Still, she wanted him to know. I miss my mom.
Pain darkened his eyes and she realized he actually cared. He didn’t want her to feel the anguish of missing her mother. He shook his head as though he didn’t know what to say. Then he looked at her, his eyes blazing as though he’d made a decision.
I will find a way for you to speak with her, at least send a message.
Shaun was speechless. He was going back on his decision not to allow her a phone call. The moment was deeply significant. It felt like he was taking a major step toward trust. She knew it was stupid, but she wanted to trust him back. She felt like she had to tell him the truth.
I already called her. She watched his face carefully as she told him.
There was an instant blankness to his expression that told her he was shutting down their moment and she couldn’t stand it. She took the final step between them, leaving only a tiny space so she could sign to him. Please don’t be angry. I had to. It was killing her thinking I was dead. When he didn’t move, she added, think how your aunt would feel if she thought you were dead.
When he didn’t respond, but still stared at her with his icy gaze, despair started to sink in. She’d been stupid tell him about the phone call. Of course he was going to be angry; she’d done something he'd expressively forbidden. Still, she hadn’t had a choice and if he couldn’t see that, then that was his problem.
Shaun tried to step away from him, but he grabbed her arms and held her still. She stared up at him. Slowly he released her as though waiting to see if she would bolt. When she didn’t, he began signing. Your conversation has upset you. Tell me.
He brushed his fingers down her cheek again.
Shaun gave herself a brief moment to savour his gentle touch, closing her eyes and leaning into him, allowing his wildly masculine scent combined with a subtle and expensive aftershave to wash over her. She nodded her head and he cupped her cheek. Then he dropped his hand and took hers in a strong grip. He pulled her toward the couch, indicating she should sit with him.
They sat facing each other, Shaun’s legs tucked cross-legged beneath her. He watched her steadily, giving her the chance to tell him about the conversation.
Shaun began signing. It was bittersweet to hear her voice. I always miss her when I’m travelling but I’ve never felt this way before. As though I might not see her again. Our conversation had a desperation to it, like we were both saying goodbye in case it was the last time we talked. Tears began spilling from her lashes, but she kept signing, knowing her emotions were causing her to mix up the words, but not caring. Jozef would understand what she was trying to say. I can’t stand the thought that I might never see her again. She’s the most amazing woman and mom, and after my father passed, we leaned on each other. Now I need her more than ever and I can’t have her. It hurts so much.
When she stopped signing, Jozef gave her a moment to compose herself. She used the edge of her sleeve to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. A hiccoughing sob jumped from her throat and out of her mouth. She covered it with her hand, while Jozef watched her with a warm glow in his eyes.
When he'd made sure she was calm enough to watch, he spoke. I remember the sound of my mother’s voice. It’s the only thing I remember about her. His gaze was steady on hers and she understood that he was telling her something he’d probably never told anyone before. I can’t remember her face, or what her touch felt like, but I remember the sound of her voice. Not the words, just the sound. I think she used to like singing to me.
Tears leapt to Shaun’s eyes, but this time for a different reason. Jozef could understand her pain because he’d been separated from his mother too. It was strange, having a moment of shared pain like this with her captor. He was the cause of her pain, yet he was also the one making her feel better. He wasn’t making false promises either, telling her she would see her mother one day. She respected him more for not lying to her.
Fatima’s words about Stockholm floated through her brain but she shoved the thought aside. Even if she had Stockholm, she was helpless. She was navigating a new world with a new set of rules. Her old ones didn’t apply. If Stockholm helped get her through this nightmare, then so be it.
Yet, as she looked at Jozef, she began to realize that she wasn’t living in a nightmare. Not really. Sure, it was terrifying to be constantly surrounded by armed men, with the knowledge that one false move could get her killed, but she couldn’t exactly call her situation a nightmare. She was being waited on hand and foot, given anything her heart desired as long as it didn’t relate to her being set free. Although, none of those things really mattered to her, and she suspected she was going to become quickly bored with having such easy access to everything. It was Jozef who made her look forward to waking up each day, despite waking up in a mansion filled with intrigue and criminals. She could no longer deny it, she was falling for her darkly handsome kidnapper.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Shaun reached out tentatively and touched the scar on his throat. “When did it happen?”
He hesitated, as if deciding how to answer. She suspected this was a topic he didn’t enjoy talking about, which was why she hadn’t brought it up before. Now that he seemed more willing to share with her, she wanted to know about him. About the kinds of things that had shaped the man he was now.
Finally, he told her, I was stabbed in the throat when I was seven. I don’t remember anything except waking up in the hospital with my aunt and uncle by my side. They told me my parents were both dead.
Shaun frowned and scooted closer to him on the couch, leaning in to examine the scar. This close she wasn’t able to sign, so she whispered, “Whoever stabbed you would have damaged your trachea, causing vocal cord paralysis. This is why you can’t speak, isn’t it?”
Shaun had suspected, but she hadn’t put a lot of thought into why Jozef communicated nonverbally. His lack of speech could have been something he was born with, completely unrelated to the knife to his throat, or it might have been psychological.
Jozef nodded, his head brushing hers as she leaned in to look at him.
“Whoever did this was either really bad at aiming, or they weren’t trying to kill you,” she murmured, almost to herself. “If I had to guess, I would say you were stabbed, straight in, straight out with a short blade. Your attacker was trying to damage your vocal cords.”
She glanced up at him and realized how close she’d gotten when his velvet blue gaze met hers, their face only inches apart. “Someone was trying to keep you from speaking.”
A slight frown pulled at his brow, as though she was giving him information he hadn’t known before. She wanted to ask him if he remembered anything, but he already told her he didn’t and she didn’t want to push.
She touched the rigid scar on his neck, running her fingertips over it and then lifting her fingers to touch his scruffy chin. He needed a shave. His facial hair grew quickly and even when he shaved in the morning, he usually needed another by the time evening came around. The dark hair against his pale jaw was sexy as hell.
The air surrounding them became charged with sexual tension as Shaun continued to stroke her fingers down the side of his face. She shouldn’t be doing it. She was reaching out and touching the forbidden, and if she wasn’t careful the forbidden was going to get her killed. Yet she felt helpless against the swirling chemistry that came to life whenever they were near each other. Like oppositely charged magnets, they were drawn together, even if they were better apart.