Page 33 of Afraid to Hope

“Apparently. I believed I’d moved past all this. I really did, but Viviane showing up like this, acting like everything was great between us, and coming on to you, well it brought some, I guess, long-buried emotions to the surface. It’s as if she is blind to the strain and the hurt. Thank you for having my back tonight, by the way.”

“Having your back, that’s easy.” His voice dropped, etched with concern. “What did she do?”

“She betrayed me.” Natasha ducked the intensity of his eyes.

He gently pulled Natasha into his arms. “Talk. It doesn’t do you any good to hold it in and let it fester.”

The side of her head rested in the crook of his powerful shoulder. His body felt like a bastion. She inhaled his sexy scent and absorbed his strength as he rubbed her back. Natasha’s laugh was more of a bark. “You sound like my grandmother.”

“Yeah, well she must have been a lot like my grandmother, full of love and wisdom.”

“She was.” A wistful smile spread over her face. “So, Viviane was always flippant and sarcastic. When she went abroad the summer before secondary school with her family, we were separated for the first time. And it was long enough that I realized how her sarcasm had escalated. It was mean and she seemed to be intentional about hurting others. I didn’t want to be party to that, so I kept my distance. Are you sure you want to hear all this?” she asked tentatively.

Bane stroked her hair. “I am.”

Her voice was muffled against him, but the words came out in a rush. “Viviane went after the boy she knew I had a huge crush on. I was devastated because, well, I thought he was it. The mind of a fourteen-year-old…” Natasha shook her head slightly, then moved it deeper into the crook of his shoulder.He feels so good.“Viviane apologized, but it was half-hearted and only after she lost interest in him, which was almost immediately. She seemed unfazed, not concerned about how I felt or how what she had done affected our friendship. I accepted her apology, but then she did something the next day. She gave me a smug look over her shoulder in the hall between classes. She denied doing it when I asked her, so I convinced myself that I imagined it, but it’s obviously haunted me or I wouldn’t be mentioning it now, over twenty years later. I should pay you for counseling.” She laughed.

“Hey, I asked you to dredge up your history with her,” Bane murmured into her hair.

“Gia joined our school, an international school, a week later. She moved from Italy with her mother. She just joined us for lunch one day. She was funny, easy, and open, and Viviane’s antics washed off Gia’s shoulders like water off a duck. I think Gia’s sunny nature and her easy navigation of Viviane’s personality buoyed me and we grew close. She immediately reached out when my parents and brothers were killed and shared that she had never known her father. It bonded us, along with our fanatical interest in the past. Gia actually went on to study history before she turned to nursing.

“Gia was the one who spent hours with me while I struggled to pick up the pieces, orphaned by the bombings, the one who held me while I sobbed and raged to make sense of what happened, because Mémé and Pépé were emotionally unavailable. I didn’t blame them. They had also been destroyed by the deaths of their daughter, son-in-law, and grandsons.”

Bane massaged her back more deeply. “Where was Viviane during this?”

Natasha took a deep breath and blinked, fighting the stupor Bane’s magic hands created and to keep the emotions out of her voice. “Viviane showed up at the memorial weeks later, effervescent like soda. It was too much. She acted the same way when Pépé died, and when Mémé passed.” She bowed her head and focused on the tile floor. “It hurt deeply, but the long history of friendship in our families encouraged me to let it go, accept her for who she is.”

“And now? Where do you stand with each of your friends?”

“I was Gia’s maid of honor when she married Guillaume after their whirlwind courtship, during the time between the deaths of Pépé and Mémé. And I was at there for her a year later, after he died in a climbing accident in the High Atlas. Viviane never married but continues to go through men like they’re toilet paper. We’re in contact a few times a year, phone and texts, but Gia and I saw each other after my grandmother died last year, and we talk frequently, more often since her mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer.”

“I’m so sorry. Cruelty is a nasty trait. Viviane appears overly capable, based on what I witnessed tonight.”

“She improved as the night wore on.”

“Yeah, only because she was intimidated by me and was placated with a bottle of wine.”

They stood in silence for a while, soaking up the nearness and the comforting warmth of each other’s bodies.

Natasha had to know. “Would you? Sleep with her?”

“Are you seriously asking me that? No fucking way,” he said vehemently, separating Natasha from his chest. Bane slipped a finger under her chin and guided her face up, looking deeply into her eyes, his expression solemn. “I believe I’ve been more than clear who I want.”

“You’re the first man who’s said that to me,” she murmured.

Bane searched her eyes. “I find that extremely difficult to believe.”

Natasha shook her head and broke eye contact, pivoting away. “It’s getting late. We have a full day tomorrow and I’m tired. Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up and review our assignment.”

One who does not travel will not know the value of men.

Irritable and tired from tossing and turning, Natasha rose within hours of going to bed, having given up on sleep. Every time she’d closed her eyes, Bane’s mischievous expression taunted her. When she had finally fallen asleep, it was him she dreamed of, more specifically of the two of them grinding it out. Oh Lord, the pleasure he’d given her as she slept. Her body felt wrung out, like the aftermath of an intense orgasm. Had she? It was possible. She hoped she hadn’t done something as awful as scream in her sleep, because in her dream she certainly had.

Yeah, she didn’t even want to think about how long it had been since she’d been in a relationship, and if she were being honest with herself, it was little more than sex and the sex hadn’t been all that great. It had never been the life-altering experience she’d heard and read about.

Natasha had liked the last guy she’d been seeing. He was comfortable, like one of her old college sweatshirts. But that was it, and when he indicated he wanted more, she pulled away. Fortunately, she’d been called away on assignment, and then another, and another.

She made her way down the stairs and toward the kitchen in her silky pajamas, her path easy to navigate by the moonlight filtering into the courtyard.

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