From Sir, With Love

by Rachell Nichole

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  “I’d expect nothing else,” she said with a sigh. She’d slipped her heels off at the front door, like she usually did and was now barefoot.

  If it wasn’t for the strain between them, and the low simmer of rage and frustration constantly assaulting him, he would have called this a lovely routine, actually.

  He plated dinner without further comment, and she situated herself in her normal spot at the table. He took his place across from her, as he usually did. She gave him a brief smile, but it didn’t reach her tired eyes. She had not been losing weight. He would have noticed. But every day she looked a little more tired. And it was like a slap in the face, reminding him how badly he was failing here.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  She would occasionally talk to him about work. “Fine.”

  Apparently, this wasn’t going to be one of those times. She took a few bites and while he normally tried not to actively stare at her when she ate, he did now. She stopped with the fork poised at her mouth, and fear trickled into her eyes. She dropped the fork with a clatter. “What?” she demanded. “I’m eating.” So, his focus on her food had not gone unnoticed. She was simply studiously avoiding talking about it. Just like he’d been.

  “I can’t keep this charade up; I know you’re pissed at me. I get it. I really, really do. But why can’t you just let me help you?” he pleaded.

  “Because I don’t need you to.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No, Leo, you’re the one in this room whose been doing that,” she countered. He was opening his mouth to argue when there was a knock at the door.

  She was on her feet and heading down the hall before he could move. He followed her, and she opened the door. Her shoulders tensed. Charlotte.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy?” Charlotte asked. “Smells great. Sorry for interrupting dinner.”

  Her tone said she was anything but. There was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite name, some deep emotion he hadn’t expected. He suppressed a sigh. Evangeline was enough of a handful. He wasn’t sure why his sister was showing up unannounced, looking ragged, and sad. Distraught, maybe?

  “What’s up?” he asked her.

  “Which one of us are you here to see?” Evangeline asked.

  “Both, actually.”

  “You may as well come in and get a plate then,” Leo offered.

  Evangeline tensed even more. Right. Shit. Probably a bad suggestion.

  “I can’t stay. I need to... to get home.” Charlotte cleared her throat but didn’t elaborate.

  Evangeline let out a breath in a rush, and he fought the urge to place a hand on her back. If she went into a panic attack in front of Charlotte, he knew she’d hate herself for it. She hated the weakness inside her with a passion that Leo completely related to. Benson had said in his notes that she always projected strength, even if she felt like she was dying inside. They were going to have to work on that. Even if that was a trait he and Evangeline shared.

  “Let’s go in the living room then.” Evangeline stepped back, brushing against him, and he did his best not to notice, but his body’s reactions to her were getting stronger. He wanted her. And he fucking hated himself for it.

  He backed up, trying to keep from touching her too much, and then followed her into the parlor off the foyer. The three sat on the delicate-looking sofas, and Charlotte glanced between the two of them, her face a cloud of emotions he couldn’t name.

  “I’ve opened the estate in probate,” Charlotte announced without preamble.

  “You can’t do that,” Leo said at the same time Evangeline sighed.

  “I can.”

  “You aren’t the administrator of the will, Charlotte. I am,” Evangeline countered.

  “I’m well aware of what my brother’s will said.” Tramp. The word was written all over his sister’s face, and the constant low-simmer of rage threatened to boil over in an instant. “I’m contesting it.”

  “Don’t be such a bitch,” he said.

  Charlotte’s blue gaze snapped from Evangeline to him, and he could see the hurt there. But he couldn’t care. What the hell did his sister want from the estate? It wasn’t like she needed anything. She’d been an attorney for years; she and Pete were comfortable. They must be, as Charlotte had stopped working several years back, if he recalled correctly. Something about more time for leisure or hobbies or some such nonsense. Must be nice.

  “What is it you want?” he asked. “What would possess you to try to contest the will, or Benson’s wishes?” She had to be after something specific. What was her game plan? He was not going to just sit back and let her bulldoze Evangeline, who at the moment just looked about ready to shatter. Enough of this.

  “This, of course.”

  “This what?” Evangeline asked.

  “This house. Kempert Manor. It should have been mine to begin with. I took out a loan to help Ben fix this dump up when he first purchased the wreck.”

  Evangeline gasped.

  “What? You didn’t know? Did he have you fooled, too? Convinced he was sitting on a pile of money when you first met? Of course he did.”

  “That is enough!” Leo pushed himself up from the couch. “You’re leaving. Now.” He reached for his sister to usher her along.

  Her home. Benson’s sister wanted her home.

  Well, she couldn’t have it. “Joke’s on you, Charlotte. Benson may have left me the house in his will, but only half of it. Leo’s owns the rest. Which means even if you contest the will, and kick me out of my own home, you can’t just have it. He’ll still own the other half.”

  “I can convince Leo to come to his senses.” Charlotte stared at Leo, who was trying to help her to her feet. And her face said she believed that. That if only she could shove Evangeline out the door, Leo would just hand her the keys. Maybe he would. He had a life in New York, after all. There was nothing keeping him here, except maybe the house. Perhaps he’d be glad to be rid of it. He’d certainly be glad to be rid of her, she was sure. There was no way he’d signed up to deal with her bullshit.

  “I said you’re leaving,” he repeated.

  “Let her stay. If she’s so convinced she belongs here,” Evangeline said. “Why not? I lived with one Hastings sibling, and now the other. Why not all three?” Fuck, she was exhausted. This was exhausting. Every bit of it. Just trying to get out of bed in the morning was a fight. Evangeline was so fucking tired.

  Charlotte gazed at her around Leo. “I have no desire to live here with the two of you!”

  Evangeline refused to react, even though she felt like she’d been slapped. So not only did Charlotte think that she’d only been after Benson for the money, she now thought that Evangeline was sleeping with Leo. Fantastic. At this point, she might as well be. He seemed to think she needed him to take care of her.

  Maybe you do.

  Shut up! She was so over that little voice inside her that kept taunting her, trying to convince her how weak she was, how she’d never survive without Benson. She pushed the panic aside. No. She was not going to have a panic attack in front of Charlotte.

  “How much was the loan?” she found herself asking. She hadn’t known. Benson had kept from her that he’d needed money to rebuild their home. He’d already owned it when she moved in, and while it had certainly been in disrepair, it was not as Charlotte had said, a dump. Evangeline had helped him every step of the way, learning how to rehabilitate such a place. It had been her and Benson who had sweated and worked and rebuilt Kempert Manor. She’d often wondered if she hadn’t had the house to focus on, would she have beat back the psychological aspects of her disease so easily? Kempert Manor was a part of her now. As they’d brought the house back to life, she’d been brought back to life with it. She wasn’t giving it up without a fight.

  “I gave him forty-five thousand dollars, in total. And then there’s the money I’ve put out for the funeral.”

  Evangeline wanted to thro
w something.

  “And if I pay that?” She didn’t have that kind of money sitting in the bank. But Benson’s life insurance would come through soon and she’d be able to pay all of that back.

  “It’s not about the money.”

  “Charlotte, stop being ridiculous,” Leo interjected. “The house is ours. And that’s how it’s going to stay. If you can’t accept that, then I guess we’ll see you in court.”

  The decree sat there between the three of them. And then Charlotte began to laugh. The sound held no joy.

  “Christ Leo, she has you as wrapped around her little finger as she did with Ben. Are you already fucking her? Benson’s barely been gone a few weeks.”

  “Get. Out.” The cold rage in Leo’s voice carried through the room and Evangeline’s heart stuttered, her mouth drying.

  She really didn’t know Leo Hastings all that well. The shock on Charlotte’s face told her that the other woman had never heard that tone from him either. And if Evangeline wasn’t mistaken, Charlotte’s blue eyes held real fear.

  Charlotte got to her feet. “Fine, Leo. If that’s the way you want it, I guess I will see you in court. It’s a shame you couldn’t be sensible about this.” She gave Evangeline a brief nod and waltzed out of the room, down the hall to the front door. Leo followed behind her and slammed the door closed behind his sister.

  Evangeline sat on the couch, trying to absorb what had just happened. Not only was she not able to get Leo out of the house, she now was going to have to fight just to keep her half of it. Terrific. Absolutely fucking terrific.

  When Leo didn’t immediately return, she followed him to the door. He stood there, visibly shaking.

  “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” she felt compelled to say. She should appreciate his support against his own sister. She knew that.

  But she was tired of being his charity case. She was fine. You are not fine. Okay, she wasn’t fine, but she would be, damn it. No matter what she had to do. She would beat back the nerves, the constant barrage of voices in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough, telling her she wasn’t hungry, telling her there was no real need to fight for her health, telling her she was ugly and fat and worthless. She had beaten them before, and she would do it again. Even though she feared, deep down, that she had needed help before, and if she tried on her own now, she’d fail.

  “Leave,” Leo said, his voice still that deadly cold. He didn’t turn around, wouldn’t look at her. What the hell game was he playing?

  Whatever he was doing, she wasn’t going to just stand here and take it. Sure, he had told Charlotte to go fly a kite. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have ulterior motives. That he was actually trying to protect her. Maybe he just wanted to stick it to his sister, and he was using Evangeline and Kempert Manor to do it.

  “What? No, you’re not going to kick me out of my own fucking house. Not after that. Fuck you.” She shoved him.

  He spun in a flash, his face a mask of rage, and then he was crowding her against the wall. “Damn it, minx. I told you to leave me be.”

  She gasped, her heart thundering. But it wasn’t fear coursing through her. It was adrenaline, sure. But it was a different kind entirely.

  He was so intent on protecting her. Well, she would show him. She was fine. She could take care of herself. And she wasn’t fucking afraid of him.

  “Or what?” she demanded. Even to her, her voice sounded breathless. But she didn’t wait for an answer. She couldn’t win a physical fight against him. She knew that. But she had other ways to win. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked his head down to hers. She shoved her lips against his, ignoring the rub of his beard against her sensitive skin, kissing him. She wasn’t going to let him continue to think her weak, in need of his protection.

  Her head swam at the taste of him. He only let her control the kiss for a moment, and then his mouth became demanding against hers. He pushed her back against the wall, trapping her with his body, and she shivered. She let him think he was in control. Let her mouth open to welcome his tongue inside. All the pain and confusion of the past several weeks poured out of her and into that kiss.

  She could taste his anger, feel it in the swipe of his tongue, in the press of his body against hers. He didn’t touch her with his hands, leaving them on either side of her shoulders against the wall. Like an iron cage around her.

  But everywhere his body pressed into hers, she caught flame. The kiss could have lasted a second, or an eternity, she wasn’t sure. When he shoved himself back from her, she fought to catch her breath. Her body felt shaky, and she was glad for the support of the wall behind her, now that his body was no longer holding her upright.

  “What the hell?” he demanded, his face bewildered.

  She shrugged. She wasn’t going to tell him why she’d kissed him. Hell, if she were honest, she probably didn’t fully understand it herself. All she knew was that he was seething with rage, and she was broken, aching with a deep hole inside herself, and she hated the way he looked at her like she was so fragile.

  “No, you’re not going to just stand there and shrug at me, minx. Tell me what the fuck that was all about. Right now.” His breathing was as ragged as hers. And she knew she felt him getting hard against her. He had wanted that kiss. Whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  She shrugged again, just to goad him.

  The desire in his eyes was instantly eaten up by the rage. Her heart skipped a beat. So much restraint. She understood now why he’d been shaking alone in the foyer. Because he was trying to get himself under control. She knew a little something about that.

  He paced toward her, his hands in fists at his sides. But she wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe she should be. Maybe he was showing her all the reasons she ought to be terrified. The adrenaline rushing through her veins was a high she’d missed, and she relished it now. Wrapped herself up in it like a warm blanket and rubbed it all over her body. In this moment, she was the farthest thing from tired she’d been in a long while.

  “I’m not telling you shit,” she taunted. Just to see what he’d do.

  “Damn it, minx, you’re fucking killing me here. Stop being so damned mouthy.”

  A shiver ran through her. Her suspicions were confirmed. He was a Dom. She knew they should talk about it. Knew that it was stupid to jump headlong into something like this. Knew that they’d regret it tomorrow. But the two words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Make. Me.”

  He was on her in an instant. His face close to hers. She wanted another kiss. Another touch. But she’d already pushed way past where she should have.

  “No more kissing,” he decreed, his gaze pinning her to the spot as effectively as his body, which he held inches from hers. Not touching. Not giving her what she wanted. What she needed.

  She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. That’s not what she wanted to hear.

  “Don’t worry, minx. I’ll take care of your needs. But there will be no. More. Kissing.” He lifted a hand to thread through her hair. His gentle tone and caress warred with the fury in his eyes, making her knees weak. “First, however...” his fingers tightened in her hair, tugging until she felt the pinch against her scalp, and her stomach flipped. “We’re going to talk about your bratty little display. And then, you’re going to be punished. Understand?”

  She bit her aching bottom lip. She knew this was wrong. Knew it was too soon. Knew that it was a bad idea. But for the first time in over a month, she felt like some semblance of herself.

  So, she stopped caring that this was a bad idea, and nodded.

  Chapter Five

  Leonardo led her by the hand into the kitchen, his head reeling. They needed to talk. He knew they had to discuss this before things went any further. She hadn’t uttered a single further word after challenging him to make her stop being so mouthy.

  “I’m going to warm our plates, and we’re going to eat. And you are going to listen to what I have to say. And you a
re not to utter one contrary fucking word, or I swear to God, no matter how much you goad me, I’m not going to give you what you’re so desperately asking for. You will answer my questions, is that understood?”

  He guided her to her seat and pulled it out for her. She swallowed hard but nodded. This is the opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing, damn it.

  He had to gentle with her, damn it. And he was failing miserably. His anger was barely leashed on a normal basis. Now, he was losing the tenuous hold he had on it.

  His thoughts whirled as he warmed their dinner back to piping. It certainly wouldn’t be quite as good now, but he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. And he certainly wasn’t going to let her go without dinner. Had she eaten since breakfast?

  “So... you’re not gay?” she asked, throwing him out of his thoughts.

  He rolled his eyes. So much for not being contrary. “Should have probably asked me that before you kissed me.”

  She blushed but didn’t say anything.

  “I know most people assume that because of the whole theater thing. I do occasionally date guys, but most often I date women. I would have thought you wouldn’t make such assumptions, with your background. How would you like if it I thought you’d blow any guy who told you to just because you’re a submissive?”

  She sighed. “Is there anything he didn’t tell you over the years?”

  Now. Tell her now, damn it, everything. He shook his head. No, they were moving into something here. Something different from what he was supposed to be doing. But it was something she seemed to desperately need, despite Benson’s notes to the contrary.

  He could give her something, at least, so he said, “We used to share submissives on occasion. So, I didn’t need to be told. I’ve just always known. Benson didn’t date vanilla women.” He set the plates on the table and took his seat. “Now, eat.”