She said it like it was obvious, something that everyone knew. Except he didn’t. It had become clear early on to him that he could never expect anything from his parents. His mother hadn’t been able to leave his stepfather because of her debts. And his real father . . . Fuck, his father hadn’t even acknowledged his existence until Nero had been discovered and the media went apeshit, forcing Cesare into a response.
Nero hadn’t been upset by that. His mother had no money and needed his stepfather to help her, and as for his actual father, well sure, he was angry that the guy had known about him yet hadn’t ever come looking for him. But he wasn’t upset. And he certainly didn’t hope for more because what more was there?
Phoebe’s forehead creased. “You do know what I mean, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do,” he lied, irritated with himself that he didn’t understand. “But you shouldn’t care about what they think. Why should you when they don’t care about you?”
Her gaze dropped to her glass again. “Mum kept telling me I wasn’t a replacement for Lily. But sometimes, when she was very upset, she’d drop comments along the lines of how I’d never take her place or why couldn’t I be more like her? Or how much better everything would be if she was alive today . . .” Phoebe stopped. “Is our dinner coming soon, do you think?”
It was a blatant change of subject but this time Nero knew why. This whole conversation was upsetting her. She loved her parents, that was obvious, and it was just as obvious that they didn’t deserve her love. They’d lost a child, but even so, they had a child right in front of them. A generous, warm, giving child who from the sounds of it only wanted to make them happy.
And they’d ignored her.
Anger coiled tight inside him, and he found himself reaching for the glass in her hand, taking it from her, and putting it on the coffee table. Then he took her face between his hands, turning her resolutely back to him and looking into her lovely brown eyes. He didn’t know what to say to her, but he had to say something. “They don’t deserve you,” he said fiercely. “Not your mother or your father. No, you weren’t the daughter they lost, but you’re still their daughter. They shouldn’t have said those things to you. They shouldn’t have hurt you.”
She blinked. “I’m not hurt.”
“You are. I can see it in your face.” And he could. It was obvious to him now. Just like it was obvious that she was trying to hide it. “And I think you don’t want to care, but you do.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, her gaze flickering away from his before coming back. “It’s silly,” she said thickly. “I shouldn’t let it get to me. Lily was my sister, and of course my parents loved her. Of course, they grieved over her. But . . .” She trailed off.
“But you wish they saw you, not her,” he finished.
Those lovely eyes of hers came sharply back to his, and she just looked at him in silence for a long moment. And he saw, with a sudden jolt, the glint of tears. “Yes.” Her voice was little more than a scrape. “That’s exactly what I wish.”
His chest tightened, and he wanted to say something more, something that would make it better, take away her tears. Because Phoebe crying felt wrong on just about every level there was. But he couldn’t think of the right thing. He’d never had to comfort anyone before, and he didn’t know how to do it.
So all he said was “I see you, Phoebe. I see you.”
A tear slipped out and slid down her cheek, and he thought maybe he’d said the wrong thing. But then she rose up and kissed him, warm and open-mouthed and sweet. And he thought that maybe he hadn’t said the wrong thing after all.
At that moment, James arrived with apologies for being late, not that Nero had noticed, bustling in through the doorway to collect the plates with the cold food on them, and Phoebe pulled abruptly away, flushing bright red and obviously embarrassed to be caught kissing him.
Nero didn’t give a shit. He pulled her into his arms, holding her there as James moved about, gathering the plates before leaving the room. If the old man had noticed Nero holding her, he gave no sign. Which was exactly what Nero paid him for.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Phoebe said, even as the resistance bled out of her and she relaxed against his chest. “It’s not a good look for me to be seen like this with you.”
“James doesn’t care, and, anyway, I pay him to be discreet.”
Nero had never held anyone before, not like this, and he decided he very much liked it. Having her warmth and her soft weight against him made him feel like a lion with a kill. Christ, if anyone tried to take her away from him, he’d probably bite their head off.
“You’re my boss, though.”
“Yeah, and?” He tightened his arms around her. “Tell me more about you.”
She put her head against his shoulder, the red-gold silk of her hair trailing all over his white shirt like spilled brandy, angling her face so she was looking up at him. “I think I’ve said quite enough about me. Do I get to hear why you lit all the candles in here and got the chef to make my favorite dinner?”
It pleased him that she’d noticed. “Because I thought you might like them, that’s all.”
Her mouth curved. “I do like them. How did you know the steak was my favorite?”
“It wasn’t hard. I asked the chef.”
“And the candles? I hope James didn’t have to go far for them.”
Something about the sentence jolted him. The assumption that he’d sent James rather than getting them himself, maybe?
You couldn’t have gotten them yourself. And she knows that.
“James does what I pay him to do.” The words came out as a growl.
Phoebe’s gaze flickered.
There was a moment’s silence.
Then she said, very carefully, “You always get other people to get things for you, don’t you?”
Something unsettled twisted inside him. “I’m very busy.” He couldn’t keep the slight edge from his voice. “I don’t have time to do a lot of things myself.”
“Of course.” She looked down at his chest and put her hand on it, stroking him with her thumb through the cotton of his shirt, the way she had earlier that day. Soothing him. “Did you think about going to look for me? This afternoon, I mean.”
“I was just about to send James around the hospitals, so yes.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her lashes rose, her clear gaze looking into his. “I mean, did you think about going to look for me.”
He didn’t quite understand what she was getting at. “What do you mean?”
“You were worried about me.” She said it like it was a fact. “But you didn’t go out to look yourself.”
A cold sliver of awareness slid down his spine, but he resolutely ignored it. “I wasn’t worried.”
“Then why were you so angry?”
“Because I couldn’t get hold of you.” The words sounded hollow for some reason, which made him irritable. “And I’m paying you to be available 24/7. I don’t like wasting my money.”
Her attention remained on his chest, her hair a curtain around her lovely face. “So that’s all I am to you? A waste of money?”
“No, that’s not what I said.” He scowled and tightened his arm around her, pressing her more firmly too him. “I don’t like not getting what I want when I want it, especially when I’m paying for it. And you weren’t there where I wanted you.”
She didn’t say anything, only nodded her head as if accepting this.
His irritation deepened, though he wasn’t sure why. “What are you trying to say, Phoebe?”
There was another moment of silence
“You see me, Nero. But . . .” She lifted her head and looked at him. “I don’t see you. And I’d like to.”
The unsettled feeling wound deeper, the awareness he tried never, ever to think about, shifting inside him. “But you do.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me about you, Nero.” The stroking thumb paused. “Tell me why you can’t walk down your hallway without breaking into a sweat. Tell me why you never leave your house.”
* * *
Phoebe’s heart was beating very fast and she knew as soon as she’d said the words, she shouldn’t have. Because the expression on Nero’s face abruptly hardened, every muscle in his body tensing.
You’re an idiot. You shouldn’t have opened your stupid mouth.
No and now she’d destroyed this moment. A moment that had turned out to be the last thing she’d expected when she’d walked through the door of her sitting room to find Nero standing by the window.
She’d never spoken to anyone about her parents, about Lily and her fears that she was only ever a poor substitute for the daughter they’d lost. She hadn’t even realized it herself until she’d told Nero. She still wasn’t sure why she had, either. He’d been looking at her with those dark eyes, his focus so intense, as if what she said mattered to him very much. And it had just come out.
She’d felt ridiculous afterward, preparing herself for him not to understand, because there seemed to be so much that he didn’t. Yet he’d taken her face in his hands and told her he saw her.