“Yes!” she replied. “And I’m almost done. I haven’t even needed Mom’s help.”
He ruffled her hair. “Of course, you haven’t. You don’t need it. Why don’t you go finish so we can have whatever delicious dinner your lovely mother has made for us.”
He smiled at me, and I smiled back, my heart in my throat.
Violet ran to do as her father said. The man in question walked over to me, pulling me in close and kissing me on the cheek.
I didn’t stiffen at his touch. I’d learned not to do that. To respond negatively to it. Some part of me even relaxed into it. Some part of me still loved him. Because when he was loving, it felt right. Warm. Safe. And I’d imagined that everything he’d done was just a nightmare. A phase. Whatever. I imagined that we had a perfect life ahead of us.
Then he’d get angry. I’d do something wrong. And our perfect life shattered.
“Isn’t she a doll?” he murmured into my hair.
I ran my palms up and down his back, my instincts picking up on his energy. The safest thing to do was to act like everything was normal. “Absolutely. She’s the most perfect thing on this planet,” I told him, meaning every word.
Violet had gotten the best from both of us. My midnight black hair, my delicate features. Her father’s eyes. His height. The confidence in which she moved was incredible to see in a young girl. She lived in her skin in a way even I didn’t.
“She is,” he agreed, rubbing his hand along my bare arm. “And if you ever tried to take her from me, I’d kill you. You know that right?”
Everything in me froze.
He’d said it low, much too low for twelve-year-old ears. He’d kept the smile on his face, kept moving his hand.
My heart thundered, watching Violet who was utterly oblivious.
I believed him. That my husband, the man I slept next to, the man I still let make love to me, the one who nursed my daughter back to health when she had the flu, who coached her soccer team, who braided her hair... I believed that man would kill me.
I didn’t realize I was crying until Swiss’s thumbs brushed my cheeks, wiping the tears away.
I hadn’t seen him move, hadn’t seen him cross the distance between us. I’d been that caught up. That deep in my memories.
“I need you to understand,” I sobbed, clutching at his cut. It was the only thing holding me up right now. “How I got trapped. How it happened. Why I stayed for so long.” I hiccupped. “Why I left.” I blinked the tears from my eyes so I could focus on Swiss. “Why you are so important to me. Why you’re everything to me.”
Swiss pressed his forehead against mine. It wasn’t until then that I saw his eyes were wet too. “Don’t have the words, Countess,” he rasped, voice thick and broken. “Don’t have any words for you after all of that.” His hand gripped the back of my neck. Hard but not too hard. He was still being gentle. “What I will say is that you’re fuckin’ everything to me too. And I’m gonna spend my life tryin’ to make sure you get the happiness you deserve.”
He kissed me gently, closemouthed and quick.
Then he lifted me into his arms and took me into the bedroom.
I was out before my head hit the pillow.