Chapter 245.

He did.

They reached the stairs.

The noise began to fade behind them, though the shouting continued, rising and falling through the open doorway.

Kylie kept her eyes on the steps.

She couldn’t look back. She couldn’t look at Christian’s hands, or the blood on his shirt, and the place where Ben had been lying.

She just needed to get out.

Christian stayed beside her.

He simply let her hold on to his arm and followed her up the stairs. When they reached the top, the night air struck her face.

Kylie stopped.

She sucked in a breath.

It didn’t feel like enough.

The street was quieter than the basement, but it wasn’t silent. Cars moved along the road. A group of people stood outside a nearby shop. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded.

She looked at Christian.

His face was flushed. Blood ran from his nose, and his cheek was already beginning to swell.

His breathing was uneven.

His hands were trembling slightly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he said, very quietly, "Blue."

She shook her head.

His expression changed. He took a careful breath and lowered his voice even further.

"All right."

After a moment, she reached for his hand. When she saw the blood on his knuckles, she flinched.

Christian noticed.

He immediately opened his fingers, showing her that he wasn’t going to close them around hers.

"It’s all right," he said.

She stared at his hand. "No, it’s not."

He looked down at it. Then back at her. "No," he agreed softly. "It’s not."

She swallowed. "We need to leave."

"Okay."

"Now."

"Okay, Blue."

"I can’t drive, and neither can you." She pulled out her phone with shaking fingers.

The screen blurred. She tried to unlock it, and missed. She tried again.

Christian stood beside her, saying nothing.

When she finally managed to call a car, she gave the location in a voice that barely sounded like hers.

Then she ended the call and looked up at him.

He was watching her.

She reached for his arm again.b"Come on."

He nodded. They moved away from the entrance and toward the quieter end of the street.

Kylie didn’t let go of him.

They waited beneath the awning of a closed shop.

Christian leaned against the wall, his head tipped back slightly as he pressed a clean handkerchief against his nose.

Kylie stood in front of him.

She had no idea what to do with herself. She wanted to check his face. She wanted to ask whether he was hurt.

She wanted to scream at him for beating Ben until he was bleeding on the floor. She wanted to thank him for stepping between them.

She wanted to tell him everything. She also wanted to tell him nothing.

The feelings crowded together until she couldn’t separate one from another.

Christian lowered the handkerchief. "Are you hurt?"

She stared at him.

The question was so unexpected that she almost laughed.

"No, dumbhead."

He looked at her carefully. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

He didn’t appear convinced, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he lifted the handkerchief again and pressed it against his nose.

Kylie watched the movement. "You’re bleeding."

He lowered the handkerchief. "Sorry."

She folded her arms across her chest. Then unfolded them, and wrapped them around herself.

Christian noticed. He pushed away from the wall. His hands were open at his sides.

Kylie swallowed.

He stepped toward her slowly. She closed the distance herself. Her arms went around his waist.

He held her gently, careful not to press his injured hand against her back.

For a few seconds, she stood there with her face against his chest.

His shirt smelled of his cologne, sweat, and the faint metallic scent of blood.

She closed her eyes.

He lowered his head, and swallowed. "I’m here," he murmured. "I’m sorry."

Her fingers tightened against his shirt when she felt his adam apple as he swallowed. Her body was still shaking.

Her mind was still crowded with memories she did not want.

Christian’s lips brushed her hair. "Whenever you’re ready," he whispered.

She nodded against him.

She wasn’t ready. Not yet.

The car arrived a few minutes later.

Christian opened the rear door, then stepped aside so Kylie could get in first. She paused when she saw the blood on his hand.

He noticed. "Blue."

She looked up at him.

"It’s fine."

"No, it isn’t."

He held her gaze. "We can deal with it later."

She swallowed.

Then she climbed into the car.

Christian followed her and gave the driver their destination.

The door closed.

The city moved past the windows.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Kylie sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Christian sat beside her, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the handkerchief against his nose.

He wanted to ask questions.

He wanted to know who Ben was.

He wanted to know why the man had called her a liar and a slut, and why Kylie had looked as though she could barely stand.

He wanted to know what had happened before he met her.

But he had watched her at the top of those stairs.

He had seen the effort it took her to breathe.

He had heard the desperation in her voice when she told him to stop.

He knew that whatever had happened in that room was not something he could demand from her.

So he waited.

After a while, Kylie moved.

Her fingers reached for his uninjured hand.

He turned his palm upward.

She slid her hand into his.

They sat like that for several minutes.

Then she whispered, "I’m sorry."

Christian turned toward her.

"For what?"

She stared at their joined hands.

"Your face."

He blinked.

Then he laughed once, softly, in disbelief.

"You’re apologising for my face?"

She nodded.

"Kylie."

She looked up.

"Blue, I punched a man in the face. Several times, actually. I think my face can survive the consequences."

Her mouth trembled.

It wasn’t quite a smile.

He squeezed her hand gently.

"Don’t apologise for what happened tonight."

She looked away.

He waited.

After a moment, she whispered, "You didn’t know."

He went still.

The words had been so quiet that he almost missed them.

"What?"

She swallowed.

"You didn’t know who he was."

Christian studied her face.

"No," he said. "I didn’t."

She nodded, staring at the window.

For a moment, she looked as though she might say more.

Then her mouth closed.

Christian turned his hand beneath hers, letting their fingers fit together more comfortably.

"All right."

She looked at him.

"That’s all?"

"For now."

Her eyes filled.

He frowned slightly.

"What’s wrong?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing."

He didn’t argue with her answer.

He simply lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Kylie stared at him.

Then she turned toward the window again.

She couldn’t explain it.

She couldn’t explain why the absence of questions hurt almost as much as the questions she was afraid he would ask.

She couldn’t explain why she wanted him to know and wanted him never to find out.

She couldn’t explain why being believed by someone who didn’t know the whole story felt more frightening than being disbelieved by someone who had heard it.

She only knew that Christian had looked at Ben and seen enough to understand that something was wrong.

He had not needed her to prove it.

He had not asked what she had done to provoke him.

He had not wondered whether she was telling the truth.

He had simply stepped between them.

And when she had asked him to stop, he had stopped.

That mattered.

It mattered more than she knew how to say.

She turned back toward him.

"Christian?"

He looked at her immediately.

"Yes, Blue?"

She hesitated.

Then she squeezed his hand.

"Thank you."

His expression softened.

He lifted their joined hands and kissed her fingers again.

"You’re welcome, Blue."

She leaned against his shoulder.

He shifted closer, allowing her to settle against him without pressing her into place.

His arm rested around her carefully.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive.

But when the car turned onto the road leading to his penthouse, Kylie found herself holding his hand a little more tightly.

And Christian, who had spent the evening watching her laugh and dance and shout at a boxing match, understood that something had changed.

He did not know what.

He did not know why.

But he knew the man in that basement had brought a kind of fear into Kylie that she had never shown him before.

And he knew he would not forget it.

Not the way she had gone still.

Not the way she had flinched when Ben touched her.

Not the sound of her voice when she told him to stop.

He had thrown the first punch because a stranger had called the woman he loved a lying slut.

He had kept going because he had been furious.

But the moment Kylie had grabbed his arm and looked at him with those frightened eyes, the fight had stopped being about Ben.

It had become about getting her out.

He looked down at her.

Her eyes were closed.

She wasn’t asleep.

He could tell by the way her fingers moved restlessly against his.

He lowered his head and kissed her hair.

"You’re safe with me," he whispered.

Kylie went very still.

For one awful second, he thought he had said the wrong thing. Then she turned her face into his shoulder, and held his shoulders tight.