Hot Commodity(78)

"Livy," he murmured softly. He reached out to touch her cold, damp arm, but she screamed before he reached her. It wasn’t some pathetic little yelp either. No, she opened her lungs and let loose. He nearly leapt out of his skin.

"Get it off me!" she screeched. "GET. IT. OFF."

"Olivia!" he said a little more harshly, anxiety lacing his words as he clutched her shoulders and shook, all the while scanning the sheets for the spider—or whatever—that had bitten her. He turned on the light, but the only thing touching her was the sheets. Still, she shoved them away and clawed at her arms, making red marks appear. He grabbed her fingers to stop her, clutching them tight while she struggled against him.

"The blood," she cried out. "It’s everywhere. Oh, God. Everywhere."

Cameron freaked, thinking she’d just lost her mind. "Livy? Livy honey, there’s no blood on you. There’s no blood. Wake up."

He shook her again, and this time she blinked, finally coming to. When she looked at him with wide eyes, he pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. She remained stiff a moment. But then her body eased, and she wrapped her arms around him; her entire frame surged as she wilted and wept.

He rocked her slowly, combing her hair with his fingers. "It’s okay," was all he could think to repeat. "It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream."

After a while, he stopped rocking and they merely sat there, holding each other.

"I saw him die, you know," she murmured drowsily against his chest. Out of the freaking blue.

He opened his eyes. "Huh? Saw who?"

"My father." Lifting her face, she met his eyes. "I was there when he killed himself, and my mother was too."

Cameron pulled her back into a hug, kissing her hair and tightening his grip, because he couldn’t look into her eyes if she was going to tell this story.

"No one else knows that," Olivia continued. "But Vivian was there. She was reading the morning paper when he walked in. After she finally noticed he had a gun tucked in his mouth, she said...she said, ‘Go ahead and pull the trigger, Roger. With the insurance I have out on your worthless ass, you’re worth more to me dead than alive.’ And he did what she told him to do. He pulled the trigger."

A shudder wracked her body. Cam felt it reverberate through him, making goose bumps mount on his arms. "Holy Lord," he whispered. He was suddenly glad he’d caused Vivian Roark to fear bankruptcy. How could any woman say such a thing to her own husband?

"After he hit the floor," Olivia went on, "She...she grabbed my arms and shook me, saying, ‘I wasn’t here. Do you understand? I wasn’t here when it happened.’ And that’s when I knew how evil she was."

Another shiver rocked her. Cameron pulled the sheet up over them, rubbing the bumps on both their arms.

"When the police came, I lied and told them what she wanted, saying I was the only one in the room when he...when it happened. So they all focused their attention on me. They grilled me for hours, wanting to know why he’d made a point to off himself in front of me, wanting to know what I’d done to upset him.

"But it wasn’t me at all. It was her. She was the evil one that pushed him into it. And I lied for her. I was so scared. I’ve been terrified of her ever since. It made no sense. It was more like a phobia than a reasonable fear. Rationally, I knew she hadn’t killed him. But deep inside me, I was always scared that if I ever disobeyed her, I’d end up like him. I’d die too.

"So when I finally reached my limit, when I went out that night in Vegas to find myself a husband, it was...it was like my suicide mission. She’d pushed me to the brink and I was just as desperate to self-destruct as my father had been."

She stopped talking; he had a feeling she was done. Still lightly stroking her arm, Cam closed his eyes and pressed his nose against her hair, inhaling her familiar fragrance. "She’s never going to hurt you again, Livy," he murmured.

She nodded and reached out to press her hand against his chest, directly over his heart. Unable to stop himself, he covered it with his palm, lacing their fingers together. They lay that way for nearly half an hour, soaking up each other’s silent comfort.

It surprised him when her quiet voice filled the room. "Cameron?"

His eyelashes fluttered open. "Hmm?"

"Not once in those few seconds before he killed himself did he look at me." Her voice was blank, probably numb to the pain. "I’m not even sure if he knew I was in the room. No, actually, now that I think of it, I’m sure he did know. He just didn’t care. He didn’t say anything to me or act concerned about how any of this would affect me." She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes large and pleading. "His blood splattered all over me when he died, and he probably didn’t even care about that either."