BOUGHT: A Standalone Romance

by Glenna Sinclair

  “What about my car?”

  “I’m already on it,” he says, moving the phone away from his mouth. “Give me your car key.”

  I pry my apartment key from the ring before I pass it to him. As we’re waiting, a man in a black suit jogs up and takes them. Connor speaks to him quickly, before the man nods to me then slips behind the wheel of my car. I wonder what’s going on, but the only thing I really want at the moment is to be home, in the tub, with a bottle of wine in my hands.

  “Come on,” Connor says as he turns and begins to walk away.

  I hurry to keep up with his long stride. When we reach his car, he holds the door open for me, taking my bags as I slide into my seat. Once I’m in, he hands my bags back before he closes the door. When he’s settled into the passenger seat, he sees me struggling with my seatbelt still, the shaking in my hands making it a harder task than it should be. Connor pushes my hand away before he snaps the seatbelt in for me. I relax a little.

  The drive back is quiet, but it’s not the way that it used to be. There’s no awkwardness; no one is pissed off for once. Quietly, classical music from the radio fills the air, the soothing effect almost enough to lull me to sleep if I weren’t so wound up.

  I feel Connor’s hand on my knee. Surprised, I gaze up at him. His eyes are straight ahead on the road, but I can see the look on his face. He’s worried. Since when has Connor ever been worried about me? He doesn’t take his hand off of me for the entire drive, not until we pull up in front of my building.

  As soon as we reach my door, he loosens his tie before tossing it onto the couch. Rolling up his sleeves, he disappears into my kitchen. Dumbly, I follow behind him, curious as to what he’s doing. When I step into the kitchen, he’s already pulling down a bottle of wine and uncorking it. He pours two tall glasses of the red liquid before he passes one to me.

  “Put your food away and take your clothes off.”

  “I’m not really in the—”

  “Do what I say.”

  I don’t offer any opposition. Once he’s left the kitchen, I stick my leftovers in the fridge before heading back out to the living room. He’s already seen me naked once, but it feels weird being naked when I have no idea what he has in mind. I take my clothes off slowly, laying them on the couch and wondering where he’s gone.

  “Come on up.” His voice travels down the stairs.

  I climb them slowly, until I can hear the sound of running water from the bathroom. Ducking inside, I see he’s already filled the bathtub. My favorite bubble bath, lilac, sits on the floor, and bubbles are almost spilling over it. Connor takes my hand, easing me into the tub before he hands me a wine glass.

  “Take a minute. Relax. When you’re done, we’re going to talk about what had you so spooked today.”

  I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t say a word. Connor wanders away, and I wonder what he’s getting into as I sink beneath the bubbles. The warm water calms me down a little more, until I’m no longer trembling, no longer so afraid. Sighing, I sip on the glass of wine. I don’t know what to tell him about Nathan, but for now, I decide to enjoy the things that he’s done for me.

  Zoey was right about one thing: he wasn’t so bad after all. I lean my head against the back of the tub, close my eyes, and drain my wine from the glass as quickly as I can. By the time it’s empty, my eyelids feel heavy. The sound of Connor walking into the room makes me jump a little, but he holds up a hand, doesn’t say a word, and pours me another glass. I could get used to him being around more, I think as I drink that glass too.

  Three glasses later, I’m more than a little tipsy. My water has gone from hot to tepid, and my skin is wrinkled. Connor helps me out of the tub, wraps me in a towel, and puts another around my hair before he leads me into my bedroom. I’m slightly embarrassed by the fact that my bed is so messy from the morning, but not sober enough to be mortified.

  Connor digs around for a moment before he hands me a pair of shorts and a tank top. I slip into them, with a little help from his hands steadying me, before he dries my hair. Once he gets me in the bed, he clears the rest of the clothes off, dumping them in the dirty hamper to make room for himself so that he can sit beside me.

  “Why are you being so nice?” I blurt out suddenly.

  He stops, blanket in hand. “I don’t know. You were really annoying at first, a generic party girl in my eyes. The more I get to know you, though, the more of you I get to see. You’re not like everyone else. Although you’re a call girl, you’re definitely not doing it for any shallow reasons.”

  “How do you know all of that?”

  Connor shrugs. “I watch, listen, and observe. It’s not that complicated. Now,” he says, sitting next to me, “tell me what happened today.”

  How can I tell him that? I’ve never told anyone that. Nathan is a deep, dark corner of my past that should stay where it is now. Dead. Instead, every few years he crops back up, ready again to ruin my life in some fun and unexpected way. Nathan didn’t just like to see me suffer: he liked to see me crash and burn.

  I wrap my arms around myself even though my room is nice and cozy. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Too bad. You obviously need help, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. Besides,” he rests a hand on my back, “Zoey already told me a little bit about it. Why don’t you just fill me in?” he asks gently.

  I don’t know if it’s his gentle tone or the sad look in his eyes, but the tears are suddenly flowing and I can’t get them to stop. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I bury my face into my arms. For a while, I’m sobbing too hard to be able to say a word. Connor sits patiently, not rushing me, not pushing me.

  Anger begins to boil up. Why can’t I stop crying? It burns my throat, makes my breath hitch as I try to regain control of myself. Slowly, I stop them up. No, I’m not going to cry over him anymore. Zoey was right once again. I can’t keep living in fear of him; I have to stand up for myself. I have to fight back.

  “I was married once,” I say quietly.

  Connor raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything in response to this revelation. I start slowly telling him what happened. Before I know it, the words are spilling out of my lips at record speed.

  I tell him all about how I’d fallen in love at fourteen. My boyfriend at the time was two years older than me, but he was smart, kind, patient. He was perfect, or my definition of perfect.

  “Then what happened?” Connor asks, eyes narrowed.

  “He changed. It was subtle at first, you know? He would tell me to wear this skirt, put my hair up like this, don’t wear that makeup. I listened to him because I loved him and I thought that was what you did in a relationship. By the time I turned sixteen, things had gotten really bad. One time, he got so pissed off at me for speaking to our waiter at a restaurant. When we got home, he beat me until all I could do was lie on the floor and cry. What could I do? My parents had kicked me out of the house. I had no money. I relied on him for everything.”

  “Why did your parents kick you out?” Connor asks quietly.

  I shrug. “Differences in opinion? Mostly, it was me being stubborn and rebellious. I wasn’t appreciative of what I had. Anyway,” I say, running my hand over my eyes, “we were married two years later. Needless to say, things just got worse. Finally, one night I packed up my bags and ran away. I had been saving up every scrap of change that I could find for two years, and it was still barely enough to get me by. I ended up getting into stripping, and then I became a call girl. I found out that I was good at it, and it helped me get away from him.”

  “Now he’s back?”

  I nod. “Yes, he’s back. From what Zoey tells me, he’s not very far away.” I laugh. “I’m terrified. Once again, I’m going to have to move away if I can’t find a way to deal with him.”

  “What about the police?”

  Again I laugh, the sound holding not even a hint of amusement. “What about them? Being as rich as you are, I’m sure the p
olice jump to come to your aid. Not for me, though. I was too afraid to report him years ago, so they won’t issue me a protective order or even file a report. It’s been too long. Now, the only thing I can do is run.”

  Connor reaches over and pulls me into his arms. I haven’t told him even a fraction of the things that had gone on when I lived with Nathan, but he seems to feel my pain. He wraps his arms around me tightly. It comforts me more than anything has in a long time. I can feel the tears stinging at my eyes once more. Biting my lip, I take a deep, shuddering breath.

  “I won’t let you run away again,” he mumbles against my ear. “You’re mine now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Besides,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I have ways of dealing with guys like Nathan. He’ll have a much harder time putting me in a hospital.”

  I raise an eyebrow. What is that supposed to mean? And how does he know Nathan had ever put me in the hospital? That bit, I’d kept to myself, because it was a painful moment that I don’t enjoy thinking about, not even for a moment. Still, how had Connor known?

  The thought pops into my head that maybe he was researching me, digging into my background. Why Nathan’s background, though? He had nothing to do with my current life until today. The whole thing makes me a bit uneasy. Connor is acting more and more as though I’m his possession, his property. I don’t care for it.

  Connor helps me up from the bed before we head downstairs together. He situates me on the couch, hands me the remote, and disappears into the kitchen. I can hear him ordering something as I channel surf, drunkenly looking for something to watch. When he comes back in, he pulls me over to him until my head is resting on his shoulder.

  I wonder how I’ve never noticed how good he smells. His cologne isn’t overbearing, but it’s almost exotic smelling. I bury my face in his shirt before I turn to look at the TV. His fingers graze my arm gently, that silence sense of support never fading away.

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Thank you.” I glance up at him. “For everything.”

  Connor doesn’t say a word. Instead, he leans down and kisses me on my forehead. The spot tingles for a moment, and I wonder what’s happening to me. Am I really falling for someone that I couldn’t stand just a little while ago?

  Once the food has disappeared from our plates, Connor runs his hands up my thighs. His nails scratch against my skin, and a moan falls from my lips. I glance at him as his fingers nestle between my thighs. A shiver runs through me as he strokes my clit softly. It’s as if I’m not falling for him, but possessed by him, I realize. Every movement he makes, I watch, enamored. And he seems to do the same thing with me. Before I have any more time to think, he presses his mouth against mine, his tongue darting between my lips.

  “You’re mine,” he mumbles against my mouth, making me shiver.

  I can think tomorrow.

  Chapter Six

  “Are you getting ready?”

  “Yeah!” I call down the stairs as I sit on my bed.

  Okay, so I lied. I’m most definitely not getting ready. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t want to leave this place. My apartment has been a quiet sanctuary for so long. It’s the longest home I’ve had snice I was kicked out of my parents’ place. I run a hand over my pillow. For once, fond memories flood my mind as I think about Connor on top of me, his gaze holding me in rapture as he thrusts into me.

  “Do I have to come up there? I don’t hear moving!”

  Sighing, I push myself off of the bed. I know that he’s right. Zoey is too. My place isn’t safe. There’s no way to tell when Nathan will pop up. I know I asked him to help me, but he’s a bit overwhelming already. I vaguely wonder if he’s helping me move for my benefit, or for his own. After all, he still needs my help. The only way I can help him is to be alive.

  “He could always just get someone else,” I mumble to myself.

  However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that he can’t. It’s too close to the end date for him to find someone to replace me. Oh well, it’s not like I’m not used to dealing with men using me for their own purposes. I’ll just have to live with it for now.

  Connor was back to his normal self in the morning. I’d noticed it right away, the stiffness that made him short-tempered and cranky when dealing with me. I almost wish I hadn’t asked for his help, but I can’t do everything on my own. Not with Nathan back in the picture and looking for me. Still, it hurts my pride to have to rely on Connor.

  I wonder how someone could change so fast. How he could go from being so sweet the night before, back to his old, demanding self the next day. Maybe he just wanted to fuck me. Then again, he could get that from any girl. He’s smart, successful, handsome…it isn’t exactly as if he has to beg.

  My phone rings, forcing me to dig inside of it all the way to the bottom. When I pull out my phone, I see Zoey’s number flash on the screen. I haven’t heard from her since the day before. I’ll admit, I feel really guilty about the way I left, but I’d been too afraid to try to call her first.

  “How are you holding up?” Zoey asks, as if the day before never happened. That’s why I love her.

  “I’m fine. Connor agreed with you that I should move somewhere else for a while until things calm down.”

  “You could always come stay with me.”

  I laugh. “And have to deal with your parade of men? No, thank you. We’ve tried living together before, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” she says, as if just remembering, “we did. Yeah, let’s not repeat that. Where are you going?”

  “A hotel that Connor stays in sometimes. It’s near his house.”

  “Ooooh, have you been to his house yet?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “You’re in for a treat. That man has some really good taste.”

  We chat for a while longer, the normalcy of the conversation making me feel more comfortable. In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder how I came to have two sweet, understanding people in my life who know how to handle a crisis. I’ve never been good at that; I crack under pressure. Not Connor and Zoey, though. They seem to thrive.

  “Well,” Zoey says, breaking into my thoughts, “don’t forget to come by tomorrow. We’re going to have lunch.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then and fill you in on everything.”

  As soon as I’m done talking with her, a text from Connor pops up on my phone. It’s short and sweet, in true Connor form: Hurry up. I don’t know whether to throw my phone or stomp downstairs and slap some sense inside of his head. It’s bad enough that I’m having a hard time. I don’t need more of that.

  I’m left to look around the half-empty apartment I called home. Mostly, the only memories I have of the place were of loneliness, but it was my place to be away from the world. My personal sanctuary that no one was allowed to enter, except for Zoey and Connor. Now, I’ll be going somewhere new, again. I run my hand over the couch, and almost sit down, when I hear a knock on the door.

  Did I forget to unlock the door for Connor? Apparently. I push myself back up before I stroll over to the door. Opening it up, I’m surprised to see two people standing at my door. One of them is a woman with a baseball cap pulled down low. The other is a little boy with raven black hair and big, blue eyes. He’s carrying a skateboard under his arm, a nervous expression on his face.

  “C-can I help you?”

  “Oh my goodness,” the woman says, pressing a hand to her chest. “It is you. Wow, you look so different now. Well, we did only meet one or twice, twice I believe…” The woman trails off, deep in thought. “Anyway.” She waves a hand as if to dismiss the thought. “It’s been a long time, but I’m Mary Beth. Mary Beth Taylor.”

  A lump forms in my throat. No, she can’t be here. This can’t be happening. I step back into my apartment. The woman rests her hands on the boy’s shoulders and steers him inside. I take another step back as the woman politely closes t
he door behind her. The boy is staring at me, hard.

  “What do you want?” I ask, the words coming out much sharper than I’d intended.

  “I know this is against everything we’ve agreed on, but I had to bring him here.” The woman pauses long enough to cough. The sound of it is horrible, like something wet rattling in her chest. She pulls out a tissue, wipes at her mouth. “Angela, I’m dying.”

  “What?” I ask dumbly.

  The woman nods. “Cancer.”

  I look at her more closely. When I knew Mary Beth, she was the picture of health and beauty. A little plump, with long, thick blonde hair, easygoing smile, and soft blue eyes. Now, her eyes are sunken, with dark marks underneath them, and she’s so skinny. I can see that the clothes she’s wearing are almost swallowing her up.

  “What are you saying?” I ask her slowly.

  “I can’t keep him anymore. I don’t have any family. There’s no one that can take him in. You’re the only option that I had. It looks like I got here just in time,” she mumbles as she gazes around.

  “What about your husband?” I ask quickly.

  Mary shakes her head. “He passed away two years back. Car accident.” She crosses herself. “I really don’t have any other option. Please. I think it’s time. Kyle’s been asking questions about you for six months now. He found one of the letters that I was writing to you by mistake.”

  I glance down at the boy. He pushes long hair out of his face, his expression a mix of fascination and anger. My mouth is dry; I’m lost for words. What do I say to him? The panic that I felt the day before was nothing compared to this feeling. Connor jogs into the apartment and looks between all of us, confused.

  “What’s going on?”

  Kyle is the first one to break the silence. “Are you my real mom?”

  Chapter Seven

  I blink. Mary, Connor, and Kyle all stare at me expectantly. Words try to form on the tip of my tongue, but I find myself choking on them as I stutter nervously. I’ve never really been good at dealing with my problems, so I do the first thing that comes to mind. I run.