Chapter Twenty-Nine
Saoirse didn’t say anything for a long moment. He hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t want to upset her again, but if there was a chance she’d been hurt then he wanted to know about it.Neededto know. And would then would rend that man limb from limb. Metaphorically, in a courtroom, of course. He definitely wouldn’t hunt that fucker down and kill him with his bare hands. Mmm, definitely was perhaps a strong word.
Arthur tried to keep his breath steady—he didn’t want Saoirse to not tell him because she feared his reaction. When she nodded, there was a mixture of the triumph that she finally trusted him enough to tell him and also a cocktail of fury and heartbreak and tenderness and homicidal mania.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he managed.
She shook her head, looking away from him. As someone who was responsible for her well-being, he both wanted to respect her wishes but also coax her to do something painful but that he hoped would be ultimately worthwhile.
He took her chin between his fingers and turned her head, tipped her face up until she met his gaze.
“Do you think maybe you should?”
His stomach clenched at the thought that he’d done something already to re-traumatize her during their games, though she’d never seemed distressed when they played. Not in a way that had seemed beyond the expected reaction for punishments anyway.
“Okay,” she agreed after a few minutes during which he had to fight to breathe. “But you can’t look at me while I tell you.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest that she shouldn’t be ashamed and this wasn’t her fault and a million other things. But instead decided he’d pushed enough. He could tell her all those things later, and would.
He let go of her chin and she tucked her forehead against his neck. Her lashes tickled but he didn’t dare move. No, instead he held her tighter, willing her to hear with every beat of his heartI’m here, I love you, I’ll believe you.
“I was on law review. So, you know, lots of late nights. Most of them fighting with the other students.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up, because apparently not much had changed since his own days on law review.
“We had a faculty advisor. And he…”
Saoirse huffed and Arthur closed his eyes. He could see it coming now, the train barreling down the track and there was nothing he could do to stop it because the catastrophe had already happened and this was merely a replay. He wanted to look away because it would be horrible to watch. But Saoirse had lived through it and the very least he could do was bear witness.
“I’d had him in class spring semester last year and I felt like he favored me but I told myself it was because I was a good student. Because I was. He didn’t say anything inappropriate then. But being on law review… He started complimenting me. A dress I wore. That the yoga classes I was taking were paying off.”
Not okay. None of that was anything Arthur would ever say to anyone who worked for him, especially not a much younger, female employee. Not even an acquaintance. And a constant low-level discomfort could certainly take its toll on a person, but he suspected some ill-advised compliments weren’t the extent of this, even as he hoped it was.
“I was in the law review offices alone even later than usual one night and he came in. I was working on my laptop and he’d brought a bottle of scotch. Sometimes he did that, brought us coffee or beer when he knew we were working late. He poured us each a glass and when I tried to make excuses that I had to go, he told me he just wanted to have a drink, catch up. I didn’t want to, but I thought it’d be easier to just do it.”
Saoirse swallowed and blinked and it hurt him how much anxiety even talking about this fucker was causing her.
“I managed to steer him away from the lounge area to sit at the conference table instead, thinking he’d snap out of it if he remembered where we were, who I was. I kept talking about my classes. Anything I could do to remind him I was a student. But he ignored me. Slid his chair next to mine and put a hand on my thigh.”
Arthur rubbed circles on her back and tried not to hold her too tight. It would be because he wanted to protect her, but he didn’t want to make her feel trapped or smothered, especially given that she must have felt that way with this man forcing himself on her.
“He slid his hand up my skirt and pushed his fingers inside me and—” Saoirse shrugged against him. “I should’ve done something. Pushed him off or run away or something. Anything. Anything other than saying, ‘I don’t think this is appropriate, please stop.’ I should’ve fought when he told me to hush, that no one had to know, he knew I liked it, had seen how I’d looked at him.”
“It wasn’t your fault. What he did was wrong. He was abusing his power over you, taking advantage of the fact that you wouldn’t want to upset him. He’s the only one here to blame. 100 percent.”
“See, that’s what I’d say to anyone else who told me something like this. But for me?”
Saoirse shook her head and he could practically feel the shame radiating off her. He did hold her tighter then, cradled the back of her head and pulled her closer.
She was his now and while he couldn’t protect her from everything, he could sure as fuck protect her from this asshole. He’d look him up when Saoirse was resting and figure out how to nail this bastard to the wall. Until then, he would tell her as often as she needed to hear it, until she believed it, that this wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t to blame.
“Pretty girl, I hate to break it to you but you’re only human. A damn fantastic human, but human nonetheless. You can’t expect more from yourself than you would from anyone else. Would it help if I forbid you from being so hard on yourself?”
Saoirse snorted and then sighed. “I don’t think so because brains are stupid but I appreciate the thought.”
She dug her fingers into the cotton of his shirt and held on. He wished to God he had something more to offer her.
“Is there more?” he asked softly. He suspected there was, but hell, that was more than plenty to mess a person up.