“Lux . . .” I’m at a loss for words as she utters the truth.
“And I wasn’t going to say these things, Vic. You-you can only bring about a fraction of redemption from what you’ve created by—” Her mouth snaps shut like some cunt pulled the plug on Regent Street in London during Christmastime. Where once there were festive lights, the whole place is submerged in darkness.
Bloody fuck me. Now, she won’t speak.
“Tell me, Luxury. You’re saying I can help in some way. I understand that I can’t fix shite. But if I can minimize your pain?” A few beats of arduous silence later, I add, “Should I send for the therapist? We can all chat together.”
“Screw therapy, Vic.”
“Weneedhelp, Little One.” I heave a sigh.
Narrowed brown eyes single me out. “I saw you on television, Victor, whileIwasin bedwith the sheikh. Youand. . . Madeline.”
In bed with the sheikh.
Though it takes everything out of me not to riot, I suggest, “I’ll kill Maddy? I’ll kill my mate by tomorrow eve.”
“No! Stop trying to be someone you’re not.” Luxury tries to rise, but I lean forward and wrap her in my arms. As I hold onto her for dear life, Luxury growls, “Go home, Vic.”
There’s no home for me to go to. I've shunned my dukedom. Surely, my grandmother has retracted my duchy and probably deliberates over a more worthy recipient. At this moment, I couldn’t care less. My only thought is to the obsession that stole Luxury’s heart away from my unworthy clutches.
“Your home is not my home. My home is not yours,” she pants. “I’m so, so sorry that I can’t look at you without reminiscing on what I lost. For these past few weeks, all I’ve done was try to imagine you as a separate entity from-from the baby that I no longer have. This isn’t working.”
“It doesn’t have to work. We lost a baby.” I glare at her. “You don’t think that I suffer from the same issues? I know this pain—”
“The fuck you do, Victor. You met your child. You held him, hugged him, loved him!” Her shoulders rise in anarchy. “I’m sure you had some amazing times with Jude, but you’ve never shared anything about your son with me. So how should I know?”
“This isn’t fair, Lux.” I pause a beat, realizing that statement aligns with her argument.This truly isn’t bloody working.“I lost two babies, Luxury. Not just one. You don’t get to see our child’s face.Idon’t get to see his or her face.You don’t know what our baby’s first cry would sound like.Idon’teither.”
Fresh grief washes over Luxury as she stutters, “I-I’m exhausted, Victor. My brain is a friggen war zone. Because I love you, and I hate you. Make this easy on the two of us. Go back to London.”
No. Not an option.
I run my hands over her biceps. “Alright, you’ve tired yourself out, Luxury. I’ll take you up to bed. Will resume this discussion tomorrow with the therapist. If that’s alright?” I stand slowly, holding out my hand. I owe this woman her happiness however and whenever she will consent to it.
I owe Luxury.
And if she needs me to leave.
I’ll damn well comply with her wishes.
17
Luxury
Victor’s leisurely reaction ratchets my wrath. Lava upsurges through my throat, constricting it to the point where I can’t breathe as he stands before me. He’s holding out a hand.
If I tell Vic that I don’t hate him at all, that I love him with all my heart, but I can’t move on until the sheikh pays . . . untilNoorpays.
That’s a fucking death sentence.
Hisdeath sentence.
I’ll have condemned him to death.
I bite my lip as tears roll down my cheeks. You'd think I'd be all cried out by now.Without his assistance, I climb to my feet. “I . . . don’t . . . want to do this anymore.”
“Shall we employ another therapist?” A warm blue gaze invites me in.