His eyes flash and for some reason his smile catches me unaware. It drains the rage from him and eases his frown. I wonder when Beauty became the Beast? What made him this way?
“Tell me about Su Yin.”
It’s a question I have ached to ask, and he withdraws his hand, causing me instant regret.
“She came highly recommended. By my therapist.”
“You needed therapy for–” I’m probing without really expecting an answer.
“For my nightmares.” He states simply.
“And therapy didn’t help.”
“Not even close.”
He butters some toast, his attention diverting to the simple act.
“I believe my therapist’s words were, I can no longer help you, but I may know someone who can.”
He smiles and I forget to breathe. How can one man be so charismatic?
“I met Su Yin in a hotel in Soho.”
I raise my eyes, and he chuckles softly. I love this lighter side of him; it’s addictive, and I lean forward as he smiles gently.
“She wasted no time, and I left having revealed more than I have ever done before. It was cleansing, a little uncomfortable, and yet it gave me a moment of peace I clung onto.”
He stops as Mrs. Harrington arrives with the tea, and only after she leaves does he pick up the conversation.
“Our visits switched here; the black room was her suggestion.”
“It was a good one.”
Even I must admit I experience peace in there.
“It was. It’s become my sanctuary, and her visits help.”
“Do you think she can help me?”
I ask an innocent question, more for a reaction than anything, and I’m surprised at the anger on his face.
“You have me for that, angel. Tell me your darkest secrets, and I will make them mine. Offload your demons onto my shoulders, and I will bear the weight. Do not be afraid of life all the time I am by your side. I am your dark knight, your savior, and your cross to bear.”
His intense gaze belies his sudden smile, and I shiver inside. It’s at moments like this I see the darkness in him. The one that enables him to do anything any normal person would believe sinful.
I sip my tea, wondering if many married couples have conversations like this, and I’m surprised when he pushes back his plate and sighs.
“I must meet with Spencer and take a call from my father. The morning is yours.”
“Can I go out?” I’m mildly excited for that, and he shakes his head.
“Of course not. You are still a huge target—remember.”
He reminds me of the surrounding chains that hold me captive, and I die a little inside.
“It’s fine. I’ll search this house for clues to your personality and use them against you. It will be a good use of my time.”
“Good luck with that.”