I was about to crash their date.
When I arrived, they looked very fucking cozy, and were finishing a carafe of red wine. All my plans to be smooth and charming went out the window.
Mine.
I stormed inside, and it took everything I had not to punch that fucker in his smug face. Then my eyes zeroed in on Caro.
“We need to talk,” I seethed from between gritted teeth, and I grabbed her arm to pull her up.
Lebuin stood immediately.
“Let go of her, m’sieur, or you and I will have a problem.”
I scowled at him, and it really pissed me off that he was right. What the fuck was I thinking treating Caro like this?
Caro stood up quietly.
“It’s okay, Marc,” she said, her voice soft and soothing.
He raised his eyebrows, staring at me, then back to her, choosing to take her at her word. Really fucking smart.
“Very well, but I will be phoning your mobile in 15 minutes to check on you, chérie.”
She smiled at the bastard then blew him a kiss.
Were they together?
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” I snarled as we left the bistro.
Caro stared at me in amazement. “A friend! What’s it to you?”
Good question: what was it to me? Answer: everything.
We walked down the street in silence, but in my head a thousand furious questions were drowning out rational thought.
I ducked into a small bierkeller that I knew and ordered us drinks.
“Deux whiskies.”
Caro’s eyes snapped to mine, fury making them blaze, a look that always made my cock hard.
“No merci,” she said, her voice heated with anger. “Je préfère le vin rouge, monsieur.”
Shit! Could I do anything right? I took a deep breath and downed my whiskey in one gulp as a glass of red wine was placed in front of her.
“What are you doing here, Caro?” I asked, needing to know what Lebuin was to her, and why she was risking her life going to a warzone.
“That’s a good question, Sebastian,” she replied icily. “Right now, I’m wondering why the hell I’m listening to you order me around.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” That isn’t what I meant!
“Seriously, what is it to you?” she asked.
I ran my hands over my hair in frustration.
“It’s dangerous out there, Caro,” I replied tightly, pointing out the insanely clear fact. “In Afghanistan, I mean. I know that’s where you’re going—obviously.”
She took a deep breath, and I got the impression that she was forcing herself to stay calm. I was glad one of us was, but it probably wasn’t a good sign.
“Sebastian, apart from the fact that I’ve already had assignments reporting from Iraq and Darfur—which weren’t exactly summer camps—it’s none of your business.”
Was she fucking joking?
“It is my business!”
“Based on what?” she snapped back.
Ten years! Ten fucking years, and I can’t get you out of my head. But I couldn’t say that.
“You know, Sebastian,” she said, her voice rising as her own anger started winning out, “I spent 11 years being told what to do by my ex-husband—I don’t need you to do it as well. You of all people should understand that.”
Is that what she thought? She was comparing me to him?
“Caro, that’s not it, I…”
But she wouldn’t even let me finish my sentence and stood up to leave.
“Caro! Don’t … don’t go.”
Her expression softened as she met my eyes.
“Why did you bring me here, Sebastian? And I’d really like to know why you assaulted me last night.”
What?
“Assaulted? I didn’t! I’d never…”
How could she say that to me? I’d never, never hurt her. So why did she look so angry?
“Actually you did,” she stated, her voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion. “You were just too drunk to remember it. You’re damn lucky I didn’t report you. Although I’m fairly sure you can work out the reason why I didn’t—why I couldn’t. Good night, Sebastian.”
I was trying to take in what she was saying, why there was so much venom in her voice. But the hits just kept on coming.
“I hope you have a nice life, I really do. And while you’re at it—quit your drinking before you really do something stupid. More stupid.”
And then she turned on her heel and left.
I was too stunned to follow her. I sat at the bar with my head in my hands, trying to process everything she’d said.
Jesus, she’d accused me of assaulting her! I knew that wasn’t possible—I couldn’t hurt Caro. But an ugly voice inside my head was sneering at me. Yeah, you think, you fucking asshole? So you can remember every detail about last night? Huh, didn’t think so. Had another blackout, didn’t ya? Who knows what you did while you were shitfaced and filled with poison and anger?
I felt sick. I ordered another whiskey to help keep the nausea at bay, trying to decide what to do.
She didn’t report me because she was afraid the past was about to get dug up; she was afraid that the label of sexual predator would come back to haunt her because of what happened when I was 17. What a twisted joke: if anyone treated sex like hunting for prey, it had been me, for the last seven years.
No, I had to talk to her. I couldn’t let another night go by without speaking to her or explaining or something.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside her hotel room again, sweating with nerves. I was calmer under enemy fire—but one look from this woman eviscerated me.
I raised my hand and knocked. There was a brief pause, then I heard her voice through the door.
“Yes?”
“Caro, it’s me. Can we talk?”
Another pause.
“I think we’ve said everything, Sebastian.”
Shit. “Can I come in? Just to talk.”
“Is that a joke?” her voice was disbelieving. “No, you can’t!”
I leaned my head against the door and tried one more time.
“Caro, please. I won’t … try anything. I just want to talk to you. Please.”
I held my breath as she finally replied.
“Okay,” she sighed. “Listen, I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes. That’s my best offer.”
“You … you don’t trust me?” My voice was strangled as I forced the words out, but she didn’t reply. “Okay,” I said, at last, “I’ll be waiting.”
My hands were shaking as I walked away. What the hell had I done last night that had scared her so much that she was afraid to be alone in a room with me?
I waited in the lobby, sitting on a long, low sofa, my head in my hands, wondering if she’d even turn up.
But then the elevator doors opened with a soft hiss, and she was there, walking towards me. I stood up, wanting to touch her, but scorched by the wary expression on her face.
She sat across from me, on the edge of the sofa, her body rigid with tension, and waited for me to speak.
“You came,” I said quietly.
“Evidently. What do you want now, Sebastian?”
Her voice was cool and distant, and some of the hope that had risen when I saw her walking toward me slipped away.
“Would you like a drink?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No … I…”
I would have given a lot to have a drink right then, but she was still waiting for me to speak.
She crossed her arms and stared at me coolly.
“What you said earlier…” I took a deep breath. “I didn’t really assault you, did I?” Please say no. “You were just saying that to get back at me.”
If it was possible, her expression turned even colder.