by Ruby Rowe
I lean against the doorframe and slide down against it until I’m a puddle on the floor, weeping, too. I’m trapped in a cage of emotions: guilt, despair, joy, and love.
Regret I said I wouldn’t feel for what Tony did is in the cage with me, trying to take hold to strangle my resolve, but I won’t allow it. I can’t.
No, instead I’ll cling to the hope that through Tony’s actions and death, Ellis, Liam and I will be given a beautiful life … a magnificent future.
But it will only happen if we believe in the possibility. I do believe, and I’ll hang on to that faith for Ellis, too, until he trusts in us again. I’ll fight for our family. I’ll make us whole.
Ellis
For minutes, I let out the grief I’ve held in from losing Tony. I release the pain from the years I lost with Liam, but mostly I cry for the overwhelming amount of love I have for my son.
I felt a strong fondness for him when I believed he was my nephew, but it doesn’t compare to how I feel knowing he’s my flesh and blood. My purpose for living expanded exponentially by hearing that single truth.
Wiping my eyes, I ponder how I’ll tell him I’m his father. How will he respond? Will it scare him away or bring us closer? Neither of our lives will ever be the same.
Camilla sniffles, so I look over my shoulder at her. She’s sitting on the floor, taking a front row seat to my most vulnerable state.
She gets up and walks over to us. Sitting on the side of the bed next to me, she places her hand on his legs. Her long hair shrouds her swollen eyes, and her skin is blotchy and pink.
I realize she’s the stark contrast to how she was the night she got inside my car and listened to my terms. She was defiant and angry, tough and strong, and the precise challenge I was looking for.
Unlike the women who repeatedly threw themselves at me, she was going to fight, and I looked forward to breaking her to prove I was powerful and in control of my life and those around me.
Dominating her would rid me of the inadequacy I’d felt all my life. She was going to symbolize the room full of people I ran away from in a fit of panic. She was going to pay for hiding Liam from his family.
So, I moved her in under duress, and lied to her, too, making her believe I knew what it meant for her to submit to me. The truth was, I didn’t have a clue what respect a submissive deserved, but I did accomplish one of my goals; I broke her.
Now, she sits before me, plagued with the guilt and pain I initially wanted her to endure, but instead of it giving me satisfaction, it makes me feel like scum.
And the reason is because I now understand what she was fighting for and feared she’d lose. She would’ve done anything I asked to keep Liam.
“I hate to wake him. Why don’t you sleep in the bed, and I’ll take the couch? We’ll go home in the morning,” she whispers.
Considering her statement, I could be suspicious that she’s still living with that fear, being compliant only to please me so I don’t take Liam away from her.
But her eyes always tell a different story. They gaze at me like I can do no wrong, and her body responds to my touch as if it could never get enough of it. The words she breathes seem straight from her heart.
She claims she loves me and wants to be my submissive in its authentic form. What do I do with that? … Nothing. I do nothing and keep my distance from Camilla unless I can forgive her for hiding Liam all these years and for the role she played in Tony’s deceit.
I can’t be anything to her if I don’t trust that her actions are genuine. I want more than anything to believe this is more than her surviving … more than a way for her to keep her son. It has to be more than another form of running.
“Or, we can sleep in the bed together with him between us,” she adds. Probably because I’ve not replied to her previous suggestion.
“No, I’ll take the sofa. If he wakes up and I’m in bed with him, he’ll be confused.”
Scrunching her forehead, she nods. “OK.”
I eye my child one last time before I walk to the entrance of the living room. I turn back to Camilla.
“Two things… Tomorrow I’m telling Liam I’m his father. He might not understand now, but he will in time.”
“I think that’s wonderful. What’s the other thing?”
“If I’m to trust you, then you need to tell me about your past. I want to know why you took Sasha from your parents. Why have you been in hiding? I can’t trust someone I don’t know, so you have to let me in, too.”
She swallows and tucks hair behind her ear.
“I can do that. As hard as it will be to talk about it after all these years, I want someone else to know. I want you to know.”
Nodding, I leave her alone in the room and head for the sofa. I remove my shoes and strip off my hoodie before I lie down.
Why did my life take this turn? If my brother were here, I’d cuss at him, lay him out cold, and then I’d help him up so I could hug him. I’d thank him for creating this domino effect, which gave me that amazing kid.
Yes, I could’ve had a child already if I’d wanted to, but he wouldn’t have been Camilla’s. She’s the reason he’s so damn remarkable.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sasha
“Shit, why are you so loud?” Without opening my eyes, I slam my hand down on the alarm clock next to me, but it doesn’t help, so the annoying thing keeps blasting in my ear.
Dammit. I sit up and lean on one elbow while I figure out how to shut it off. I finally find the right button. “Thank you, Jesus, for reminding me I have sight and hearing.”
Falling back on the bed, I cover my head with the blanket and yawn. Drugs. They’re my next thought, so that means I need more sleep to make me forget.
***
“Wake up.” My blanket is yanked back, so I open my eyes wide.
“Greyson! What are you doing in here?” I grab the blanket and cover myself back up. “What if I had been naked?”
“Hmm … I hadn’t thought of that.” He shrugs. “You’re not. Now, get ready. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.” I sit up in bed, in my white tank top and shorts, embarrassed that he saw me braless.
He looks handsome in khakis and a navy dress shirt he hasn’t tucked in yet. I turn my head away with the hope that I won’t get another whiff of his enticing scent.
It’s soap, cologne or aftershave. Whatever the concoction, it made him smell delicious. Like lickably so. Yes, I made that word up.
“Did you set the alarm after I fell asleep?” I ask.
“Yep, and I thought the volume would do the trick, but no such luck.”
“I’m grateful for getting to stay here, but you should respect my boundaries. If this is my room, then don’t come in here without knocking first.”
He scratches the back of his head, which I’ve noticed he does when he’s nervous or thinking. Or, maybe he does it with the hope that when his shirt lifts from doing so, I’ll see his washboard stomach and forget how he misbehaved. Strategic on his part since it’s working.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t want someone barging in my room without permission. Get ready. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes now, instead of twenty.”
“Where in the world are we going?”
“To work. Where else would we go on a Monday morning?”
“You want me to start today? I thought I’d have time to rest after that awful bus trip.”
“Hmph. I guess we need to go over the terms of this arrangement. One, you don’t get to lie around here and do nothing like some sloth. Two, you will work, starting today.”
He’s holding his hand out in front of him, counting off his fingers like some disgruntled teacher I’ve pissed off in the classroom. I’m surprised I remember what that feels like seeing how I didn’t go to school past the eighth grade.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry, yes.”
“Three, you will not bring drugs into my home, nor will you do them while living here. Four, you will not have strange
rs over without my prior knowledge, especially no dudes.
“Five, you don’t treat my housekeeper, Theresa, like she’s your servant. She’s fucking awesome, and I’ll be pissed if she quits, and lastly, my home gym is off limits from five to six every weekday morning. That’s my time to work out.”
I roll my eyes. “No worries there, Mr. Probation Officer. I have no plans to be up at five, nor do I have the desire to exercise.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “I caught that. The snide nor reference. I hope you’re quick at getting ready because you now have ten minutes.”
“But I don’t have any dress clothes.”
“You can wear jeans until you get some.” He strolls out, and I’m stunned by the change in his demeanor. Where did yesterday’s sweet Greyson go?
Greyson
Yeah, I was a little hard on her, but I had to treat her like a child so I didn’t get hard from thinking of her as a woman.
I could see her tits through her tank top. Although brief, it was long enough to turn me on. They’re the ideal roundness, heavy I’m sure. Fuck, I can imagine the weight of them in my hands.
Whitney’s are too small. I’m such a douchebag. Wait, no, I have a right to my opinion about tits, and my personal preference is big ones. I’m sure Whit prefers my long dick over Sebastian’s three inches. She thinks I don’t know she’s screwing him, but I do.
Anyway, I knew I was wrong to invade Sasha’s personal space, so I admonished her instead of myself. I’ll blame it on the lack of caffeine and her fine assets.
Once I’ve put on my shoes and watch, I walk to the kitchen and start my Keurig. It’s moments like this when I wish Theresa worked every day, but she’s only here on Tuesdays and Fridays, cleaning and preparing my meals for the week.
The ten minutes I gave Sasha have long passed, and I debate on harassing her to hurry up. I can get to work whenever the hell I want unless I have an early appointment, so I decide to cut her some slack today. I only pushed her this morning to see how cooperative she’d be.
I hear her barrel into the kitchen behind me. I look back at her, and the poor girl’s hair is wet, and she’s out of breath. I smile, happy with her commitment to this.
“Do you drink coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Go dry your hair. I’ll make you a to-go mug while I wait.”
“Are you sure you won’t be late?”
“Yep. Go before I change my mind.” She disappears, and her footsteps thump loudly on my hardwood floors as she runs down the hallway to one of my three bedrooms.
Once I’ve fixed our drinks, I stroll to the living room and admire the mountains in the far-off distance. My penthouse condo is in the Cherry Creek neighborhood, which is in the center of the city.
“I’m ready now.” I turn around, and Sasha is even more out of breath. She’s smiling this time, her eyes brighter than yesterday, and I imagine that’ll continue if she stays clean.
A somberness settles over me when I recall the first time I saw her in her apartment. I think about how easy it would be for her to go right back to that state of despair.
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing. Your coffee’s on the counter, and you can grab anything you want from the refrigerator or pantry to eat on the way.”
“OK, thank you.” She leaves, and I gaze out the picture window again, warning myself not to get attached to her. I’ve felt the disappointment before when a friend I helped didn’t stay clean. There’s a fine line between supporting someone’s sobriety and becoming emotionally involved with them.
“You have so much food,” she says excitedly. I turn, and her eyes are round as saucers, her grin surrounded by caramel-brown hair that’s naturally highlighted throughout. She’s too pretty, smiling like that as she holds a muffin, banana and her mug.
I push out my lip. “You think?”
“Yes, your pantry is stocked full. When the zombie apocalypse begins, I’m hiding out here.”
“Zombies?” I ask with a chuckle.
“I’m just joking. Well, sort of. Do you not watch The Walking Dead?”
“I can’t say I have. Isn’t it cheesy with all those zombies?”
“Oh, no. The acting is incredible, and the special effects make it so real. You have to watch it. We can start from the beginning and binge watch every season if you’d like.”
I smile, enjoying how happy-go-lucky she is. Don’t get attached, Greyson. She can’t stick around. You’ll soon be living in a custom-built home with whiny Whit, listening to her go on and on about how gifted she is and how lucky I am to be graced by her angelic presence.
“I don’t have much time to watch television, but you’re welcome to hang out in here and watch TV whenever you want.”
“Right. I’m sorry I asked. I get excited about shows and movies. I guess they’re an escape for me. I fantasize about lives I’ll never get a chance to live.”
It takes effort to hold my smile. I’m frustrated that I want to stay right here and learn more about her. She’s different from any woman I’ve known.
Maybe it’s her youthful maturity level. I think she’s twenty-five, but she acts more like a twenty-year-old. I don’t want to call her immature because if I had to guess, there’s a dark explanation for her childlike nirvana. An explanation that was out of her control.
“We should go.”
Ellis
Feeling a poke on my shoulder, I wake up to find Liam smiling down at me. I’ve often noticed how similar his blue eyes are to mine, but now I really see it.
“Boss, whatcha doin’ here?”
“I came to see you, but you were sleeping. I thought I would, too.” I start to sit up, so he moves to allow me room. I grin at how his hair is sticking up in the back like it often does.
His Batman pajamas are funny, too, and I try to recall if I ever wore clothes with action figures on them. I don’t believe so. My parents dressed us in stuffy attire, so I’m sure mine were some atrocious plaid.
“Did you come to swim? They have a pool, and it’s so, so big aaaaand deep.” He spreads his arms apart.
“No, I don’t have my swim trunks. I do have a surprise for you at the house. Would you like to go see it?”
“At your house?”
“It’s your house, too.”
“My house?” Pointing to his chest, he grins broader.
“Yes, and you can live there for as long as you’d like.”
“I want to wive there forever. I love my room and Iwene and Em.”
I chuckle from his excitement and over how damn happy he makes me. Camilla strolls in, yawning with her steps.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Morning.”
“Momma, Boss says I can wive with him forever.”
Her eyes flit to mine and hang on tightly. They study me, looking for evidence that I’ve had a change of heart. I don’t want to hurt her, but nothing about us changed overnight.
“Would you mind if we checked out soon and head home? I have a meeting somewhere at eleven and need time to shower. I took a taxi here, so we can ride back together,” I say.
Sighing heavily, she turns her back on me and starts walking to the bedroom.
“I’ll go pack our things and dress.”
“Liam, you should get dressed, too,” I say, “and once we’re home, I’ll have Irene make you pancakes. Then, after my meeting, I’ll show you your surprise.”
“Yes!” He jumps up and down, hopping like a rabbit all the way to the bedroom. I wish I had his energy this morning. I also wish I could forget about the past, but the second I saw Camilla, it resurfaced, along with the pain. I want to find a way to bury it with my brother.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sasha
Greyson holds the glass door open for me to enter his business, G. Burke Enterprise. I walk in and smile at a young brunette behind a curved desk.
Right away, I notice her lavender silk blouse and worry about being underdressed. I cros
s my arms and glance around the space.
A window spans the entire front of the brick building, and like Greyson’s home, his office’s décor is rustic and not what I expected. Maybe it’s because of his wealth, but I pictured him with a modern style.
The lobby reminds me of ski resorts I’ve seen on television. Wooden crown molding and beams are overhead, and there’s a colossal grey stone fireplace with a sizable cream rug lying before it. A brown leather sofa rests on top, across from two comfy chairs, making the space welcoming and cozy.
“Kaylie, this is Sasha. She’s going to be assisting Rhonda. Sasha, this is Kaylie, our receptionist.” She stands to shake my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sasha. Mr. Burke’s a cool boss. I think you’ll like it here.”
“Kaylie’s the cool one. You should hear her mess with the telemarketers.” He gives her a nod. “Send my calls to voice mail for the next thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies before taking her seat.
I follow Greyson through another glass door. There are offices on both sides of me as we stride down the long hallway. He stops at one on the left and taps on the open door.
“Good morning.” Greyson motions for me to step up to the doorway.
“Morning,” the guy replies.
“I want to introduce you to Sasha. She’s going to be assisting Rhonda.”
He arches an eyebrow and comes around the desk. Smiling, he shakes my hand.
“I didn’t know she was getting an assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sasha. I’m Terrence, the appraisal manager and Greyson’s right-hand man.”
“He is when he’s not braggin’ about it,” Greyson says. I take a glimpse of him, and his smirk exposes a hint of his dimples.
“Welcome, Sasha. If you need anything at all, you come see me, and FYI, this one’s grumpy before his morning cup of Joe.”
“Yes, I found that out earlier this morning.”
Scrunching his forehead, he shoots Greyson a look.
