Belle peers at me. “You believe me?”
“Why would you lie to a stranger?”
A gleam appears in her eyes—it’s a mixture of relief and sorrow. “Yeah, why would I?” It’s rhetorical. The gleam fades. “He didn’t hurt me physically.”
The way she pronounces “physically” clues me into the many and varied ways a person can be hurt.
You don’t have to beat the shit out of someone to fuck them up—that crap about cutting her tits off? Who said that to their daughter?
I stare at her. “You were dreaming before I woke you up, Belle. I heard you say something in your sleep. Something about promising you wouldn’t eat the cake.”
“He wanted me to be a certain weight.” Belle rubs at her temples. “Every Monday at four-fifty, he’d wake me up and tell me to use the bathroom. Then, I’d go to his office in a bikini and he’d make me get weighed.
“I-I don’t think it was sexual. He never touched me, but he used to look at me like I was a doll, I guess. A doll he wanted to shape.”
Shaking her head, she continues, “I’d get measured—waist, hips, thighs, and chest—and if I gained weight, I was only allowed to eat dinner for a week.”
My brow furrows. “That’s sick.”
“He’s a sick man.” Her gaze turns distant and her fingertip drifts around the rim of her glass. “He wants me to look like her. He killed her, but he wants me to be like a living shrine to her memory. It’s crazy but then,he’scrazy, isn’t he?”
When she shudders, I say, “You should have told me, Belle. I wouldn’t have made you come back to New York.”
God, I genuinely mean that.
I’m so fucked.
She shakes her head, utterly unaware that I’m in over my goddamn head here. “The city is a big place and, as you said, you want me to meet your family. Aren’t you lucky I don’t want you to meet mine?”
Though I snort, my nails are digging into my palms.
I don’t give a shit if I give Lucas a heart attack over this situation—over my dead body am I letting Aidan make her go home to her father.
Unable to stop myself, I slip my hand behind her nape and draw her into me. The whiskey sloshes in both our glasses, but I ignore that and only still once her forehead is pressed against mine.
“I might be a stranger, Belle, but while you’re in the city and you’re with me, you’re safe from him. I promise.”
She swallows. “Thanks, Cade.” Her fingers whisper up and along my arm. “You’re a good man.”
I’m not.
If she finds out the truth, she’ll soon change her mind, but shewon’tfind out.
I pull back so I can press a kiss on her forehead. “How do you feel about getting something to eat to soak up the whiskey?”
Her gaze drifts to mine. I’ve no idea what she’s looking for, but when she graces me with a nod, it’s inexplicable how I feel like I’ve won gold at the Olympics.
10
BELLE
“How’s the club sandwich?” Cade questions as he stretches his arms across the back of the booth. “Does it taste as good as you?”
Eyes greedily taking in his biceps, I almost don’t hear him then I blush.“It’s delicious.”
“Hmm, I beg to disagree. Lemme taste?”
Biting my lip, I pass him the snack and watch as he takes a huge bite. Then, he’s shaking his head. “Good, but you’re a ten and that’s a five.”