Dangerous:Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)(19)

That one, small gesture of someone actually giving a crap turned my quiet crying into full-on belly sobs.

Rob made a startled noise at the back of his throat, clearly not having  expected the Niagara Falls of snot and tears erupting in front of him.

"I-I'm so-sorry," I hiccuped, doing my best to rein in the torrent of  volatile emotions that ripped through my chest. "I'm j-just s-so alone.  A-all the time."

"Mmmh," Rob hummed, as if that made all the sense in the world. It  instantly made me feel a bit better, as if maybe I wasn't completely  crazy.

"Tell you what, why don't you eat some of them crackers, love, and have a  glass of ginger ale? I'll just give Blaine a call, have him come home  to look after you."

My moment's relief vanished immediately at the sound of my husband's  name. "No. Not Blaine. He h-hates me." For some unknown reason, saying  it out loud made a fresh bout of tears burst out of my eyes and stain my  already salt-speckled glasses.         

     



 

"Nah, he's just a bit rough ‘round the edges. You gotta learn to handle  him. He's a Steel alright, but he's a good kid when it comes down to  it." Rob gave my shoulder a light pat and fished his phone out of his  pants. "You just settle down now, yeah? He'll come runnin' the second he  hears you're upset."

"Don't tell him that," I sniffled pathetically. The last thing I wanted  was for Blaine to know he'd beaten me with his silent  treatment-especially when I felt so inexplicably weak. He didn't need to  see me when I was down.

"Don't be daft," Rob said as he left the kitchen with a backwards glance  over his shoulder, phone already lifted halfway to his ear. "He's a  bloke-he'll crack at the sight of his wife's tears. You gotta learn to  play the game, love."

I stared after the big, burly man as he disappeared out of the kitchen  and out the front door. Even with my best efforts I couldn't imagine  Blaine being anything remotely close to "a good kid," but perhaps Rob  did have a point. Perhaps a softer touch was what was needed when it  came to Blaine. I'd spent all my time trying to be strong and  together-and even when I'd failed miserably, I had reacted with anger  rather than tears.

Maybe he would indeed react better if he saw vulnerability in me instead.

I grabbed a piece of paper towel off the counter and wiped my eyes  before blowing my nose. At least it would be pretty easy to show him  vulnerability today.







When Blaine walked in about three quarters of an hour later, my tears  had finally stopped, even if my face was still salt-streaked and my eyes  red-rimmed. I hadn't been able to find the energy to go wash my face or  even change into regular clothes, so when he rounded the double doors  into the kitchen, he found me sitting on a bar stool still in my pajamas  and snacking on a gherkin straight out of the jar.

I turned to face him when he paused in the doorway, half a pickle still in my hand. "Hey."

He frowned, his light gray eyes taking in everything from the half-empty  pickle jar and used tissue on the counter to my tear-stricken face and  ruffled appearance.

"What's going on? Rob said you weren't feeling well?"

From the gruffness in his voice it was hard to imagine he actually cared  about my state of mind, but then again-he had come home early to check  in on me, which was more than I'd expected. I bit my lip and looked  down. "I'm sorry."

"Beg your pardon?" An apology was obviously not what he'd expected, judging from the clear note of surprise in his voice.

I managed to lift my head again so I could look at him. "I'm sorry," I  repeated. "For everything that went down between us last week. It wasn't  how I'd intended the night to go."

Blaine looked at me silently for a little while, as if trying to  determine if I was being genuine or not. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't  really blame him for his hesitance. If he'd suddenly apologized to me  out of the blue, I would have suspected him of ulterior motives, too.

I put the pickle down and wrapped my arms around my midsection. Being  open like this made the feelings of vulnerability come rushing back.

"I don't want it to be like this," I continued. "I know you have your  family, your work, but I …  I don't have anyone except you. I c-can't keep  living like this, w-where we d-don't even s-speak and … " I had to pause  to not break down completely again, but I couldn't stop the tears that  started to pour down my cheeks again while I tried to word exactly how  alone I felt.

Blaine made a low noise at the back of his throat, something between  surprise and concern. He even took two steps toward me before he paused,  his hand falling to his side as if he'd been about to reach for me.

"Look, I … " His frown increased as he looked at me, obviously at a loss for what to do.

I shook my head. "You d-don't have to s-say anything. I'm s-sorry, I d-don't know what's g-gotten into me."

Blaine looked at me for a few more moments before he sighed deeply and  sank down on the bar stool next to me. "I hate crying women," he  muttered under his breath.

"S-sorry," I hiccuped. "D-didn't want Rob to c-call you."

"And that's the fucking problem, isn't it," he growled. "You're so bloody stubborn."

I didn't have the spirit to point out that he wasn't exactly easy to deal with, either.

Blaine rubbed his face with one hand and gave me a long, evaluating  look. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. I have a business meeting  with some really important people on Sunday. They're old family friends,  and I know they want to meet the new Mrs. Steel. I'll bring them home  for the meeting instead, and you'll set the table and cook dinner like  you did last week. If you can get through the entire night without  throwing wine, I'll reconsider starting to let you get out a bit more.  Show me I can trust you, and this doesn't have to suck as hard."         

     



 

I blinked, sheer surprise stopping the flow of tears. It had actually …   worked? Not being strong to earn his respect, not trying to be friendly  to earn his trust …  No, breaking down and bawling for more or less  inexplicable reasons was what it took to find my way out of this mess.

"Think you can do that?" Blaine seemed noticeably more comfortable, now  my sobbing had quieted down. He stretched out his long legs and grabbed a  cracker from the open pack, once again the picture of an alpha male in  perfect control.

I nodded and reached for another piece of paper towel. Yeah. If it meant  I didn't have to go through this crushing loneliness again, then I  could play his good little housewife. And who knew-perhaps by the end of  it, I would also gain the key to my freedom.



 *





Chapter 15

Blaine



The smell of garlic-roasted chicken hit my nostrils the second I walked  through the door. Soft jazz played from the dining room, and I could see  the warm glow of candle lights spilling out into the doorway, just like  it had when I came down to Mira's "Lasagna Surprise" last week. I  suppressed a cringe at the memory of how that night had ended.  Hopefully, tonight would go a whole lot better. I was banking a pretty  big business deal on this, and had had time to regret making the  suggestion more than once since I found Mira sobbing in our kitchen in  the middle of used tissue paper and clutching a giant jar of pickles.  But if it worked …

I sighed softly at the memory of how vulnerable she'd looked as she sat  there in her pajama bottoms and the same, silky chemise she'd worn on  our wedding night. How frail. And sweet. If it worked, then maybe we  could finally move forward. Yeah, I had my work and my family as she'd  pointed out, but it didn't help much when all my thoughts had been  circling around her for the entire past week. I hated to admit it, even  to myself, but not talking to her and having the whole fucked-up  disaster that was last Friday hanging over my head had been awful.

Her unexpected apology had been a godsend.

"What a lovely house. A wedding present?" Gerald Brigs, one of my  father's old connections and the twins' godfather, looked around the  entry hall. Next to him, his nephew, Leo, was in the process of taking  off his scarf. He inhaled deeply, obviously appreciating the scents  floating out from the kitchen as well.

"Ha, this is the first time I've come to your home and it doesn't smell like stale beer. New wife keeps you on a leash, huh?"

I ignored Leo and turned my focus on his uncle. He was the real power  behind this deal anyway-Leo was just here as part bodyguard, part  trainee. His dad didn't trust him to handle anything important on his  own, and from what I knew of him, I couldn't say it was a big shock.

"Yeah, my father bought it for us. Said my old flat wasn't a place for newlyweds."

Also, he had needed it for one of his money laundering schemes.

"Mmhm, a flat is nowhere to raise little ones. They need grass and trees." Gerald patted me on the back with a jovial grin.