Chapter Seven: Demons.

The song for this chapter is Demons by Imagine Dragons.

Fitz POV

"Good morning, sleepy head," Fitz leaned in for a kiss.

"Hmm," Olivia stirred. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after 8:30."

Olivia jolted. "What? Oh, no. We won't be able to make it!

He and Olivia had planned on attending the rugby tournament that was taking place on the island. They had made love all night and fell asleep around 3 am. And Fitz didn't wake her when the alarm went off. He figured Olivia needed her beauty sleep more than she needed entertainment.

"You looked so peaceful... I didn't want to wake you," he said, kissing her earlobe.

"Oh, Fitz!" she complained. "I really wanted to go," she said, making a beeline for the restroom.

She came out a few minutes later, dressed in a cute sleeveless top and yoga pants.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize it meant so much to you."

"You gotta stop trying to predict what I want and then deciding for me. That's not how it works in a marriage."

Fitz frowned. It wasn't the first time he'd been accused of ignoring other people's feelings. He didn't set out to act maliciously, he was used to making decisions on his own without consulting anyone in his personal circle. But right now, he wasn't acting as Tesla's CEO. He was just a man on his honeymoon.

In his defense, it wasn't until this moment that he realized his mistake. Olivia saw his actions as overcontrolling. It was for this exact reason that she had divorced Jose.

Olivia drew the curtains, revealing a breathtaking view of the wooden deck and long stretches of powdery white sand and turquoise waters. They were on the private island of Vomo in Fiji. Arriving here had been an adventure in itself. After arriving at Fiji's international airport, they traveled 45 miles by car, followed by a speedboat.

Several smaller beaches surrounded the island and the rugged Mt Vomo, which rose majestically on the Eastern side. The mountain promised a breathtaking 360-degree view to those who bravely conquered its height.

The newlyweds were looking forward to hiking the famous mountain and witnessing the mesmerizing sunrise from the top. From the moment he arrived, Fitz felt free. For the first time in forever, he didn't have to worry about bodyguards, or the paparazzi, or about being recognized.

...

They ordered room service and then went for a walk after breakfast. Fitz wore a white t-shirt and multi-pocket cargo pants.

They walked off to the beach, holding hands. They discarded their sandals once they got closer to the water's edge. Water splashed toward them with the tide, and they jumped to get out of its path. They continued sand hopping and splashing one another and laughing.

After about an hour, they decided to return to their cottage as the sun started burning.

"Race you, " Olivia said with a wink.

"Sure," he replied smugly, "I'll give you a headstart."

"I don't need a headstart, Fitz. I was in the track team."

"I have longer legs."

"On the count of three."

"Okay."

They laughed while they ran all the way back to the cottage. Fitz couldn't believe she beat him fair and square. She reached the front door well before him, shoved it open, slamming it behind her. Fitz caught up with her a second or two after the door self-locked.

Dammit, he thought, searching for his card key. Much to his chagrin, he realized he'd left his key and phone inside.

He banged on the door with his fists. Nothing. She must have gone straight to the shower and couldn't hear him.

Minutes passed. Fitz grew more and more anxious. He walked the perimeter of the cabin several times and counted backward from two hundred to distract himself.

Completely exhausted, Fitz fell to his knees on the coarse sand. The constant calling of the seagulls overhead mocking him.

He had no idea how much time passed. The midday sun beat on his head, burning the back of his neck. His pale skin wasn't used to exposure. Sweat started forming under his armpits, and his knees felt the burn, the light fabric offering little protection.

Once or twice, he looked out over the waves, squinting at the light bouncing off the sand.

At last, Olivia finally opened the door and found him kneeling in the sand, head hanging low.

"Fitz? Fitz? What are you doing?"

He looked up. It took him a few moments to regain his bearings and rise.

"You locked me out."

"Wh-what?"

"I didn't take my phone or keys."

Olivia's hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Oh, Fitz, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

He dashed inside the cabin and started pacing nervously back and forth across the room.

"Fitz, talk to me. You're shaking."

"You locked me out, what do you expect?" He nearly shouted.

Olivia's eyes widened. "Fitz, you clearly have issues. I already apologized. Do you think I did this on purpose?"

Fitz went to the mini bar for a glass of scotch and swallowed its contents in one gulp.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that."

"And I'm sorry. I should have checked on you sooner. I took extra long in the shower," she said remorsefully, throwing her arms around his neck. "You were out there a long time. I can only imagine how you felt..."

Before he knew it, the secret he had held for so long came tumbling out of his lips like a runaway train.

"He used to lock me out to punish me."

"What? Who?"

"My dad...my adopted dad used to lock me out of the house at night, and I had to sleep on the porch."

"Wh-what?" Olivia guided him to sit with her on the couch.

"It was his way of punishing me," he replied, running a hand over his head.

"Why? Where was your mother?"

Fitz shrugged. His list of sins included behaviors his father found odd, obsessive, or unacceptable such as repeatedly watching the same movies or TV shows ( without ever growing tired of them) or spending all his free time drawing car engines down to their most intricate details.

"Your mom?" She reiterated. Why didn't she let you back in the house?"

But perhaps the thing that angered his father the most was Fitz's need for control or sameness. He so wanted to hide the truth.

"The man was an alcoholic...and my mother was his shadow, too scared to make a stance," he said bitterly, holding her gaze before breaking eye contact. "She remained in her room, hiding."

For one breathless moment, both pondered what he had just revealed.

I want to hide the truth

I want to shelter you

But with the beast inside

There's nowhere we can hide.

"But," Olivia reached for his hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "I thought you said she homeschooled you."

"She did."

"I thought...well, you..." she paused, flustered. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

The truth was it was too painful to talk about. He never discussed his painful childhood with anyone, not even with Alina; especially not with Alina, who had it better than he did.

"My father hated me. He took every opportunity to beat me," Fitz said, his gaze fixated on the wall behind Olivia. "I remember being four years old and hiding from him in the hallway closet, too scared to breathe. I would wait there for hours, sneak out to go to the bathroom, and hide again...until Alina came home from school to come out. He was usually on his best behavior when Alina was around. He was a monster, Livvie. And I'm named after him, I'm named after a monster."

Olivia's eyes filled with tears. "My God, Fitz, don't say that. You're nothing like him!" She came around his chair for a hug, and he pulled her onto his lap. Her hand rested on his chest.

When you feel my heat

Look into my eyes

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide.

Fitz let out a sigh of relief and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled closer and buried in the crook of his neck. Now that the secret was out, it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. However, he shouldn't let his guard down. She didn't know the whole story. If she knew the reason his father hated him so much, she would be disappointed in him.

"How many times did this happen...him locking you out of the house like that? How about your neighbors?"

"We lived in a secluded house with a gate. As you know, my adoptive parents came from money. The servants were instructed to ignore my cries. Although, I guess sometimes they brought me some water or a blanket on cold nights. I supposed it happened...maybe once a month or something like that."

Fitz shuddered. Physically, he felt his throat parched and his stomach growling as though he hadn't eaten in ages. It was as if he was four years old all over again, scared that the boogeyman was out to get him. If he could talk to his younger self right now, he would explain that the monster lived inside the house, not outside as he feared.

Olivia turned to peck his lips, holding his face in her hands. "I can't imagine what you must have gone through as a child."

"I should have stopped him," Fitz said, full of self-reproach. "When I was old enough, I mean. But I didn't. It continued..." Fitz trailed off, gripped by the memories.

"No. Fitz. You were only a kid."

"I could have reported him to the police, but I was too much of a coward. That's the truth. It's because of me that he drank himself to death."

Technically, Fitzgerald II had killed himself and his wife while driving under the influence, but deep down Fitz still believed it was his fault.

"Fitz! Look at me! That's not fair. You shouldn't blame yourself!"

Fitz heard the words but refused to believe them.

"He always said I was a disappointment...that I didn't have what it takes."

Olivia gasped and shook her head. "That's exactly how Papa made me feel. But he was wrong, just like your father was wrong about you. Look what you've become! You have a magnificent mind, Fitzgerald, you're a visionary who thinks outside the box in a world intent on getting people to conform to certain standards."

Fitz smiled sheepishly. In her eyes, he saw boundless, extraordinary love.

He really didn't know how to accept a compliment. He HAD to make a name for himself, he had to strike gold. Above all, He had to show THEM. He had to show HIM He'd been wrong in calling him stupid. He had to show HER she had not wasted her time teaching him about finances and investments (her only redeeming quality was that she had taught him well).

His path to success arose when he started his own publishing platform managing websites for small businesses. From there, the opportunity to become Tesla's major investor fell on his lap. He'd been fortunate, yes. He just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

Twelve years later, most people would say Fitzgerald Grant was at the top of his game, except for Fitz. He was his worst enemy. He relentlessly criticized himself for the hurdles he'd encountered in transitioning the automobile industry to forms of sustainable energy and made light of his successes.

The truth that the rest of the world failed to realize was that aside from his abusive background, there was a deeper truth.

There were only two other people in the world that knew this truth.

Alina and Liliana.

Liliana. Her erratic emotional outbursts and manipulative behavior had been a major source of anxiety. He'd given her chance after chance, but she had tricked him every single time. He married her, settling for a lifetime of up-and-downs, thinking she was the best he could hope for. The last straw was when she purposely threw herself into oncoming traffic. That's when it hit him like a ton of bricks.

God, why had it taken him so freaking long to realize she'd been manipulating him all along?

Once upon a time, he'd made the mistake of trusting her and revealing too much information. They'd been together at a social gathering her family had hosted. He had been fifteen years old, tall and awkward. Lilliana was the popular girl every boy wanted. He'd been thrilled she bothered hanging out with him the entire evening. It had been a particularly rough week for him at home. So he wound up revealing too much information; he told her everything about his home life including his diagnosis.

That was probably the greatest mistake of his life. Liliana had used the knowledge she gained against him every chance she got. Over the years, he'd spent so much energy pacifying her. It only worked for a little while, until she found a way to blindside him.

"We should do a press conference, tell the world about your struggles," she once said. "Just imagine the headlines," she went on drawing an imaginary wide screen with her hands. "Autistic Savant Fitzgerald Grant Shares the Secrets to His Success."

Fitz thought that was a terrible, terrible idea.

The exposure would leave him like an oyster deprived of its shell before it had a chance to make a pearl.

Fitz had been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder a few days shy of his fifth birthday. He'd been admitted to school early, but soon, his quirky behavior got the attention of his teacher, who referred him for an evaluation.

Soon after, his parents pulled him out of school. Fitz didn't understand what was going on. Why were his parents so upset? He must have done something wrong.

He never received treatment, and his adoptive mother homeschooled him through his senior year in high school. The irony of it all was that she had once told him that she had wanted to protect him from the school bullies when, in fact, there was an even greater bully living under their roof (AKA his father).

Over the years, Fitz had read a great deal about his condition. Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a neurodevelopmental condition that is related to impaired social interaction, understanding and attempting to communicate, and interests and behaviors that differ from those of the majority of the population. The symptoms ranged from mild to severe. Fitz supposed his symptoms put him in the very mild range of the spectrum. Some developmental experts refer to it as Aspergers.

He supposed he was lucky in a way. He was so high functioning that he could easily appear as what society considered 'normal'.

However, that didn't mean his life was a walk in the park.

Human beings are social creatures by nature. And Fitz struggled with the nuances of reading people's emotions and social cues, which made it harder to fit in and make friends. He experienced rejection and ridicule. As he grew older and wiser, he developed a fort around his heart revealing very little about himself.

Some would say that choosing to hide his condition was akin to lying. Fitz had to admit this was a grey area. Not everyone believed that choosing NOT to divulge information was the same as lying.

If he was ever asked, point blank, if he was ever diagnosed with autism, and he said no, that would be lying. No doubt about that one. But what about Grace? Was he lying by keeping her existence a secret?

Sometimes, his answer to the last question was no. Sometimes, it was yes.

Grey areas were particularly troublesome.

And most social situations were emotionally draining. He put so much effort into blending in and acting normal. He thought about every word inflection and gesture, mimicking others around him, matching the tone of the gathering. All of these elements had to work together seamlessly, he'd learned. It was tricky, yes. What worked for one crowd may not work for another.

His performance wasn't perfect. Sometimes, there was a little 'something' that gave him away. He might say something or smile at the wrong time. Whenever that happened, he retreated into his shell. If someone questioned his behavior, he had the perfect reply. He was the classic introvert who gained energy from solitude and quiet.

The bottom line was he knew better than anyone what it was like to be labeled different from the norm. Time and time and again, his father yelled at him. Why can't you be more normal.? He'd asked.

There was that word again: Normal.

In his mind, the word was grossly overrated. However, there was still that part of him that longed to be just like everyone else. The longing ran deep. It was the desire to be heard, seen, and loved unconditionally. Something he'd never had growing up.

And yes, sometimes, despite all his accomplishments, he still wished for that bit of normalcy just outside his reach.

The downside to all the knowledge he'd accumulated was his fixation on the genetic component of autism. It colored his view of the world. And that was the reason why he would have preferred not to have fathered any children. Why would he want any child of his to suffer ridicule and discrimination? The world wasn't a happy, welcoming place for those who were different.

"Fitz?" Olivia called, bringing him out of his reverie.

Whoa.

He was pleasantly surprised to see she had crawled back in bed. She lay on top of the covers clad in red, sexy lingerie.

He crawled into bed as if being pulled by a magnet, his pulse drumming in his ears. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her lips, discarding her skimpy, G-string garment aside in one go.

She hissed out a breath, jerked forward, and raised her bottom high, offering a very naughty, glistening view of her sex.

He licked her damp folds from behind and used his forefinger to stroke her clit.

"God, that feels amazing."

"And this?"

He shoved his tongue directly into her opening, and her breath hitched. He chuckled at her reaction and then thrust his tongue back in before she could catch her breath. He then continued to explore her silky heat, fingering her deftly, enjoying her soft whimpers of pleasure while, at the same time, trying to ignore his erection, which was threatening to explode. Her cries of abandon made him increase the pressure over her clit while adding another finger into the mix. And then she came loudly and without inhibition.

She shifted so they were face to face, her caramel eyes burning with need. She looked so damn good, he desperately needed to be inside of her like now.

Most reluctantly, he tore away from her, stood up, and quickly finished undressing. He returned a few moments later with an assortment of condoms. Even though she was on birth control, he thought of these as double insurance.

But before he could tear open the package, she sat up and murmured,

"Not yet."

The air filled with tension, and his manhood twitched with impatience.

She then wrapped her lips around him.

"Jesus," he murmured, keeling over backward. The feeling of her mouth on him had brought him an unexpected shudder. In response, she took him deeper, cupping his balls. A few moments of exquisite torture were all he could bear before gently pulling her head back, so close to exploding he wondered how he managed.

"I'm ready," she said. "Now...and fast."

Without another word, he rolled the condom onto his shaft, positioned himself between her thighs, and drove himself inside of her until they both released deep, simultaneous groans.

A/N: Sit tight, I have big 'surprises' in store in the next couple of chapters!