Blaine slapped his palm into the table hard enough to make his abandoned folder jump an inch. "Don't you fucking dare insult my wife!"
My father glared at me, the muscles in his neck working like they always had when he was about to lose his temper. But apparently, being confronted with Blaine's palpable anger made him able to rein it in. Without another word he spun around and stormed out of the office, followed by Michael.
Once the door was closed behind them and we could no longer hear my father shouting profanities and threats as he stomped down the hall, I turned to the still-seething man by my side. My husband.
"You didn't have to do that."
Blaine shot me a dark look. "They harmed you. That's exactly what I needed to do."
*
Chapter 19
Mira
Neither Blaine nor I spoke on the car ride home.
I was too wrapped up in the emotional turmoil of what had just happened, and I imagined he was still seething away with anger, at least if the dark look on his face was anything to go by.
When we got home, I went straight up the stairs and threw myself on my bed, burrowing into the duvet. As I lay there, clutching my blankets like a protective shield, my mind went over everything that had been said in that conference room. At first it took all I had not to start crying again, but the more times my thoughts looped, the more they focused on what Blaine had said rather than what my father had. What he'd done.
It was the first time in my entire life anyone had stood up for me. My mother never had the courage nor the strength to do so. She had chosen to accept the abuse instead. I remembered that once I had cried on her shoulder as a little girl over a particularly vicious beating, and she had told me I brought it on myself with my bad behavior.
But not Blaine. He hadn't told me what was done to me was my own fault. And he hadn't seen me as a victim, either.
Somehow, seeing his anger on my behalf and knowing he didn't find me weak and pathetic for what I'd gone through finally gave me the strength to do the same. I had survived years of abuse and come out the other side of it. I was stronger than most people.
I was a survivor.
Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes again, but this time, they were from relief. It felt like a knot in my stomach that had been there so long I'd stopped noticing it finally came undone.
And in some weird, fucked up way, it came undone because of Blaine.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a low knocking on my door announced Blaine's arrival. He walked in without waiting for my answer.
He'd changed out of the suit and back into his usual T-shirt-and-jeans attire, but his face was still set in the same grim lines as when we drove home.
"Hey," I croaked.
"Hey," he said. And then he crossed the room to my bed and climbed in behind me. His arm wrapped around my waist as his body curved around my back, shielding and supporting me.
I closed my eyes and leaned back into his embrace, too emotionally exhausted to protest the unexpected closeness. I didn't care that I wasn't supposed to let him touch me, that our relationship up until now certainly hadn't paved the way for physical closeness like this. All I cared about was that being held by Blaine right now felt better than anything had before.
We lay in silence for a little while, but it was the comfortable kind. The kind that let me feel the press of his muscles against my back, hear his slow breaths in my ear, and smell the faint trace of his cologne without anything disturbing the tranquil enjoyment of the simple, sensory experience of being held this close.
"When I came to see you, I'd just found out my father got my brother locked up on purpose. As punishment. Isaac disobeyed him, refused to kill someone who had snitched on us." Blaine spoke softly, but his mouth was pressed lightly against the side of my head just above my ear, so I heard the pain in his voice perfectly.
"He always taught us that you stick with family, no matter what. Always. Turns out, that doesn't count if you disobey him in any way. He gave his own son over to the police, Mira. My brother. It's … it's the deepest betrayal. I was so angry. I waited outside my father's house … at night. I had a gun. I … "
I put a hand on the forearm he had wrapped around my waist, offering him what comfort I could as he fought himself to finally share what had made him desperate enough to seek me out.
"I wanted to kill him," he whispered. "I was going to kill him. I would have, if I hadn't seen Louis and Liam through the window. They were visiting him-I didn't know. I've killed before, but I've never wanted to as badly as I did that night. It scared me. It still scares me."
"Do you still want to kill him?" I asked, giving his arm a gentle stroke to ease the roughness in his voice.
He paused for a moment, as if to mull over his answer. "I don't know. I don't think so. But I hate him, Mira. I hate him so much, and it's not meant to be like that. He's my father, and if I don't love him, then I need to at least respect him. Trust his leadership. And I thought I did-until … "
"Until he showed you you can't."
Blaine inhaled deeply, his hot breath tickling my ear. "Yes."
"There comes a time in all our lives when we have to take a step back and decide if the path we're on is one we have freely chosen, or if we are blindly following because it is what is expected of us," I said, twining my fingers with his. His hand was so much bigger than mine, it practically spanned the whole side of my stomach.
Blaine gave my fingers a small squeeze but didn't move his hand from my grasp. "Is that shrink-Mira speaking, then?"
I smiled at his slightly sardonic tone. "Yeah. It is. My point is, you are experiencing this anger because everything you have been taught was right turned out not to be the One Truth. It's an understandable reaction. You have had your entire foundation pulled from under you. Of course you're angry. And scared. But rather than turn that anger at your father, perhaps it's time to choose your own Truth now. Find your own path."
"I can't do what you did. I can't leave my family. I love my brothers, my crew … " The way he paused made it sound like he'd stopped before finishing the sentence, but he didn't continue.
"You don't have to. But you can choose not to let your father have the same power over you anymore."
He snorted, and I gave his fingers a squeeze to let him know I wasn't done.
"I know how it goes, he's the Big Boss. His word is law. But he can't control your emotions if you don't let him. And-you now see him for what he really is. That gives you a lot of power in how you choose to act on his commands."
He was quiet for a long time, and I thought he wasn't going to say anything else. But just as my eyes started to drift shut, he spoke again.
"You're a pretty smart bird, aren't you?" he hummed against my ear. His lips brushed against my lobe, raising pleasant goosebumps down the back of my neck.
I chuckled. "Sure. As long as I just need to dispense advice, rather than follow it myself."
"I'm not so sure … I don't know anyone who would have the strength to do what you did, Mira."
Something in his tone made my cheeks warm. It was … admiration, unsoiled by the sarcasm I could have expected from him. When he released my fingers to press his hand against my stomach on top of my scars, my breath turned shaky and my pulse sped up.
Carefully, as if he were trying not to spook a frightened animal, he eased my top up until it rested under my breasts, and raised up on one elbow so he could trace the scars with a fingertip. "Is this why you stopped me? On the stairs? You didn't want me to see?"
I swallowed thickly at the reminder of what had happened between us when he'd chased me up the stairs and pinned me to the floor. He was so close now, and though the gentleness with which he was touching me was in sharp contrast to that night, it was no less effective in making my body hum with mounting desire. I didn't know how to respond, so I just looked at his handsome face as he brushed over my scars, his eyes following the movements of his finger from underneath hooded lids.
"They are battle scars, Mira. Proof of how strong you are. They just make you even more beautiful."
When I didn't answer, he flicked his gaze from my stomach to my face, his gray eyes locking with mine. There was unmistakable heat in them, but it seemed different this time. Less aggressive, even though the intensity still made my stomach flip and my body tingle with awareness.
Slowly, Blaine leaned down toward me. My heart picked up speed again, drumming wildly behind my ribs. Anticipation warred with anxiety over what was happening between us and how everything seemed to have changed in the span of a day. But mostly, I just wanted him to kiss me. Needed him to, though I didn't know why. All I knew was that I might die if he didn't.