For the Sake of Their Son (The Alpha Brotherhood #5)(37)
Author: Catherine Mann

She slid off him, the cooling breeze from the fan chilling her bared flesh. “Do whatever you want.”

“What did I say wrong? You want me to quit and I offer and now you’re angry?”

“I didn’t say I want you to quit.” She opted for the simpler answer. “I understand how important your career is to you. You have a competitive nature and that’s not a bad thing. It’s made you an incredibly successful man.”

“You mentioned my competitiveness earlier. Lucy Ann, that’s not why I—”

She rolled to her side and pressed her fingers to his mouth before he could get back to the proposal subject again. “You’ve channeled your edginess and your drive to win. That’s not a bad thing.” She tapped his bottom lip. “Enough talk. You should rest up now so you’re focused for the race.”

And so she could escape to her room, away from the building temptation to take what he offered and worry about the consequences later. Except with Elliot’s muscled arm draped over her waist, she couldn’t quite bring herself to move out of his embrace. His hand moved along her back soothingly. Slowly, her body began to relax, melting into the fantastic mattress.

“Lucy Ann? You’re right, you know.” Elliot’s words were so low she almost didn’t hear him.

“Right about what?” she asked, groggy, almost asleep.

“I like to win— Wait. Scratch that. I need to win.”

Opening her eyes, she didn’t move, just stared at his chest and listened. There was no escaping this conversation. Wherever it led them.

“There are two kinds of people in the world. Ones who have known physical pain and those who never will. Being beaten…” He swallowed hard, his heart hammering so loudly she could feel her pulse sync up with his, racing, knowing just what that word beating meant to him growing up. “That does something to your soul. Changes you. You can heal. You can move on. But you’re forever changed by that moment you finally break, crying for it to stop.”

His voice stayed emotionless, but what he said sliced through her all the more because of the steely control he forced on himself.

Her hand fluttered to rest on his heart as she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Oh, God, Elliot—”

“Don’t speak. Not yet.” He linked his fingers with hers. “The thing is, we all like to think we’re strong enough to hold out when that person brings on the belt, the shoe, the branch, or hell, even a hand used as a weapon. And there’s a rush in holding out at first, deluding yourself into believing you can actually win.”

She willed herself to stay completely still, barely breathing, while he poured out the truth she’d always known. She’d even seen the marks he’d refused to acknowledge. Hearing him talk about it, though, shredded her heart, every revelation making her ache for what he’d suffered growing up. She also knew he wouldn’t accept her sympathy now any more than he had then. So she gave him the only thing she could―total silence while he spoke.

“The person with the weapon is after one thing,” he shared, referring to his father in such a vague sense as if that gave him distance, protection. “It isn’t actually about the pain. It’s about submission.”

She couldn’t hold back the flinch or a whimper of sympathy.

Elliot tipped her chin until she looked at him. “But you see, it’s okay now. When I’m out there racing, it’s my chance to win. No one, not one damn soul, will ever beat me again.”

She held her breath, wrestling with what to do next, how they could go forward. This wasn’t the time to pledge futures, but it also wasn’t the time to walk away. Growing up, she’d always known how to be there for him. At this moment, she didn’t have a clue.

The squawk of their son over the nursery monitor jolted them both. And she wasn’t sure who was more relieved.

Her or Elliot.

* * *

Elliot barely tasted the gourmet brunch catered privately at a crowded café near the race day venue. With two hundred thousand people pouring into the small principality for the circuit’s most famous event, there were fans and media everywhere. At least his friends and mentor seemed to be enjoying themselves. He wanted to chalk up his lack of enthusiasm to sleep deprivation.

Race day in Monaco had always been one of Elliot’s favorites, from the way the sun glinted just right off the streets to the energy of the crowds. The circuit was considered one of the most challenging Formula One routes—narrow roads, tight turns and changing elevations made it all the more exciting, edgy, demanding.

And just that fast, Lucy Ann’s words haunted him, how she’d accused him of searching out challenges. How she’d accused him of seeing her as a challenge. Damn it all, he just wanted them to build a future together.

What would she be thinking, sitting in the stands today with his school friends and their wives?

He glanced at her across the table, strain showing in the creases along her forehead and the dark smudges under her eyes. He wanted to take Eli from her arms so she could rest, but wasn’t sure if she would object. He didn’t want to cause a scene or upset her more.

With a mumbled excuse, he scraped back his chair and left the table. He needed air. Space.

He angled his way out of the room—damn, he had too many curious friends these days—and into the deserted patio garden in the back. All the patrons had flocked out front to the street side to watch the crowds already claiming their places to watch the race. But back here, olive trees and rosebushes packed the small space so densely he almost didn’t see his old high school headmaster—now an Interpol handler—sitting on a bench sending text messages.

Colonel Salvatore sat beside his preteen son, who was every bit as fixated on his Game Boy as his father was on his phone. A couple of empty plates rested between them.

How had he missed them leaving the table? Damn, his mind wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Colonel Salvatore stood, mumbled something to his son, then walked toward Elliot without once looking up from his phone. The guy always had been the master of multitasking. Very little slipped by him. Ever.

The older man finally tucked away his cell phone and nodded. “We couldn’t sit still,” he said diplomatically, “so we’re out here playing ‘Angry Monkeys’ or something like that.”

“I’m sure you both enjoyed the food more here where it’s quieter,” he said diplomatically. “I could sure use parenting advice if you’ve got some to offer up.”