Page 79 of Heir

Kai rubbed his hand in a circular motion over the small of my back, and I closed my eyes, wishing he would go back to holding me tightly in his arms—so tightly, I wouldn’t be afraid of disappearing—yet not knowing how to ask for that.

So I took whatever comfort he could give.

“Tell me,” he said, after some time had passed.

I closed my eyes. I knew he would want an explanation, but I wasn’t prepared to give it to him.

How would I even explain?

I let my mom talk me into working for a terrible man. In a moment of weakness, and all alone in Boston, I had confided in her how lost I was, and like the monster she was, she quickly pounced on that and convinced me to come home.

But the blame wasn’t solely on her.

I was a grown woman. I should not have let my mom talk me into anything.

I pulled back and looked up at him.

His blue eyes were bright with some unnamed emotion I didn’t understand. He cupped my cheek.

I closed my eyes and burrowed into his touch.

When I opened them, his face hadn’t changed, but the energy in the air had, and I didn’t know why.

“I overreacted,” I said.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“What would you say, then?” I asked, and it was hard not to hear the bitterness in my voice.

Why couldn’t I just be normal?

“That I know trauma when I see it. And what just happened in the kitchen, was it.”

My gaze dropped to the collar of his shirt. I could not meet his eyes any longer.

“Who is it?” he asked, anger brimming in his voice.

It sounded like he was trying hard to hold on to his control.

For me?

“My uncle,” I answered quietly.

“The fucking recluse?”

I shook my head.

He tensed. “William Gallagher?”

“I worked for him for about two years before he was found guilty of colluding with the Mansen Brotherhood.”

“What did the bastard do to you?”

I kept my eyes on the collar of his shirt. Today, he was wearing a black-and-red T-shirt. I didn’t think there was a color that he didn’t wear well.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and I reached up, my fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. He didn’t stop me.

I loved how free I could be with him, partly because it made me feel like perhaps he was as affected by me as I was by him. And partly because I didn’t think he ever let anyone this close to him.

---