“And you?”
“In my case, I thought if I could focus on other things, not myself, for a while, I would be okay. If I could have some purpose beyond living in a darkened mansion floating around like a tragic, gothic heroine, then maybe none of it would hurt so bad.”
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Yeah. It did. I...I love helping people. And I was able to surround myself with women who had no love for clothing or fashion. I lived a life where outer beauty was a trap because it could lead to vanity. To pride. And since I had none...” She laughed. “In an odd way I suppose I soothed my pride that way. Because I was clearly the least in terms of looks, so I was starting at a greater advantage, and I could be proud of that. That it wasn’t a challenge for me to avoid the mirror or to not long to spend ages on my appearance. So...I guess what I really did was try to find a new place I could be the best. But I wasn’t that good at it to be honest. I had—I have faith. I believe. But I preferred to ride horses and not meditate indoors. I love food, and it was always hard to fast. But it was quiet. And easy to be content and nothing more. Nothing less.”
“You always use that word to describe it,” he said. “You never say happy. Content is the one.”
“Because happiness is too big, I guess. Unlike you, Xander, I haven’t been searching for the big emotional high. A return to feeling. It hurts too much to lose everything. And if you care...if you care then it’s almost impossible to recover from. Not only did I lose everything, I had an audience. And the moment when I was attacked I had no control. I just stood there. Screaming and screaming, the pain...I can’t even describe the pain.”
He felt a tear splash onto his arm and an answering ache echoed in his chest.
“And I just let them all have it. Every drop of it. The protesters, the media, everyone. I never want to be like that again. I never want to feel so much. But I think...I think just having contentment doesn’t work, either.”
“You don’t think?”
“I was starting to feel a little dry. Brittle. Does that make sense?”
“Like you needed to be watered,” he said. “Like you would fade to nothing if you didn’t have something new and fresh added to you.”
“Yes.”
“It makes sense, because I felt it, too.” Nothing was real or substantial in his world, nothing truly passionate in hers. And for people like them, it was a recipe for death.
“I think that’s why I like the way you are with me,” she said, turning her face into his arm, muffling her words.
Heat assaulted his face. A strange thing. Almost like he was embarrassed, which was ridiculous. “The way I am with you?”
“Yes. The way that you’re...rough. I know this isn’t how it is for everyone. I understand that the way I like it isn’t the way everyone does.”
“No,” he said, his blood rushing south, “it’s not.”
“But I think the reason it works for me is that I spent so long filled with nothing but this sort of bland steadiness. And you... You fill me with sensation. Pleasure and pain so sweet I can’t bear it. It lifts me up from contentment and takes me somewhere else entirely.” She turned over to face him, her expression serious. “But it’s only physical, so it feels safe. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he said, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in his lungs. “Yes, that makes sense.”
“I don’t shock you, do I?”
He had to laugh at that. “You shock me? Until yesterday you were a thirty-three-year-old virgin fresh from the c—”
“Convent, I know,” she said, sighing, sounding exasperated. “But look at it this way: I’ve had a lot of years of nothing more than fantasy. A lot of...desire building up inside me and all. And it was sort of by accident I discovered I liked a bit of rough. I blame the cave wall.”
“Do you?”
“And you. I think you’re corrupting me.”
He laughed again, but this time not because it was particularly funny. “I’m afraid that might actually be true.”
“I’m happy with it.” She shifted against him. “So, what are you going to do?”
“About?”
“You aren’t the heir.”
“I know,” he said. “And for years I was deciding to just not be the heir, but Stavros’s circumstances and Eva’s wishes have changed that for me.”
“I understand that.”
“But you don’t approve?” he asked.
“It’s not that I don’t approve. It’s just that I wonder if your father needs to know. If your family needs to know.”