My jaw clenches and I slam the coffee cup on the table. “She didn’t have sex with Chris, Astrid. He raped her. What you saw that day was fucking rape.”
She gasps, her eyes widening. “W-what?”
“He took her against her will and hurt her. I’m not even supposed to tell you this, but I won’t tolerate it if you mention that word in front of her or insinuate that’s what she did to me.”
“But…but…she didn’t say anything…”
“She had a concussion.”
“Oh, God. Now that I think about it, she looked in pain.”
My fist clenches.
“I…” Moisture glitters in her lids. “I could’ve helped her but didn’t. I…was more disgusted than anything.”
“You didn’t know.”
Gloomy silence falls over us as we both think of all the ways we could’ve stopped it but didn’t.
Nicole must’ve felt so fucking lonely with no one to turn to.
“She didn’t show anything.” Astrid frowns. “After that night, she acted normal around the house.”
“Because she was taught by her bitch of a mother to not express emotions. She was too scared to disappoint her, which is why she didn’t report it either.”
Astrid jerks up. “This won’t do. She has to report it, even now. That lowlife can’t roam free after what he’s done. I’m going to talk to her.”
I grab her by the wrist and pull her down. “Don’t you dare talk to her about this. I only told you so you’d understand her better and mind your words around her, not so that you would pressure her into anything.”
“But Christopher…”
“He’s taken care of.”
“How?”
“You don’t need to know.”
Her eyes widen in slow recognition. “Is that why you came back to England after eleven years?”
“Yes. Just promise to…at least give Nicole a chance. She’s changed.”
A soft smile covers her features. “Apparently, she’s changed you, too.”
“What type of blasphemy is that?”
“She brought you back to London, you’re defending her like a die-hard solicitor, and you’re taking care of her brother, who under different circumstances, should be a spawn.”
“He’s a smart spawn.”
“You’re missing the whole point.” She grabs me by the shoulder. “But hey, I’m glad you’re changing for the better, even if she’s the reason behind it.”
“She’s not the reason behind anything.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Bug.”
Astrid laughs and I want to kick her and make her take back what she said. Because, fuck no, I’m not changing because of Nicole.
Right?
29
DANIEL
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll say I was drugged.”
Nicole laughs, the sound drifting in the chilly afternoon air and doing strange shit to my chest that I refuse to honor with a name.
There’s other shit happening to my dick, too, but it’s neither strange nor vague. I’m not ashamed to admit that I want this woman with the desperation of a sex addict, an incubus, and a nymph combined.
It’s borderline obsession at this point.
Yesterday after we had breakfast and lunch with Astrid and her loud family, I couldn’t wait to get Nicole all to myself. However, as the little shit Jayden would have it, we accompanied him on a London tour like some sodding tourists.
He took more photos than an egomaniac celebrity. And fine, it might have been fun, too.
I love watching how carefree Nicole becomes around her brother or how her motherly instinct shows up at any hint of danger. She was the one who was vehemently against coming back to England, but she was more eager than the tourists and Jayden united.
Thankfully, he’s spent all his energy and some and therefore, was out soon after we got home, which gave me a chance to fuck Nicole until dawn.
No kidding.
But this time, I made sure to tell my staff if someone interrupts us in the morning, they’re fired. Since they love Grandpa’s mansion more than their children, they paled and swore on their sacred tea that it wouldn’t happen again.
So I fucked Nicole again in the morning until she whined, then laughed, then sighed into my chest. I love how she snuggles up to me as if I’m her favorite person. As if we’re the only people in the world.
But what I love more is how much she likes the way I touch her, how she doesn’t escape in her head anymore and meets me stroke for stroke.
It’s as if she…trusts me.
My short honeymoon phase came to a halt when Jayden came knocking on our door. He demanded to visit his new friend, Brandon.
Nicole was skeptical about that, but when Uncle Henry offered to take him to Astrid’s and spend the day there, she couldn’t say no.
My schedule for the day was fingering her sweet pussy, eating it for breakfast, fucking it, then doing that all over again—not in that particular order—until we board the plane tomorrow.
Nicole, however, had other plans. She gave me the sloppiest blowjob of all blowjobs that may have transported me to another realm then told me to take her to the cinema if I want another one.
She’s a smart little minx and knew I couldn’t say no to having my dick sucked by her full pink lips.
So we go to see the fucking film. A sappy romantic one that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.
But it’s fine, I can handle this shit, because another blowjob is waiting for me.
Best currency ever invented.
“It wasn’t that bad.” She shakes her head as we walk through the nearby park. Since it’s early afternoon and the weather is bloody miserable with clouds upon clouds of gray—no surprise there—not so many people are out and about.
Nicole is fucking glowing in a simple white dress and a light peach-colored sweater. Her hair kisses the wind and replaces the non-existent sun, flying all over her face like an angel’s halo.
I can’t even look at her without being blinded, stabbed in the chest, and all these other chaotic emotions.
So I choose to focus on the current conversation instead. “No, it wasn’t bad. It was horrible and fucking cheesy.”
“All good love stories are.”
“All good love stories end in tragedy, Peaches.”
She peeks at me from beneath her lashes, then stares ahead. “I like to reimagine their endings. The tragic love stories, I mean. It used to make me feel giddy when I was younger.”
“I didn’t know you were a hopeless romantic.”
“The worst kind.”
“No wonder your favorite films are romance.”
“Not only romance. I don’t mind action, historical, thriller, or fantasy as long as there’s romance in the midst.”
“You graduated from hopeless romantic and entered the category of a creepy romantic.”
“You have no right to judge when your taste in cinema is boring.”
“Say what now?”
“Quentin Tarantino’s films are your favorites. Can you get any more obvious?”