Malevolence (Dahlia Saga Book 4) Page 3

  He was…gorgeous.

  I had always reserved that word for those Hollywood men that came on television, but he could have easily been one of them.

  “This is her?”

  He was a little rude too, apparently. I may not have been the best people person, but I knew it was wrong to speak of someone as if they weren’t standing right there when in the same room.

  Thomas jumped, somehow missing the presence of the man that was rapidly filling the entire room. He’d been too busy scrolling through his phone.

  “Yes, but I need to talk to you alone for a moment.”

  “What the fuck is she wearing? Is it homeless?”

  I looked down at myself, rightfully offended. My shawl was a size or two too large, but not gaudy or anything. It was a far cry from coming off as homeless.

  “Good god, your decorum is terrible,” Nester reprimanded him.

  “I don’t need good manners in my own house.” He slipped his hands into his pocket, and I caught sight of a shiny band.

  So, someone had married him. I hoped he was kinder to his wife.

  “My question still stands.”

  “No. She’s not homeless. If you step out into the hall, I can better explain the situation.” There was a slight treble in his voice that surprised me. Was that nerves? I had never seen him frazzled.

  “Why are you nervous?” the man questioned, picking up on it as well. Without giving Nester a chance to reply he sighed heavily and began walking to my side of the room.

  I didn’t know what to do. I froze, just watching as he walked right up to me. The fragranced notes of his cologne enveloped my sense of smell.

  Wait…I think I knew this smell.

  I didn’t have a moment to process what that could mean. The man was there, destroying all illusion of personal space. He lifted my shawl from over my head, ignoring Nester altogether. Surprisingly, his touch was gentle, impersonal.

  “I need to‑‑.”

  “You said you wanted me to see her Thomas. Calm down. I’m not going to devour the woman,” he cut him off once again, and then turned his full attention back to me. “How old are you?”

  I was caught off guard. No one had ever asked me that before and…I didn’t know. Nester had told me at least four times before, but I couldn’t remember the number. It seemed irrelevant. What was the point in knowing how many years I’d been on this earth if I couldn’t remember them?

  “You don’t know?” He didn’t sound like he cared one way or another.

  I shook my head.

  He laughed softly, and a pair of dimples revealed themselves in his cheeks. “Take those sunglasses off.” When I didn’t immediately comply, he muttered a curse and did it himself.

  If there was ever a moment where the hands of time would slow, it would have been this one. The colored lens slid away and I could see the true color of his eyes.

  Pale green surrounded by lighter shades of blue, set beneath thick black eyelashes. He lowered his hands slowly, now crushing my sunglasses within his grip.

  If I couldn’t speak before I really couldn’t now. My vocabulary was suddenly non-existent. This man was as familiar to me as a stranger, but I knew the scent of his cologne and night after night I’d been haunted by his eyes.

  They stared down at me with an intensity that had my stomach dipping into my toes.

  If he knew who I was, if he recognized me at all, he wasn’t showing it. The only indication of recognition was my poor lens about to pop out of its frame. His expression remained the same, set in an unreadable mask.

  Beneath his penetrating gaze my palm began to itch. I fought the urge to bring it up and touch one of my scars. I knew he could see them shining as bright as the sun.

  “It looks like you have a lot of explaining to do, Thomas.”

  I blinked at the change in his tone. His face may not have shown it, but he certainly wasn’t rejoicing at my arrival.

  “Well go to my office,” he said, speaking to the man who’d nursed me back to health all those years ago, but still staring at me. “You…” He cocked his head to the side and squinted, bringing a hand up. His fingertips skimmed the scar above my brow. I flinched backward unintentionally, and his jaw set.

  “Stay,” he commanded, moving away from me so fast you’d have thought I had the plague. The most ridiculous thing about that was the way it made me feel.

  Sad.

  I was upset he walked away from me and didn’t know why. I looked to Nester helplessly. What had I done wrong?

  The man stopped just before he exited the room and turned to look at me once more as if he’d forgotten something.

  “You’re staying here. Bab’s will show you to your room.” Then to Nester, “You come with me. Now.”

  “It’ll be alright,” Nester reassured me, following him like an obedient dog.

  What would? Why were things not alright in the first place? And that man…who was he?

  I was still standing where they’d left me when Babs reappeared.

  “Come now, missy,” she said softly. There was a kind, understanding smile on her face. I hadn’t realized how much I needed one of those until I saw it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and let her take me to whatever room I’d be staying in.

  We went up the stairs, and to the right, stopping at a large door second to the last at the end of the hall. She twisted the knob and stood off to the side so I could go inside. I was pleasantly surprised at what I saw. The four-poster bed was massive, plum linen perfectly made up and smelling of fresh detergent. There was sparkling, black chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A wardrobe and matching vanity too.

  “Is this okay?”

  “It’s very pretty,” I answered honestly.

  “I think so too. You can relax for a bit if you’d like. I’ll bring your things up shortly.”

  “Thanks,” I replied absentmindedly.

  She began closing the door, stopping when I turned at the last second, unable to help myself. “What is the name of the man who lives here?”

  She studied me for a moment and nodded. Whatever she’d just concluded she kept to herself. “His name is Julian. Julian Andreou.”

  My ability to speak was stolen from me for the second time in less than an hour. I nodded to acknowledge I’d heard her, repeating it out loud the second she was gone. “Julian.”

  That was the name carved into my thighs.

  Chapter Five

  I could count on one hand the number of times something had caught me completely off guard. This was by the far the most extreme and unexpected. My mind was working overtime to piece together how the fuck I missed this. Morgana was alive. She was here, at the chateau. And from what I could tell she was in good health.

  Thomas sat across from me sweating buckets. He cleared his throat and adjusted how he was sitting. “I know you’re angry.”

  I chocked on a bitter laugh. “Angry would be a severe understatement.”

  I was livid. And he just sat there too much of a pussy to look me in the eye, knowing I wanted to tear every limb from his body and burn him alive. I also needed him to open his goddamn mouth and tell me all I needed to know.

  “None of this is her fault.”

  “All of this is her fault,” I snapped. But even as I said those words, I knew they weren’t true. We both had a hand in what happened back then.

  I should have been a better man. I’d failed her. I knew that. I lived with that regret every day. Which is why some people would have been overjoyed to be in this position.

  By nature, I wasn’t an emotional person, but I sure as fuck felt them raging inside me right then. A cyclone of wounded pride, hurt, and rage. I wanted to bash Thomas’ goddamn head in. I wanted to break shit and cry like the day I did when I woke up in that hospital room to the news she was gone.

  The control I craved, needed like the air I breathed into my corrupted fucking lungs was trying to slip through my fingers like grains of sand. I stared at the wedding picture
perched on my desk. She’d looked beautiful that evening, even as angry and confused as she’d been.

  Ignoring the burn in my chest, I kept my shit together and spoke with an air of indifference. “She’s been living with you this whole time?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “It wasn’t too difficult. I kept her out of Riverview and Redwood.”

  He shifted in his chair again. “She’s a homebody by nature and my home is almost as secluded as yours.”

  That was such a simple response, a solution so easy, it pissed me off that much more. I shook my head, drumming my fingers on my desk. All these years we’d been living apart, so close yet so far. I’d been speaking to a ghost that wasn’t real. Oh, the irony of that.

  I hadn’t even recognized her until I’d removed that ugly fucking garb. Her hair was one solid color now, but it looked just as long. Skin was still the tan as caramel, so she must have found a way to be outside. Her bewitching hues were the same sweet, olive green. A sadness still lingering within their depths. But there was something else in them too, that I didn’t recognize.

  She’d aged like I thought she would. She was beautiful as ever, holding onto the youthfulness she never got to live.

  Looking in her eyes, I knew she didn’t recognize me. Had no damn clue who I was. Fuck if that wasn’t a stab in the gut.

  “Who is she?” I questioned.

  “She’s…” he trailed off, his brows slanting as he reconsidered my question. “She’s Morgana. That same girl from all those years ago without the burdens of her past.”

  “Burdens?”

  “You know as well as I do that her life was hell. She was nothing but a tool to be used by those around her.”

  “Not for me,” I bit out coldly.

  He swallowed audibly and nodded. “You loved her.”

  “I love her.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know this version of her.”

  I was seconds away from saying fuck whatever it was he had to say and jamming my scissors down his throat.

  Except, I was like an eager student I wanted every crumb of information regarding the life she’d lived without me, and the reason why he took her. But that didn’t mean I would stay silent and let another man dictate how I felt about her.

  “You can’t tell me what I think or feel. She still looks as gorgeous as she did when I met her. I know her minds a mess, because no amount of trauma is going to clear that disaster up, and most importantly, she’s still my wife. I loved her then and even if I want to choke the living shit out of her right this second, I’ll love her now.”

  He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his face. “That all may be true. More so, I believe you. But will she love you back?” Holding up a hand to stop me from speaking, he continued, “I won’t tell you why I did it. Not yet. That would make me instantly disposable and I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay with you.”

  “That’s the wisest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  He ignored me and kept talking. “She’s extremely dissociative. There are things she remembers. Small things. She never forgot the color of your eyes. The face of a baby. I had a hand in that. I don’t believe her knowing all there is will ever be a good thing. However, I sense she may digress, and I don’t want to keep her away from you or her son.”

  I already knew she didn’t remember our son. For her to be this close all this time there was no way in hell she’d abandon Mason all over again. I’d thought of him instantly. My boy didn’t know his mom. He hadn’t the faintest idea she was here right now. To tell him this and then add she didn’t know who the fuck he was either? It brought on a different kind of hurt. One I couldn’t shield him from.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t look at the sack of curdled milk sitting across from me a second longer. I would paint this office red and have a damn good time doing it.

  “You need to get out. Leave your keys here and go to the room she’s in and make sure she doesn’t leave it.”

  He was smart enough not to ask any questions. He removed his keys from his pocket and then headed straight for the door.

  “And Thomas. If you dare try and take her off this property, I’ll make her watch as I cut off every single one of your fingers and then feed them to you.”

  “Understood,” he muttered, slipping out into the hall.

  I took five minutes to gather my thoughts as best I could. I didn’t waste any time after that. I scrolled through my contacts and began making some calls.

  It took a good thirty minutes to get everyone assembled apart from Katie and Helena. The boys could explain this to them as they saw fit.

  “So, what did she look like?” Luca asked, grabbing a mint from the bowl on my desk.

  “She looked like Morgana,” I stated nonchalantly.

  “Did you call us in here to lay claim then?”

  I scoffed. He knew that would never happen. I’d never wanted more than a tight hole or warm mouth to relieve myself in. Nothing was ever more than that and never would be. Especially now.

  There was only one woman I’d dare tie myself to and she just waltzed back in from the dead wearing something you could find at the bottom of a lost and found bin.

  “I don’t think we need a warning not to touch someone that resembles a family member. There are some lines we don’t cross Dad,” Declan answered him.

  “Not to mention you’re the only one in this room stuck in a miserable relationship,” Mason added.

  “That too,” Ethan agreed.

  “She looked like her, because she is her,” I cut into their bullshit before they could really get started. Quick and straight to the point. I was still trying to get a grasp on my emotions about the whole situation and preferred to do it in peace, but they had to be filled in. They deserved a heads-up. That was more than I’d just gotten.

  “Can you explain what you mean by that?” Luca questioned, leaning forward.

  “Mom’s alive?” Mason asked. He didn’t sound angry or upset, he sounded fucking hopeful.

  It reminded me of all the times he’d asked about her when he was just a young boy. I gave him my full attention. He deserved that more than anyone else in the room. “She’s alive, but she doesn’t remember some things. Mainly us.” That was as direct as I was willing to be on that point. Mason was smart, though. He understood my meaning, so did everyone else.

  The room fell silent as that sunk in. It was no secret to them or anyone else in town how crazy I had been about her. That obsession had dulled but never faded. My world orbited her. The sun fell and the moon rose with her. But she didn’t remember who I was.

  “This could be a good thing. It is your second chance to get it right,” Bab’s spoke up from the back of the room.

  I’d called her in because since she’d started back here the past few months, she was around for everything.

  I turned her words over in my head. Second chance, huh? That didn’t matter much to me. I was going to reclaim her as mine regardless, but I couldn’t deny there was an appeal to that. It was a way to ensure history didn’t repeat itself.

  “What do you think?” I asked Mason.

  “I think given the history and what you’re saying now. There’s a way for Mom to be part of this and not want to…you know. And I want to meet her.”

  He deserved that too, the right to meet his mother, but first she needed to learn that she had a son. I contemplated how to handle this. I knew there was a right thing to do, a cautious and gentle approach. Just as I knew that wasn’t the route I would be taking.

  My whole life I’d schemed and manipulated to get what I wanted.

  The only thing I never controlled was the way Morgana loved me. She’d done that of her own free will. I didn’t believe in a lot of things, but I did believe in us. If she remembered my eyes, then some part of her sub-conscious knew who I was.

  By some sick twist of fate, the woman I spent my evenings reminiscing about had come back. I wouldn’t
let her go this time. And I would find a way to make her remember me and our son.

  She had loved me before and she would love me again, every tar black inch of my soul.

  Chapter Six

  They say that the strongest link to sparking a memory is through one of the six senses‑‑not sight, taste or touch. Not even sound, but smell. I breathed in a stranger and the scent of him unlocked something in my mind.

  I knew that fragrance once lingered on my skin just as his name was permanently etched into my thighs.

  I tried so hard to recover the way that came about, but all I’d managed to do was accelerate my heart rate and create a discomforting sensation between my legs.

  I was in a room fit for a princess in a home that rivaled a castle, and upon our very first meeting the man who presided over it had taken root in my thoughts and refused to get out. He was rude and cold. Yet, my body reacted to him in a way I only ever achieved with my hands. I was sure that wasn’t why Nester had brought me here and I would never in a million years broach this topic with him, doctor or not.

  There was a double knock on the door, and then it was swinging open, Nester himself stepping into the room. “Are you alright?”

  “I would feel better if I knew what was going on.”

  “I know. When the‑‑.”

  Damn him. I stood up and glared. “No. I don’t want to hear anything else about time. All I’ve given you is time. I’m not a young girl anymore. I can handle this.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Then neither do you! You brought me here for a reason. Who is that man? I know he’s someone.”

  He slouched back against the door and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s your husband.”

  “My what?” I laughed in disbelief. “Did you just say he’s my husband?”

  “You are Morgana Andreou and have been for many years.”

  I shook my head as if it that would undo what I’d just heard, sinking back down onto the mattress. “You told me I didn’t have anyone. You swore. How long has it been?” I stared, waiting for him to explain.