"I am good at two things. Murder and sex."
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Xavier Visconti expected one thing on December 3rd. And that was getting his money back from a spineless woman he had taken pity on. What he didn't expect, though, was to meet his damsel-in-distress.
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Her face became as white as a sheet and the tight grip she had on his hand loosened. Xavier felt a pang of regret at pushing her so much today. Today of all days was supposed to be full of celebrations. He was proud of her for finishing second year.
But Emma had talked about the nightmare she'd witnessed her mother having. The vague conversations he'd had with Lydia in the past all pointed to the fact that it wasn't just Elvira who was behind the night terrors. There was someone else.
Noel.
Emma's father.
It had to be him. And it frustrated Xavier to no end that despite all his resources, he was nowhere close to establishing that fucker's identity so he could make him live the nightmares he'd put Lydia through.
He hadn't expected her past to have such a strong hold on her even after she'd left it behind. He hated that she was still suffering every day. He'd do anything to wipe the haunted look in her eyes.
"I–I can't tell you that," she whispered and moved back, shaking her head. She removed her trembling hand from his as her eyes filled with tears.
He wanted to pull her closer but he refrained. "Why?" he demanded. "Why not? Whatever it is has to be bad enough that there's rarely a morning you don't wake up crying. I let it go when you were attacked at your university because I thought you'd eventually tell me who the fuck has such a hold over you."
"Please, Xavier. Let it go," she pleaded, tightening her grip on him. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm fine. It was the stress of exams. They're finished now so it won't happen again."
He shook his head. "Emma says it's routine. She talks about it like it's a part of life. That's not normal, Lydia. Let me help you."
"You can't," she choked out, "please, Xavier. I'll be better from now on. Please–"
"Do you think it is fair Emma has to see her mother cry every morning?"
He regretted it as soon as the question was out of his mouth. Lydia froze, horror coating her features before her expression crumbled and she turned away from him. He closed his eyes before opening them as he saw her curl up into the seat, head between her knees. She was silent as she cried.
"Lydia..." he managed, regret coating his tone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
When his hand touched her shoulder, she cowered away. The clearing of throat from the driver's seat made him remember that they were not alone. The hard look in Rafa's eyes in the rearview mirror made him stop.
He'd gone too far.
And that was something that had never happened before. Even younger, he was rarely given the opportunity to act his age. The burden of Visconti empire had been his to carry from the beginning. He simply did not have time to get emotional and show feelings. Not when so many things were on stake.
