“You know, Ian. ” Her voice trembled as she spoke. “I remember something you told me once, after you and Dane rescued me from that hell my family consigned me too. When life was a bleak, ugly little hole I had no idea how to climb out of. You told me nothing mattered but love. Nothing was so innocent, so pure, as true love. I just watched you destroy the very thing you once said you would treasure above all things. Pure, innocent love. May God have mercy on your soul. ” Then she turned to her husband. “And pray he has mercy for you as well. For it will be a long time before I do. Now, I go to give what comfort I can to my daughter. If she will allow it—” Her voice broke. A reminder, that because of them, her daughter had flinched from her, unwilling to be comforted in their presence.
Ian stayed silent. He heard every word she said, felt them like knives in his gut, but all he could see, all he could truly remember was watching that purity slowly die in Courtney’s gaze.
As the door slammed closed behind Marguerita, he stood, facing the man who had been his dearest friend.
Dane was watching him soberly now, the fury of moments before having dissipated in the face of his daughter’s pain, and his wife’s fury, perhaps. He watched Ian thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed, the cold gray depths reflective.
“Well, you two have truly managed to fuck up what began as an otherwise perfect morning. ” Khalid picked his shirt and shoes from the floor as he moved to the door himself. “And let me be the first to say that Marguerita summed it up quite well. You are both pathetic. ”
He slammed the door behind him as well, leaving Ian and Dane alone to face each other.
“She’s my baby. You’re my best friend. ” He pushed his fingers wearily through his dark blond hair as he faced Ian now. “Thinking of her, in bed…” He grimaced. “Dammit, I don’t want to think of my child, my baby, doing that stuff. ”
Ian grunted at that.
“I won’t let her take the blame. ” He shrugged. “As you said, I could have said no. I could have warned you and let you come after her. ”
“But she’s an adult,” Dane spoke over him. “As Marguerita keeps pointing out, she’s not a child anymore. ”
Ian shifted uncomfortably. He wished Dane would just fucking hit him. It would help alleviate the ache growing in his chest.
“She loves you,” Dane sighed as he pulled himself from the chair then. “I didn’t believe it. Not when Marguerita and Sebastian argued so fiercely. I couldn’t imagine she could understand the depth of acceptance it takes to love men such as we are. But as my wife is always eager to point out, our daughter has her grace, not just my stubbornness. ”
Courtney was hurting.
Ian pushed his fingers through his hair as he turned from Dane, unconcerned with the other man’s bitter realizations.
Damn it to hell, he could feel her hurting. As if something had ripped a hole in his soul when he watched that light die in her eyes, he could feel her pain. It hadn’t lessened, but had grown stronger, affecting his breathing, his sense of reality.
Nothing lasts forever. He had made himself believe that over the years.
Nothing endures. Nothing lasts. Nothing is permanent.
But Courtney was. Her love was. From the moment he met her, a wild little girl with big doe eyes, she’d watched him with the same unabashed emotion. The same innocence.
He had carried her out of her grandparents’ estate in the dead of night while Dane went after Marguerita. Her arms had been tight around his neck, her little voice whispering, “thank you”, “thank you”, over and over again. And from that day forward, she had watched him with that same, overwhelming innocence.
The innocence of love.
She was shameless. As honest in giving of herself as she was in how she viewed life. One of the few who endured simply because they loved.
What had he done?
Chapter Fifteen
One Month Later
The pain didn’t go away.
The aching loneliness refused to abate.
And dammit, she was fucking horny and couldn’t get off.
Courtney paced her room, dressed in the comfortable black cotton lounging pants and matching top. Her hair was loose, flowing down her back, the ripple of the strands against her shoulders reminding her of Ian. He had liked her hair. Many times he had wrapped it around his hand, holding her head back as he came over her, his cock working inside her as he whispered how tight, how hot she was.
She stopped at her window, staring silently into the gardens below. She couldn’t cry anymore. She had cried until she felt she could fill the oceans with her tears.
There wasn’t even anyone to blame, except herself. It would have been easier, she thought, if she could have hated someone else for the pain. She had known going in that making Ian realize he had a heart would be a difficult journey at best. But in her immaturity, in her own belief in herself, she had believed she could accomplish that goal.