Burn Into Me (24 page)

“Are you okay?” I ask her in the car, after leaving her in silence for a while—for me to calm down, and for her to mull over what happened at lunch. I am not sure if I’ve done the right thing by standing up for her, but I couldn’t let her mother get away with it. Only now I am starting to understand why she has such a strained relationship with her mom.
 

“I’m fine. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if I should’ve done it, talk back to your mom like that and walk away from lunch. But I just couldn’t stand seeing you hurt.”

She puts her hand on my arm.
 

“Don’t apologize. You have no idea how grateful I am. You were completely, totally awesome back there, and I’m still trying to get over it, I guess. You’re just about my favorite person in the world right now. I really owe you one.”

I take her hand and lace her fingers with mine.
 

“Is that so? Hmm… I’m sure I can think of a way you can pay me back. Actually, many different ways.”

She shoots me a sassy smile. “I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

Feeling lightheaded, I’m not sure where I’m driving to, but my automatic pilot brings us back to Manhattan, to TriBeCa, and an instant later we’re in front of the underground car park of my building. The door opens and I drive in, excited and at the same time a little apprehensive. This is the first time I have ever taken Elle to my place. In fact, this is the first time I have ever taken a woman here; I have another apartment in my office building just for that purpose. But there’s no way in hell I’m taking her there. She deserves better, much better. And this is my chance to finally fulfill the fantasy that I’ve had since I’ve first laid eyes on her: to take her in my bed, again and again.
 

I park the car, open her door, and lead her to the lift, resting my hand on the small of her back. After I press the button, she says, “So this is where you live. Are you sure you want me to see your secret hideout?”

It’s like she knows this is a big deal for me, taking her home. So when the lift doors open, I push her all the way to the back wall. With one hand, I reach behind me to tap my keycard and close the distance between us until I feel her soft body against mine, putting my hands on either side of her head.

“I am sure. Very sure.”
 

 
I bend down and bury my face into her neck, breathing in her exhilarating scent. Brushing my lips against her soft skin, I get a taste of her sweetness, and when she lets out a moan, I nuzzle my way along her jaw until I reach the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flutter closed while my hands glide into her long, silky hair. And when I cover her lips with mine, her arms loop around my neck, her fingers entwining in my hair. I kiss her deeper, needing more of her. Her soft lips part, and I sweep my tongue inside to taste her, explore her, devour her. My hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer against me. I want to feel more of her, bury myself in her. I can’t wait to lay her out on my bed, her hair spread out on my pillow while I’m deep inside her.
 

The lift comes to a stop, its doors sliding open. Reluctantly I break our kiss, which has both of us out of breath. I take her hand to walk her into the foyer of my penthouse, and wonder if she’s impressed. I’ve spent a fortune on the interior design to achieve a comfortable feel with dark wooden floors, oversized couches, and a wood-burning fireplace. But even if she is, she certainly doesn’t show it. She doesn’t even glance at the wrap-round, extensive view of Manhattan and the Hudson River. Instead, she detaches herself from me and singles out the glass display cabinet in the middle of the living area where I keep my collection of rocks.
 

Throwing my jacket on a chair, I make my way to the wet bar to fix her a glass of Petrus Pomerol 1998, my favorite red wine, and a sparkling water for myself. We clink glasses, and I watch her soft lips connect with the glass, tasting the wine.
 

“Mmm, this is delicious.”

I slide my hand around her waist. “Not half as delicious as you.”

Flashing me a shy smile, she points at the glass display. “Where did you get these from?”

“From my climbs.”
 

I put my glass down to open the cabinet and take out a handful of rocks.
 

“This one is from the summit of Kilimanjaro. I almost didn’t make it to the top, so this one is precious to me. And I found this one when I climbed Mount Everest last year. Every time I climb, I like to take these little mementos with me. They are reminders of my achievements.”

Elle takes the rocks from me, one by one, and studies them.
 

“They’re cool. You should have kept the one we found in Montauk.”

“No, I wanted you to have it, so you’ll always remember the time we spent together.”

Her gaze locks with mine. “That weekend is burned into my brain. I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget it.”

“Well, I sure as hell won’t.” Without taking my eyes off Elle, I put the rocks back in the display case. I pull her close against my chest and lean down slowly, gazing into her darkened eyes. I am about to savor another taste of her sweet lips, when my phone rings. Cursing loudly, I yank it out of my pocket, intending to switch it off completely. But when I check who is calling, my irritation immediately falls away—it’s my family from Chicago, undoubtedly still enjoying their long, drawn-out lunch with the huge extended family.

“Ryder,
figlio mio
. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,
mamma
. Are you still having lunch?”

“Yes, of course. I made the
polpette
you like so much, but now you’re not here to enjoy them. Switch on your camera, I want to see you.”

I press the camera button and smile into the screen when I see my aunt and uncle waving.
 

“Who else is there?”

The camera pans to the familiar long wooden table laden with food and my cousins sitting around it, pulling funny faces. It makes me smile.
 

The camera zooms back to my aunt. “We miss you,
figlio
. I think it’s the first time you’re not here at Thanksgiving. Now I’m curious, who’s this special girl you stayed in New York for?”

“Okay, okay. Hold on a minute.”

I cross the room towards Elle, who has made herself comfortable on the couch next to the window. With my phone face-down, I curve my arm around her shoulders and whisper, “My family wants to see you.”

She mouths, “It’s okay.”

I lift up my phone and place the screen in front of us.
 

“
Mamma
and
pappa
, meet my girlfriend, Elle. Elle, this is my crazy family.”

She waves at the phone. “Hi everyone. Happy Thanksgiving. I’m sorry to keep Ryder away from you this year.”

“We don’t mind as long as he’s happy. And it looks like he is. You must be very special. This is the first time he’s ever introduced a girl to us.”

Grinning, I pull her closer against me. “That’s right,
mamma
. Elle’s special to me.”

“Then you look after her. Make her happy. And bring her here so we can meet her in person. We’re all dying to meet her.”

“I will. You’ll meet her at Christmas.”

I say goodbye to everyone and switch the phone off, directing all my attention back to Elle, who is touching her eyebrow piercing.
 

She says softly, “They seem lovely, your family. They obviously care about you a great deal.”
 

“They’re nosy, they’re noisy, but yeah, I can’t complain. They’ve helped me become what I am today. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t know where I’d be. Probably still out on the streets. And now that you’re mine, they’re going to be your family, too. They’re going to love you.”

Elle is staring out the window, not uttering a word. I cup her chin with my hand and gently turn her face towards me. When she lifts up her eyes to meet mine, I notice something I’d never expected to see: tears are rolling down her cheeks.

Elle

I don’t want Ryder to see me cry.
 

But when he starts talking about his family—how I’m going to part of it, that they’re going to love me—it stirs something up in me, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. I’ve never had a family that cares so much about me as his family does about him, even if they are not even blood-related. Even through the phone, I could feel how much Ryder’s aunt loves him. He has something I’ve never had—a home. The warmth radiating from Ryder’s family on the small screen is such a sharp contrast to the coldness that my mother—the woman who gave birth to me—displayed today, humiliating me in front of the family and worse, in front of Ryder.

I don’t deserve him. I am convinced of that now. And it has nothing to do with his wealth or status—he is the most caring, dependable, and considerate person I have ever met. If I really love him, I should push him away so he can lead a better life without someone as flawed and broken as me.
 

But the moment he wipes away my tears and pulls me against him, there is no way I can resist. It feels so good to be in his arms; I have never felt safer. Shushing, he strokes my hair, and I bury myself in his chest.
 

“Beautiful, it’s going to be okay. You’re safe with me,” he whispers. “I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.”

I swallow my tears before I can utter a word, and even then my voice is shaky. “It’s just—you have such a wonderful family. I’m ashamed of mine. I’m so sorry you had to witness what you did.”

“I’m not sorry at all. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to know everything about you. And that includes your family and how you grew up. I like your sisters. And even your mom. I’m sure she means well, but she probably doesn’t know how to express herself.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand. It has nothing to do with her command of English. She sees me as an object, a possession. One that she can show off to her friends if I do well. But if I don’t, I’m an embarrassment to her. It’s all about face; what she looks like to the outside world. And I don’t look good enough for her. She thinks I’m a failure through and through.”

Ryder furrows his brow. “But she invited you. She wanted you to be there. That should count for something.”

“No, she didn’t invite me. Rose did. And if it weren’t for you, it would have been worse, much worse. She was holding herself back because she likes you, because you’re rich. She couldn’t care less about me.”

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? I know she was wrong to say the things that she did, but she’s your mom after all. At least she looked after you when you were growing up. It’s hard to appreciate that when you’re a hormone-driven teenager. I think she does cares about you, but she just doesn’t know how to show it.”

How dare he say that. He has no idea what my mother is really like. I feel a hot anger invading my veins.
 

“Exaggerating? You think I’m exaggerating? You think I left home just because I was a spoilt teenage brat and couldn’t get my way?”

“I didn’t say that, I just…”

I stand up, trembling from anger, and raise my finger at him. “You think that my mother really cares about me?”

He lifts up his hands. “I’m just saying…”

“Do you call a mother caring when she doesn’t protect her own daughter? A mother who doesn’t believe her fourteen-year old telling her that her virginity was taken away from her, by force, in her own bed? A mother who claims it was all in her imagination? Is that what you’re saying? Huh?”

Rising to his feet, Ryder grabs my wrist, preventing my finger that is a breath away from his face, from doing any damage. I try to shove him away with my left hand, but he doesn’t budge. Rage churning inside me, I punch him in the chest. I must punish him. He has to suffer—for what that man has done to me, for what my mother has put me through.
I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
 

Ryder lets me punch him a few more times before he grabs my other wrist and hauls me against him. I’m unable to move in his iron grip, no matter how much I try. Eventually exhaustion takes over, and I give up. I start crying, sobbing, bawling. Years of anguish and frustration are pouring out of me.
 

“She didn’t believe me, she didn’t believe me,” I repeat over and over, while Ryder encircles me with his strong arms, planting kisses in my hair.
 

“I’m so sorry, beautiful. I had no idea. But I’m here for you. You’re not alone.”

I don’t know how long I stand there against his chest, my tears drenching his shirt. After a while, my sobs subside, and I feel a little calmer. But then I feel Ryder tensing up, and I gaze up into his eyes. To my shock, they are filled with a raw, primal fury.
 

“Tell me, who did this to you?” His icy tone slices through me.
 

“No one. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Releasing me from his arms, he clenches his fists at his sides. “I’m going to get the bastard who did it. I’m going to make him pay for it.”

“Ryder, no.”

I’m not going to tell him. It happened years ago, and I don’t see the point of dragging it all up again. It will only bring back the pain. Of course I would like to see the asshole get his just deserts, but at what cost? If Ryder manages to find him, what will he do to him? It will make him as much as a criminal as that monster who did it to me. If I’ve learned anything from this, is that violence doesn’t solve anything.
 

Ryder’s hand cups my cheek. “Tell me. Please. I can’t let him get away with what he’s done to you.”

Shaking my head, I cover his hand with mine. “You’ll never find him. Because I won’t tell you who he is. Really, it’s in the past. I believe he’ll be punished one way or another. Karma, you know.” I force myself to put on a smile.
 

The expression in his eyes softens. “Elle, I can’t—I can’t take it, seeing you like this. It breaks me to know that someone’s hurt you. I
have
to do something.”