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She sighs. “There was a woman. Juliette Morin. She was an attaché to some diplomat—Hector never said who—but she was always around when he came back from ‘business trips.’ She knew things, Nick. She wasn’t just some mistress.”
Juliette Morin. That’s a name I know.
I push up from my chair, pacing. “If she’s connected to the diplomatic channels Hector’s been using, we need to find her. Fast.”
Cherise nods, but she’s distant now, staring at nothing.
“Talk to me,” I say, softer now.
She blinks, like she’s remembering I’m here. “It doesn’t matter.”
I cross the space between us, crouching so I’m at her level. “Everything matters.”
Her eyes flash, something wounded hiding behind the walls she’s thrown up. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
The words seem to have to claw their way out. “You’re asking me to dig through the worst years of my life. To remember every moment I spent trying to convince myself that I wasn’t suffocating, that Hector wasn’t breaking me piece by piece.”
I inhale slowly, forcing my hands to remain at my sides. “Tell me.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Hector never needed to hit me, Nick. He was smarter than that. He made me feel like I was nothing without him. Like I should be grateful he let me stay, let me breathe in his world. Every time I questioned something, he reminded me how easily I could be replaced. How I was just another accessory to him.”
My gut twists—the bastard.
“I lost myself,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “And I let it happen. I let him take me apart.”
I reach for her before I can stop myself, gripping her wrist, pulling her close enough that she has to look at me. “He didn’t take you apart, Cherise. He didn’t break you. You got out.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t feel like I did.”
I tighten my grip, just enough to make her feel it. “You’re here. You came to me. That means you fought your way back.” Her lips tremble, and I know she’s close to breaking. I lift her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze. “He doesn’t own you anymore, sweetheart. He never did.”
She stills for a moment, and I think she’s going to fall into me. But then she straightens, pulling herself back together.
“I just… I don’t want to be that weak again,” she whispers.
I bite back a snarl. “You were never weak. Hector manipulated you. Controlled you. But he didn’t break you, Cherise. And I swear to God, I’ll make sure he never gets the chance to try again.”
A silence stretches between us, filled with memory and loss.
Then she whispers, “Why do you care so much?”
I freeze. Because I don’t have a simple answer to that question. Why do I care? Because she was mine, once. Because I spent years wanting her, only to realize that want was nothing more than grief in disguise. Because when she looks at me like this—like I’m the only person in the world who can make her feel safe—I know I’ll burn the world down to keep her from being afraid.
I lean in, my lips just brushing her ear. “Because you matter, Cherise. You always have.”
She shudders, and for the first time since she walked back into my life, I let myself believe she might actually learn to trust me again. I wonder if I can do the same. But trust won’t keep either of us alive.
I step back, running a hand through my hair. “We need to get moving. I’ll have Logan track down Juliette Morin. You stay here.”
She glares, fire flashing in her green eyes. “Nick...”
“No,” I cut her off. “This isn’t a debate, Cherise. You stay, you keep your head down and let me handle this.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “You think you can just decide that for me?”
“Yes.”