“Sofia?”
Nikki whispered the word, her voice full of pain. Damien ripped his attention away from the horrific image on the screen to find Nikki looking back at him, her haunted eyes breaking his heart. He took a step forward, as much to soothe as to be soothed, but she backed away, her hand up as if to ward him off.
“Nikki—”
“No.” She licked her lips, her eyes darting around the room. “Just, no.” For a moment she stood frozen, then she released a shaky breath. “You told me we could trust her,” she whispered. “That she was better. You promised me that, and then she went and destroyed my office? Called me a bitch?”
The words, so horrible and true, sliced his heart wide open. He wanted to scream an apology. To beg her forgiveness.
But he just stood there, shattering under the force of his failure, as she turned and hurried away.
Chapter Twenty
It might have been an eternity, or perhaps it was only an instant. Damien didn’t know. All he knew was that he’d stood there, useless, as Nikki left, leaving her tattered trust behind.
On his other side, Quincy bit out a curse. Damien barely heard it. He knew he needed to go to Nikki—needed to hold his wife in his arms and let her cry and grieve. He knew that—but goddamn it, how the hell could he do it, knowing that he was the one who had caused her pain? That she’d run from him when she was hurting, instead of into his arms.
“I need to check on her.” He said the words to no one in particular, then started toward the master bedroom, assuming that’s where she’d gone. He didn’t make it, though. He was brought to a stop by the quick, firm tug on the back of his shirt.
He turned to find Jamie shaking her head. “Let her go, okay? Just give her a few minutes to let it all settle. Seriously, D. It’ll be okay. But that bitch has been a thorn in her side from the beginning.”
“That’s why I need—”
“No. You don’t.”
“Goddammit, Jamie. You can’t—”
“She’s right.” Ryan’s voice was soft but firm. “She’s not saying forever, she’s just saying for now. Give Nikki some time to figure out how she even feels.”
He looked around the room, one of the few times he’d ever felt helpless. And he damn sure didn’t like the feeling. “Well?” he demanded, when Evelyn came over, his pain reflected right there on her face.
“You don’t need me chiming in. You already know they’re right.”
“Fuck.” In his head, the word came out loud and biting—a curse against himself, against the world, and most of all against Sofia. In reality, it was barely audible, and he sank back into one of the desk chairs, wondering when in the hell everything around him had begun to spin out of his control.
“I’m so sorry, Stark. I bollucksed that all up.”
“What?” Damien turned to Quincy. “What are you talking about?”
“I gave Sofia the polygraph, but I only asked baseline questions and then questions about the kidnapping. I didn’t ask about the vandalism at Nikki’s office. Didn’t even occur to me.”
Damien reached around with one hand and massaged his aching neck. “It’s not your fault. That wasn’t even on the menu. We didn’t have any reason to think the kidnapping was related to the vandalism. Still don’t.” He rolled his head, trying to release the tension. “It’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault.”
Quincy studied him for a moment as if uncertain. Then he settled into the chair next to Damien and leaned forward on the desk, his chin propped on his hand. “Why would she do this?”
So many reasons, Damien thought. Every one of which he’d foolishly believed had been relegated to the past or dealt with in her treatments. “Jealousy, for one. I have my kids. My family. And she doesn’t have me. Plus, she had a miscarriage recently. That was probably a trigger.”
“She’s in love with you,” Evelyn said. “She always has been. I’m sure she knows what she did was wrong, but her feelings got the better of her.”
“Got the better of her?” Jamie repeated. “I thought she was supposed to be all sane and stable now. Clean bill of mental health and all that.”
“Maybe she is,” Ollie said, returning from the kitchen with a basket of muffins. Behind him, Bree led Kari down the stairs.
“Um, hello? News flash. She totally tagged Nikki’s office.” Jamie looked to Ryan. “Right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said. “But I’ve been around long enough to know that she’s smart. IQ off the charts, right?”
Damien nodded.
“So why didn’t she pull the security feed from Nikki’s building? She had to know it was there?”
“Maybe she knew she couldn’t be identified,” Ollie suggested. “The angle’s wrong. That’s why we couldn’t get her face until we got the security vids from the alley.”
Quincy nodded. “All true. But if the second lobby camera had been working, we would have been able to identify her on day one.”
“That’s true,” Damien said. “She must not have known about the cameras.”
“Maybe she’s the one who tampered with the second camera,” Jamie said. “Because that was the one that would show her face.”
Ryan shook his head. “It was out for over a week before the vandalism.”
Jamie shrugged. “So? Maybe she planned it. I mean, remember what happened after Germany? She befriended Nikki using a fake name so she could toy with her and make her cut.”
“A fake name?” Quincy asked.
“It was freaky,” Jamie told him. “She had this whole persona going. I mean, she practically became Monika Karts. An actress, I think. Someone working in Hollywood. And she hung out in this coffee shop that Nikki used to go to on Ventura Boulevard, just down the street from her first office. And they got to talking. Nikki genuinely liked her. And then one day she goes to Nikki’s office, supposedly for some friendly get together, and instead she dumps out all these seriously disturbing photos of Sofia and Damien. Then she gives her this antique scalpel set and—”
“That’s enough,” Ryan said, his eyes on Damien.
“It’s okay,” Damien said, shaking off the memory of that horrible time when he came so close to losing Nikki.
“Sorry.” Jamie winced. “It’s only that—well, all I’m saying is that Sofia’s a woman who can handle some long-term planning.”
“She was messed up back then,” Damien said. “Really sick. And that’s not her anymore.” He drew a breath, hoping that was true. He believed it. The doctors believed it. But was it r
ight?
“Are you sure?” Jamie asked, voicing Damien’s own doubts.
He shoved the doubt away. “I am,” he said, with as much force as he could manage. “She’s been under the care of the best doctors for years, and they all signed off on how well she’s doing. She’s gone through a twelve-step program. She’s doing okay.”
“Um, did you miss the part about the vandalism?”
“That doesn’t mean she’s unstable or crazy,” Ollie put in. “Maybe that’s who she is.”
Damien shot him a hard glance. “What are you talking about?”
Ollie shrugged. “People do stupid shit. They throw things. They have screaming fights. They cheat on their girlfriends. Some of them probably get pissed off at people they love and then pull out a spray paint can. That doesn’t mean they need to be institutionalized. Maybe it just means they need to talk it out with whoever they’re pissed off at.”
“He’s right,” Evelyn said. “I won’t deny Sofia has problems—we both know the hell she survived. But she’s worked hard to get her head on straight again. I think this is a blip. Not a relapse. At least,” she added, “I want to believe it is.”
“Believe me, so do I.” Damien rubbed his temples, trying to grab on to the small threads of hope that Evelyn and Ollie had dangled.
“What are you going to do?” Quincy asked.
It was the right question, because the truth was, Damien needed action. He needed to move. To do. He needed to fix what could be fixed.
He needed to grab some semblance of control in a situation where there was no real control to be had.
What was that saying? Fake it until you make it?
Right now, that’s exactly what he felt like he was doing.
“First, I’m going to call the UK and speak to her doctor, just to confirm what we’ve been saying. Then I’m going to go see Sofia. Talk to her. Tell her I know and get her to tell me what was in her head.” He drew in a breath. “I’m going to arrange for her to pay reparations—and then I’m putting her on a plane back to London.”