if you want to take back what you said.”

“Come sit with me, Topolina,” I tell her, nodding my head over at the table on the patio, complete with a stripy parasol and matching deckchair cushions. As expected, she dutifully follows behind so I take hold of her hand and link it through my arm, meaning she has to walk side by side with me. Being a gentleman, because her ex-husband sure as hell wasn’t, I pull out one of the chairs for her to sit on before I kneel in front of her hunched over body. I then clasp hold of her hands and stare at her in such a way, she is unable to look anywhere other than into my eyes.

“Talk to me, Helena,” I say softly, “tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours. I know you; you’re always thinking. So, share with me.”

“I can’t,” she says, looking down at her fingers which are fidgeting with nerves. “I learned to keep quiet, to hold my tongue, and to do as I’m told.”

“Fuck, what era did he have you living in?” She winces over my words, and I feel guilty for my cheap insult, because truth be told, there are no words to describe what he did to her. “Sorry.”

“No, please, don’t be,” she sighs. “You are being you, the man I fell in love with. So, even if I have, please don’t change who you are. You, you’re everything; you always have been to me, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. I love you, even the asshole you,” she says, smiling for the first time today, which relieves some of my tension. “Besides, we both know asshole you is only a part of you.”

“Fuck, Helena, don’t let the whole world know that!”

She laughs and I can’t resist the urge to place my lips on top of hers. She kisses back and cautiously places her fingertips on my cheek, as though she is desperate to keep me from pulling away. I don’t want to pull away either. Everything she’s just said is the polar opposite of what my mother had told Paul when I was only a child. This woman validates me, and I love her for it.

“Don’t be scared of me,” I whisper against her ear. “Love me and don’t be scared of me…please?”

“Loving you is easy,” she replies, “being scared is a conditioned mindset I am trying to work through. I just need time…and you.”

She shocks me when she wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders so I can pull her in against me, silently telling her I can give her anything she wants, as long as she lets me have her.

Lying Helena down inside her bed, I tuck her up and leave her to sleep while I go and make some phone calls downstairs. The first is to Paul. I want to know every single piece of information on her ex-husband, and I want the dirt to come in thick and fast. The second is to my PA, Sara, who thinks I’m a piece of shit, but loves me all the same. I ask her to have a set of clothes delivered to Helena’s cottage and to make sure my penthouse is secure while I’m away. The third and final call is to Merial, asking her to go through every minute little detail she knows about the years I have been apart from my topolina.

After several hours of Merial going off on many long-winded and unnecessary tangents, I pour myself a glass of some shitty wine I found in Helena’s cupboard. I almost spit up when I hear the door unlock and someone letting themselves in. Not sure who the fuck it is, Evan for all I know, I grab a poker from the fireplace and position myself so I can attack the intruder from behind the door. As they walk through, I hear a gentle sigh before grabbing them by the shoulder with the poker being held high up in the air.

---