Page 177 of Chandelier Sin
I shook my head, realizing I was answering his question when he had no right to know.
“A daughter,” he confirmed.
“How did you find out?”
“Answer my question first.”
“I’m not here for this.” I tried to get by him.
He blocked me. “Where is she?”
“I can’t talk about it.”About her.
Atticus looked harried, an expression I’d never seen on him as though he connected with my pain, as though he could touch what I couldn’t reach.
He was showing more compassion for Eloise than Aemon ever had.
Perhaps he was wondering why he’d not seen anything pertaining to a child at my cottage. Or at the main house. He hadn’t heard any laughter or seen any discarded toys. There were no sounds of a child’s joy rippling through a home where there had once been happiness because of her.
“What happened to her?”
He read my emotional turmoil. The dread I couldn’t wrangle back into a secret.
Far away,so far, I couldn’t tell her that Mommy loved her and would see her soon.
Too far away to protect.
“Stay with me, Eve.”
The palm trees on the other side of the glass threw their shadows over us, their fronds fluttering in the late-night breeze, seemingly laden with the weight of my worries, their trunks rooted deep in the earth as though they were offering to find another way to her.
“Just tell me how you found out,” I whispered.
“It was when I first pleasured you,” he said, his voice gentle.
With our intimacy had come his exploration of my body. Had Atticus felt my cervix, and that was what had given me away? Proof I’d given birth. A doctor would know about those things.
I squeezed my eyes shut. He’d known about her all this time. He’d probably wondered why I’d not talked about her.
Unless he suspected I’d voluntarily given her up.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“Because of who her father is,” he said.
My legs gave way.
Atticus caught me, bringing me against his chest and hugging me tightly.
He was right of course. I’d stayed too long knowing what kind of man her father was, because some part of me believed that Aemon would change, would become a better man. I’d once thought that fatherhood could soften a man’s soul.
I needed to think, needed to deflect this conversation, and not reveal anything more to show my vulnerability.
I’d wanted to talk to him about Eloise, but on my terms. Not like this. Certainly not after I’d witnessed his dramatic entrance into one of the most dangerous settings in L.A. with two Dominatrices on leashes, proving his prowess and making a statement inside the Grand Hall where terrible men proved just how terrible they were.
My face remained pressed against his firm chest as his rich cologne tried to lure me into sharing more.
