by Emelia Blair
“Your word, Caleb.” I stare at him.
He looks amused. “All right. You have it. I won’t do anything to them.”
I let out a breath I don’t know I’ve been holding and then I purse my lips, forcing myself to step back from the intoxication his presence is surrounding me in, and first address the real issues at hand, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
13
Caleb
This isn’t how I wanted Kendall to find out.
Not like this.
But her reaction is anything but predictable.
I had expected a lot more shouting, maybe breaking a few things, a physical attack even. I had expected tears, accusations and threats of leaving.
But all of it pales in comparison to the almost graceful way she reacted. There’s a quietness about her, a lost look as she begins by asking me questions, and then the fury builds and in that fury, I’ve never seen her look so beautiful, that glitter in her eyes as she fights the desire to physically jump on me and beat me within an inch of my life.
I find myself lost in her, thrown back by my reaction to her.
She’s everything and more.
And right now, as she throws another question at me, I ponder over it.
‘Were you ever going to tell me?’
She doesn’t pull away from me and I take it as an encouraging sign. “Eventually. I just didn’t want you to leave. Not till you understood everything.”
“Leave?” Her eyes widen fractionally. “And go where? I have no home to go to. No job to sustain me. I’ve got nothing. When you offered me this job, you knew exactly what you were doing.”
I hear the sharpness in her tone, the incredulity.
“You take me out of the one home I have, give me things I’ve never had, so much so that it’s a lifestyle I become accustomed to, and then you expect me to walk away?” She takes a step towards me now, a mocking look on her pretty features. “You’ve been playing me from the very start, Caleb. Or should I call you Harry?”
“Harry died in prison.” I raise my hand and toy with the loose curl that dangling by her face. “He died when the FBI took him in for a crime that he wasn’t responsible for, only based on the fact that my father used to be a criminal.” I see the look of growing horror on her face and I continue, forcibly, determined that she see the monster that I’ve become, “He died, miserable and alone, after a very rigorous torture session and then Caleb was born. One of them managed to extract your name from me and they kept taunting me about what would happen to you once you left the orphanage and I realized that if not for me, then I had to survive for you.” I give her a smile that is both mocking and tender. “The man you’re looking at exists only for you. So, call me Caleb. I choose to be Caleb.”
Kendall makes a choked noise.
I move my free hand to cup her face, making sure she keeps looking at me. “I did manipulate you and I don’t regret it. I made sure you had a proper roof over your head and proper meals. I ensured you had so much money that you couldn’t spend all of it. The entire world will be at your fingertip when I’m done.”
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me with something that I interpret as terror. “Are you scared of me, Kendall?”
It’ll kill me if she is.
She’s the only person in this world who is capable of bringing me to my knees.
But she lifts her small hands, tears filling her eyes, and whispers, “I don’t want the world, Caleb. I just wanted you.”
I take hold of one wrist and bring her palm to my lips, pressing a kiss in the middle, my eyes on hers, probing, desperate as only she can make me. “And do you still want me?”
Her breathing is harsh as she admits, “God help me, I do!” She drags me towards her and kisses me.
I can tell she’s not accustomed to this, so I take control of it.
Then she pulls away just as quickly, leaving me bereft. “They tortured you?” She looks fierce now.
I don’t want to frighten her with the details. “Now and then.”
“You have scars, don’t you?”
Now, I hesitate. “They’ve mostly—”
“If they tortured you,” she interrupts me. “The scars wouldn’t have faded that much. I want to see them.”
“Kendall.” Now, I take a step back. “They’re not something you—”
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” She gives me a look that holds a wealth of pain and history. “I have my own scars, Caleb. Terrible, ugly things. I’ve never bared my back in public because of them. But I’m not ashamed of them.” Now, when she steps towards me, there is something different about her, as if she’s understanding how much power she wields in this relationship. “Are you ashamed of your scars, Caleb?” She looks stronger than before, more together, as if our reunion has filled in the gaps that were missing from her soul, as if I was all she needed to stand taller.
“Who gave you your scars?” I ask, my hand snaking around her back to smooth over it.
“A very bad man,” she whispers. “But I don’t regret them. I can’t show them in public because when people look at them, it makes me feel ugly. But you—I’ll show them to you.”
“Why?”
Her eyes soften and there is pain in them and then she buries her face in my shirt. “Because you’re mine.”
My hand wraps in her hair now and I stare at the sky, wondering if it is really going to be this easy. “Let’s go back,” I murmur.
We leave behind the glamour of the ball and in the car, it suddenly feels like something fundamental has shifted inside me.
Kendall isn’t touching me or looking at me, her eyes on the window, as if she’s deep in thought.
I let her be, my own thoughts plaguing me.
This woman, my woman, she’s not predictable, I’m starting to learn. And harsh times have ripped away her innocence. I can’t restore it, nor do I want to. She’s just as damaged as I am, and I want her for who she is now. The vulnerable girl who studied the world through rose tinted glasses can only be protected. This woman, who verbally claimed me just now, she’ll stand by my side, proudly.
We reach the hotel and then Kendall grasps my hand.
I see the hint of possessiveness in her eyes and I enjoy it. I wouldn’t have tolerated such from anyone else in the entire world but from her, it’s welcome.
We reach our suite and she doesn’t even bother changing. She simply takes off the earrings and I reach out and help her undo the clasp of her necklace. She carefully puts them in the box and then turns around to face me.
Then she sinks onto the bed, sitting down, her expression looks conflicted. “I have so many questions. I want answers. I want to know where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, why were you imprisoned.”
I go to the small mini bar and pour myself a drink and with an afterthought, I pour her one too. I offer it to her.
She grabs it and throws it back in her throat without flinching, making me arch a brow.
“My father was a corrupt FBI agent.” I’d never told her this and I see the shock in her eyes.
“He was FBI?” Kendall gapes at me.
I swirl the drink in my glass, gently, not wanting to recall the memories. “He wasn’t the only one. While he was working with the inside network, he was fine. I was around four when he decided to back out. But Skinner, the man who arrested me, he was also one of them, and he didn’t like the idea. My mother found out and begged him to leave, to take us and go. But my father had a lot of pride and he said he could fix it. He had started drinking at that point and he wasn’t exactly a pleasant drunk. It was somewhere around my seventh birthday that Skinner and his men broke into our house. They shot my mother and my father used me as a shield.”
Kendall releases an outraged gasp at this.
It had hurt at the time too.
“There was as sniper stationed outside who took the shot. I was sent to an orphanage after ‘Uncle Skinner’ ‒ who had used to come to all
my birthday parties and taken me bowling once ‒ murdered my parents.”
“You met me then,” Kendall murmurs.
“Five years later,” I say. “I didn’t like you in the beginning which you know. But you were so damned persistent on befriending me. And then I saw the way you were being bullied and how bravely you stood up to them and announced that I would beat them up because I was your friend. You were a crafty little thing, frightened and so brave.”
Kendall smiles fondly at the memory. “I remember that. I was hoping they would leave me alone if I threw your name in there. I was scared shitless. And then you showed up.”
“I couldn’t very well let them beat the stubborn little girl who kept sneaking her own bread to me when I was sent to bed without dinner.” I walk over to her and use my fingers to lift her chin up to meet her gaze. “I never intended to leave you, Kendall. You must know that. I promised you that when I got out, I would make a home for us. I just never imagined that Skinner would pin me with something and toss me in prison. He had to save his own skin, so he blamed me. I was pretty much homeless at that point, the money given to me hadn’t been sufficient to even survive.”
Kendall wraps her hands around my wrist, not pulling it away, not pulling herself away either, her eyes searching mine. “How did you get out?”
It doesn’t escape me that she’s much more willing to let me touch her now that she knows who I am. It makes me wonder whether I misjudged her reaction.
I rub my thumb over her lower lip, fascinated by how her hazel eyes darken at the gesture, and I murmur, “I started planning, changed lawyers. Till then, I had a state appointed attorney. This new lawyer was a younger one. He was fresh, eager, determined, fucking brilliant. You’ve met him.”
“Lucas,” she breathes out, her eyes widening.
I allow a small smile to play on my lips.
“But he told me you two were introduced by Lana.”
“That’s the story he and I prefer to use. Lana doesn’t know. Nobody knows except for the two of us, and now you. We went our separate ways after he cleared my name. Then, I decided to sue the FBI, and I called on him again. He bled them dry,” I say with grim satisfaction. “And I used my initial freedom to move about wary of Skinner’s people hunting me down. I gathered enough evidence on them, things I knew my father had kept to save his own skin, and the Lucas helped me put Skinner behind bars, and half the people that were dug out.”
Kendall looks at me with awe. “You must have been in your early twenties.”
“And you had been newly released from the home,” I say, unable to stop touching her, my hands moving to her hair where I start dragging out pin after pin, slowly. “I went there once I was settled. But Marie never let me in. She refused to divulge anything and told me to leave you alone.”
“She always did hate you.”
“Do you?” The question is forced from me, despite the evidence that she’s welcoming me into her arms.
“Do I hate you?” she repeats, staring at me. Now, she pushes my hands away from her frowns as she runs her fingers through her hair which I’ve deliberately undone and is now tumbling over her shoulders. She stares at me. “I’m upset that you lied to me. I’m upset that you manipulated me.”
“That was on both sides, sweetness,” I point out, the endearment rolling off my tongue easily.
She gives me a reluctant smile. “Maybe. But I don’t understand why you thought I would still turn my back on you after you told me all this.” She tugs at the end strands of her hair. “I don’t understand, what you want with me, despite the fact that you now have everything you could ever desire.”
“Not everything, Kendall,” I correct her. “I don’t have you, yet.”
“But why do you want me?” Her face is an open book, displaying her emotions, lost, wary, shaken. “I can’t offer you anything.”
My heart trembles with the force of my emotions as I watch her sit there, expecting me to demand something in return for everything I’ve given her, for what I want to give her yet. I find myself kneeling before her. “You gave me a second chance. You taught me to trust again, to love again. I told you, all this, this empire that I’ve built, it’s for you. I just want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
Her eyes shimmer and there’s a crack in her voice as she speaks, “What…about that woman, then? Reina Sheffield. You took her out to dinner and then…”
“And that’s all I did,” I admit, feeling lousy. “I was trying to piss you off. I was angry over what you’d said. Besides, Reina is… I’m assisting her with a family matter. She knows I’m not interested in her—”
The slap on my face makes me blink at the sting.
“Now, I feel better.” Kendall sounds satisfied. “Asshole.”
I put my hands on both sides of her hips, and loom over her. “That hurt.”
“Good.”
“Are you going to kiss it better?”
She gives me a prim look. “I don’t kiss my boss.”
“You did before.”
She gives me a long look. “I was drunk.”
“Liar,” I say lightly and kiss her on the nose, making her cross her eyes. “Kiss it better.”
“I don’t want to,” she says stubbornly.
I crawl over her until she’s resting on her elbows, leaning back, a triumphant look in her eyes. “Kiss yourself better.”
“I’d much rather you do it,” I murmur as I lean down and capture her lips in a kiss that is the farthest thing from gentle. It’s raw, wild and untamed.
I drink her in with a desperation I didn’t know I had.
She’s still leaning back on the bed and she kisses me back with a fervent hunger.
I wind one hand in the back of her hair, keeping her in place as I slant my mouth over hers, taking control of the kiss, while my other hand is on the bed, supporting me since I don’t want to crush her under me.
I lick along her lips and she parts them, and then my tongue is in her mouth as I taste her essence, explore her, swallow her moans. Her quiet gasp when she reaches out to me, to circle her arms around my neck to bring me closer ‒ the way she falls back on the bed, her hair forming a halo around her head ‒ it’s driving me insane.
I want more of her.
I want everything she has to give and more.
When we part for air, her chest is heaving, her lips swollen, and she looks torn. “I- I don’t.”
I can see it in her eyes, the uncertainty, the desire, the need, the yearning. It’s like my thoughts are being reflected in her.
This wasn’t the outcome I had expected. Neither had she, it seems.
She looks dazed and I plant another kiss on her lips, before pulling her into a sitting position, chuckling. “I can see this is going too fast for you.”
She lets me pull her up, then she rubs her hands over her thighs, scrunching up the dress which shimmers in the light at the movement, nervousness radiating from her. “It’s not that. When you left, we didn’t – I loved you.” She meets my gaze, head on. “I was in love with you.”
Her quiet confession has my breath catching, and then she lowers her pensive gaze to the carpet, making me ask, my chest tight, “And now?”
Her lips part as she tries to formulate a reply, “Now, I’ve started falling in love with Caleb Starr. But I can’t help but think whether it’s because of everything that you’ve been doing for me, the grand gestures, the kindness, the way you treat me in general, the smiles you give me, ones you only give to me. Was any of that the real you or just your manipulations?”
I take her hand. “I did, manipulate you, that is… I tried to. But you saw through most of them. And how I was with you that is who I am, under all these suits and glamor. With you, I was always myself. I couldn’t be anyone else. You bring it out in me. At first, I just wanted to provide for you and then at some point, I realized that it had gone far beyond that. I fell for you. I fell in love with you and then I tried to win you over.”
&nb
sp; She cracks a hesitant smile. “Didn’t make it easy for you, did I?”
I chuckle. “You were a pain in the ass.”
“I won’t apologize for that.” She narrows her eyes at me.
I kiss the back of her hand, my amber eyes on her hazel ones, making her flush. “I would never ask you to.”
She pulls away and looks annoyed. “You’ve become very smooth, haven’t you? Back then, getting you to say more than one sentence was difficult. And now, you don’t shut up.”
I laugh. “Not true. I do give you time to get in a word in yourself.”
She smacks me in the chest. “See. You don’t shut up. And now you say fancy things and stuff.”
I grasp her wrist when she reaches out to hit me again.
Sadistic little thing.
I pull her into my body and tuck her by my side like I used to do when we were kids.
She settles in, fitting like a piece of puzzle. After a few seconds, she asks in an almost child-like manner, “Do you really love me?”
“I’d say yes, but then you’d tell me to shut up,” I say, smirking.
She looks up at me, earnestly. “I won’t. Tell me.”
She looks so young in that moment, so hopeful, that I find myself transported back to the days when she came to me for reassurance, and I find myself lost as I smile. “I love you. You are my whole world, Kendall. I adore you.” With an afterthought, I add, “You’re still a pain in the ass.”
“Shut up!” She beams now.
Something in me melts at the happiness in her eyes.
“I love you, too,” she states with no hesitation. “I’ve always loved you.”
“I’m not the same person I was back then. I take what I want, damn the consequences. I’m not kind and I’m not considerate,” I whisper against her forehead. “And now I’ve taken you. I won’t give you back.”
Her eyes turn dark. “If I want to leave, I will. Don’t underestimate me, Caleb. I’m also not the same person I was back then. I’m my own person.”
I recall her encounter with Arthur, and I close my eyes fleetingly. “A battle of wills then. I’ll do my best to make sure you never want to leave me then.”
