I’m thrown for a loop and have to sit down when I see her looking at me as if I’m not…right, as if I’ve actually done something wrong. And then I get angry.
“What are you talking about?”
I want her to say it, spell it out for me, tell me that she’s examined me and found me lacking. Because isn’t that what I always got from Remy? Didn’t I pour myself into her when we were younger—tutoring her, spending hours helping her with homework and studying, and debate team? Didn’t I spend all my time working to help her, always hoping that she would eventually see me and want me?
And didn’t she prove to me already that she doesn’t have what it takes to see past the surface.
“You were so vicious, Chase. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. How can you be so different at home and yet so…inhuman…?”
That kills me, slays me, and shatters what I have managed to build with Remy. All I see when I look at her sitting on my sofa, her eyes full of recriminations, is the shallow girl I once loved more than my own pride. More than my own fucking safety!
I’ve been wrong. I ran home to mum, let my dad send me away with my tail between my legs after defending a girl that I now see clearly doesn’t deserve to be defended. I’ve managed somehow through all these years to build her up into something she clearly isn’t, assigned all the blame on that group of schoolboys while absolving her of her part.
And most of all, I now see that I have wasted years of my life working toward earning someone that clearly is not worth my time of day.
“You’re a real piece of work you know that?” I accuse, coming off the sofa to stalk to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a drink.
My victory and the pride I feel each time I defeat an opponent and save myself from being beaten turns to ashes in my mouth. I wash it away with booze.
I close off my emotions before I turn back to face her and it takes a huge effort for me not to rage at her and demand that she love me—me, the man who always defended her, wanted her, cherished her.
At this moment, I know that I’ve been fooling myself. I don’t like Remy—I fucking loved her—and my heart is broken. I am literally dying inside at this newest betrayal and disappointment.
“I’m a piece of work? Who the hell was that guy?” she demands again, her eyes misting.
The action enrages me further. I feel myself wanting to do something I have never contemplated before in my life. Not with regards to a defenseless woman.
I want to throw her out of my house, the fucking house I made for her and the family we’d have one day. I want to abandon her on the streets and leave her at the mercies of whoever hurt her before.
And then sanity returns and I immediately feel guilty and regret that thought. I would never wish that on anyone, especially not Remy. Jesus, I’m angry but she’s my woman and the thought of her being hurt twists my gut.
“Obviously, you don’t like what you saw tonight and for that, well, I’m not sorry. That is one aspect of me, one small aspect of the man I made myself into a long time ago. You don’t like it, fine. No more fights for you.”
“Are you saying that level of violence is part of who you are?”
Yes! Because they took a part of me away and I had to learn to survive. You also took a part of me I wanted to get back by cherishing you and now—
“Yes. Those fights are not about violence for me. They are a display of the skills I have acquired over a decade. Any man who steps into the cage understands and accepts the possibility of being defeated or injured.”
I see her tremble and feel a part of myself that I haven’t quite managed to lock away shrivel in my chest. She’s afraid of me—no, not afraid, wary—as if she believes that I would callously use my skill to hurt others for the sake of causing pain. I resent the hell out of her for that, and I do want her to suffer.
And I know how I’ll make that happen.
“Chase, I’m not sure I can accept that.”
“You don’t have to accept anything about me, Remy. I am who I am and it’s not for you to judge…as if you have any room to talk.” I sneer, feeling the bitterness spill over. “You think you, or any of your set, are so much better than me? You spent how many years married to a man who fucked anyone but you and had so little respect for you that he fucked your cousin.”
Low.
She flinches, and I see a tear gather at the corner of her eye before she blinks and stiffens her spine.
“If you think that poorly of me we shouldn’t be together? I’d like to leave.”
“And go where, babe? Your parents disowned you and you have nowhere else to go. I suppose I could give you money to go to a hotel, but how long do you think you’d last out there without my protection?” I ask conversationally, the cool mask I’ve worn so well slipping back into place.
She blanches, and I have to throttle back a sting of guilt when her chin quivers with hurt. Good, let it hurt as much as her judgement hurts me.
“I—”
“See, the truth is that you have nowhere else to go. You have no family and the only friend you have is currently in a relationships with my best mate. Guess who he’ll choose.”
“What do you want from me?”
Oh, so she has learned to dry up those crocodile tears in the years since she’s been married to that pig, Brian. Good, because from here on out I am going to use her to get what I want, fulfil every goal I set out to accomplish, and I don’t give a fuck if it hurts her delicate sensibilities or not.
“What I wanted from the first time I saw you. You will be my wife. You will give me the family I crave, and you will never, ever look down your nose at me again.”
“No.”
“Oh yes, Remy. What other choice do you have? You no longer have a job after I call your boss tomorrow morning. You have no money, no family, no one to turn to. I am all you’ve got.”
Her cast hits the floor with a thud and I see her flinch with pain as she struggles to her feet with a groan and stands to look at me, her spine stiff.
“Why?”
“I told you. I always win.”
Chapter 21
Remy
I want to slap his face and rage, scream—something that will show him how much I hate what he’s doing as he stands there staring at me, his face an impenetrable mask but for the anger I seem to have inspired.
I’m so mad right now I can’t stand it. I want to hate him for being this guy, the same shark I saw in that cage. I want to hate him so bad.
I do, but when I teeter on my aching leg the infernal man does the exact opposite of what I expect. He strides forward, sweeps me up into his arms and takes to the stairs, his long legs eating up the distance to the master bedroom.
I feel my muscles groan in relief when he gently lowers me to the mattress. My leg feels the immediate relief of pressure, though it’s still thumping from my clumsiness downstairs.
“Here.”
I open my eyes to see Chase standing over me holding a glass of water and two pills.
“No.”
His eyes flare in annoyance, obliterating the small concern I think I glimpsed there. He tries to give me the pills and fails again.
“Christ. Just take the Goddamned pills, Remy. You’re in pain,.” he says through gritted teeth.
“No.”
I’m not doing this to be contrary or spiteful. I have yet to take one pain pill since the abduction, and I just can’t get over that hurdle of fear no matter how hard I try.
I feel safe here with Chase—crazy violent displays in the cage not withstanding—and I should feel secure enough to be knocked out by two harmless pills. Nonetheless, every time I so much as think about taking them I feel fear choke me.
I actually feel on the verge of a panic attack at the thought of being unconscious and helpless, and no matter how I try to convince myself that I’m okay, I can’t get past it.
“Fine.”
He stalks back into the bathroom and I hear him slam the me
dicine cupboard before he comes back with the water and places it beside the bed.
“At least drink the water. You’re white as a bleeding ghost.”
I obey, if only to wet my dry throat and distract my frazzled brain, draining the glass and lying back with a sigh. Chase closes his eyes for a brief beat and stalks to the bedside.
“I’ll undress you and help you get comfortable.”
“I’m fine.”
Okay, that is just spite because I know there’s no way I’m getting undressed and into my night wear without half killing my leg.
“Fuck. Just shut up and let me do it.”
He ignores my puny struggles and strips me down to my underwear before lifting me and placing me beneath the sheet. His eyes are hot, banked pools of flame by the time my semi-nudity is covered and I grimace, shooting him a glare.
“Forget it.”
He smirks, a truly gleeful expression tilting his lips and stands back arms folded.
“I’ll take you whenever and wherever I want, and you know what, Remy? You won’t be able to resist me because you want me as much as I want you. We may not be compatible right now but we both know that the minute I touch you, your body belongs to me. I have the click in my jaw to prove it.”
I blush, as mortified as I am angry because I can deny it all I want, but we both know it’s true. My body is a slave to Chase. All it takes for me to want him is the sound of his voice.
Even now, as confused and angry as I am at him I see his t-shirt stretching over his arms, and the way his shorts adhere to the hard ass I love to lick, and I feel myself go all hot and gooey inside and outside.
This time though, instead of getting all itchy with need, I feel a slow lethargy infuse me and—
“What did you do?”
He comes in and leans closer, his lips feathering gently over mine.
“You’re in pain. Let the medication work. Please.”
Oh Goddammit. I’m fighting it even as I feel my eyes start drifting shut and I absolutely hate that instead of being pissed at such a huge betrayal, all I see is the concern and relief in his eyes, the combination making me feel warm and grateful.
“Scared,” I whisper from behind slack lips and closed eyes that refuse to open.
I hear rustling, and then the bed dips before his arms envelop me, pulling me into the safe, comforting strength I’d reviled just moments ago.
“Sleep, babe. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
***
I spend the next week alternating between regret and feeling vindicated about pulling away from Chase and a deeper connection. The morning after our…showdown I guess, he’d woken up, showered and dressed in a three-piece charcoal business suit that I still drool over just remembering.
I’d been rested and gloriously pain free then and in a good enough mood to turn on my side and attempt an apology. It went something like this.
“Chase.”
He turns to me, his eyes taking in my sprawl and the way the sheet rides up my leg where the cast sticks out and I swear I see not only desire there but a flicker of affection.
“What?”
So cold again that I feel a measure of uncertainty but forge ahead anyway, needing to explain to him that I’m not against his…hobby. I was just so stunned that a man I’d debated Utopian Ideals with had the capacity to not only beat a man so badly, but one of his best friends.
“I just wanted to say—”
“Save it. You don’t have to say anything. Or you don’t have anything to say that I want to hear. I’m going to work. Hensley will be here, and I’ve hired a nurse to see to your needs.”
Nothing more is said and I watch him walk out as if he doesn’t give a shit. His behavior is at odds with the sensitive man who held me and rocked me as the sedative—not pain pill—took me under.
That’s how it’s been all week. Hensley comes over and watches me while a nurse bustles around. She’s a complete waste since Hen carries me to the bathroom and back. Chase won’t listen so I stopped saying anything.
In fact we don’t speak. At all. He comes home and we eat a silent dinner before he takes me upstairs and gets me ready for bed. Then he forces me to take a pill and goes to shower. I’m usually knocked out by the time he comes to bed.
Each day is an excruciating repeat of the day before.
Well, besides today when I remembered what he'd said about my job and called the center.
So yeah, today is different because I am so mad I’m vibrating. According to the receptionist, I sent a letter of resignation. On top of that, the mayor decided that with budget cuts, the staff needed to be ‘reviewed.’
I am officially unemployed and without any options. All I have is Chase. He runs my life, even calling the nurse to ensure that I eat and that I’ve taken the shot the doctor prescribed since she still can’t get me to take the pills.
I only accept the shot because Hensley has no problem pinning me down and forcing the thing into my arm.
So yeah, today I’m angry, but more than that, I feel guilty. Brick made an appearance and after a long talk, I know that I made a huge mistake.
I saw Chase fighting and attributed it to him being a violent person. Brick explained that his fighting is as much a discipline as a rush for him, and that for someone with his skills, Chase is capable of doing a lot more damage.
That made me think, and I am ashamed to admit that his strength freaked me out not because of him, but because it reminded me of the helplessness I’d felt when I’d been hurt in high school.
When he’d pinned Brick and kept him immobile, forcing him to tap out, I didn’t see a man who was taking care to secure a victory without hurting his friend. I saw those dark shadows and felt their arms subduing me, making me helpless.
I have a choice to make now. I can either save my pride from further let downs—since every time I try to talk to Chase he reminds me my opinions don’t matter—or I can just go ahead and give him my apology and try to tell him why I reacted the way I did, not that it’s any excuse or justifies my judgmental attitude.
I’m going to try the latter I decide—not because I’m expecting anything because at this point I don’t expect a thing—but because he deserves to know that he’s not the one I find lacking.
It’s me.
Chapter 22
Chase
“So after this comes off everything is fine?”
The doctor smiles at me ruefully and goes on with examining Remy, his gray beard not effective enough at hiding his amusement. I twist my lips and incline my head, acknowledging my behavior but helpless to stop it.
It seems that no matter how angry or disappointed I am with Remy, I can’t stop caring about her. I hold her at night when she takes her medicine and whimpers in her sleep, the nightmares a nasty reminder that—while I feel hurt and let down—I had failed her at one point too.
“Yes. The cast is off and I’ve examined the new scans and X-rays. The break healed well and with the pins your leg should be good. Not as good as new, as we've before, it can and probably will cause some pain at some point, but it has healed well.”
Remy nods and smiles at the doctor, thanking him and his team for doing a fantastic job.
I thank him too, though I let him know that I am not pleased with the thin scar that now graces her shin or the tiny red scar on her knee.
“Oh hush, Chase. It’s perfectly fine. One little scar won’t kill me.”
No, but I fully remember what almost did and the fact that that scar will always be there is a reminder of that harrowing ordeal. Not only for her and Liv, but also for those hours of fear and self-loathing that Gabe and I endured.
Now we’re in the car and driving home and I have the intense urge to talk to her, anything to erase that sad, beaten down look off her face. I know why it’s there. I feel like shit about what I did, but every time I consider rectifying it, I think what if she goes back to work and finds a way to leave me?
Wh
at if somehow I lose her because I know Remy, and even being alone—as I pointed out to her—she’ll come up swinging and just forge her own path.
And she will leave me.
I can’t have that. As fucked up as it sounds, even being this angry doesn’t make me want her any less and I’d rather live a lifetime with her, unhappy and sniping at each other, than live a day knowing that she’s not mine.
That, of course, is all due to my messed up mind having already staked a claim there and, well, I’m not the kind of guy to just give up and let something go. No, I fight and find a way to change things and make them what I want.
So I’ve decided to make Remy into my perfect ideal.
I just hope she’s capable of being what I want after she showed me her true colors.
I hear her sigh in the passenger seat and feel her turn.
“Okay, so I’ve been trying to talk to you for a couple of days and you won’t let me.”
“So you think now that I’m driving you can ambush me,” I muse, feeling a grin tug at my lips.
For whatever reason, Remy and I will never be the perfect match. But I still find it terribly amusing that she and I are so alike in so many ways. The woman is stubborn and strong and so crafty in the way she handles things.
She’s got the right idea about biding her time and waiting to ambush me, unfortunately I’m not new to this game and I’m most certainly not ready to hear what it is she wants to say. I’m afraid she’ll say something I won’t like—something that I can’t forget and no amount of effort on our parts will repair it—and I’m not willing to risk it.
“You should know that I am not interested in what you have to say to me. I told you, Rem. You and I are going the distance. Do I love you? No. Do I think we will ever be that married couple who can’t live without each other?”
I laugh scornfully and keep my eyes on the road, feeling secure when I see Brick’s SUV pull in behind us.
“Chase, I—”
“But we can make what we have work. We’re great in bed together and we have the same goals. We both want a family.” I cut in, hating the hitch in her breath. “You will be a good mother and what’s more, you will be an asset as my wife. With your breeding, my image will be perfect.”
LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) Page 39
