The Fall of Troy

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  I wanted him to stay. I wanted his anger. I wanted to fight him. I wanted it because the alternative was that he was going to walk out of that room like he hadn’t just told me that I had to let go of the only thing saving my life.

  “You’re right,” I admitted with a voice that felt like it was dragged over gravel to get here. “I didn’t think about the future. All I could think about was her.” It was getting harder and harder to breathe again. “I love her, Jack.”

  His eyes pitied me, but it was held back by the hard cage of his expression—of responsibility, duty, and betrayal.

  He turned for the door. “Love is not a defense. Love doesn’t matter here.”

  My shoulders sagged as the door closed, once again confining me to the loneliness I should be accustomed to. “No, Jack, love is the only thing that matters.”

  It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

  From the moment I walked out of his office the other day, I’d only had a few seconds where everything felt right—where it all felt like it was going to be okay. I told myself it was fear and I shouldn’t listen to it. But fear isn’t a bully. Fear is calm and coaxing. It finds all the facts and rationalizes why feelings don’t matter except for fear itself.

  The registrar said it would take a few weeks before I heard whether or not I got the spot. I should say something to my mom, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was that the promise between Léo and me was fragile. Delicate.

  And then he wasn’t in class on Friday. The head of the department, Jack Moreau, spoke to us instead. I tried not to read into it. But when I walked in for the studio session and only Giselle was standing there… when she looked at me with pity… when she looked at me like she knew, I watched the world begin to crumble around me.

  I tore out of the building. My sneakers slipped and slid in the snow and I ran block after block toward his apartment. Two steps at a time until I reached the door, my fist banging on it before I’d even taken a second to catch my breath.

  And when the door yanked open, the man on the other side of it wasn’t the one who’d told me that he couldn’t live without me; it was the man who hated himself, whose rage was the only thing pumping through his veins and keeping him alive.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Wh…what?” I choked. Shaking my head in disbelief, I pushed through him into the tiny space, afraid that he would shut the door in my face if I didn’t.

  Not that there was much in his apartment before, but there was a new addition to the room that was unmistakable. A suitcase.

  “What is going on?” I spun on him and demanded. “I thought… We were…”

  “I’m leaving, Troian. I’m flying back to Paris tonight.” At least it wasn’t ‘Miss Milanovic.’

  The chill that whipped over my body was a thousand times worse than the freezing weather outside. My heart iced over. This was what it had been dreading. It had known. Somehow.

  “Why, Léo? What happened?” I asked with a strangled voice, stepping toward him.

  “They know.”

  My eyes squeezed shut. “W-what?”

  “They know about us,” he gritted out. “They know. So, I’m leaving before it ruins our lives.”

  “But…” I didn’t understand. I couldn’t. “I’m an adult. I… I make my own choices. You didn’t force me. You didn’t make me do this. I-if anything I made you!”

  “It doesn’t matter, ma petite. It doesn’t matter.” The worst sound in the world. Hopelessness.

  “T-they’re making you go?” I repeated, still struggling to understand.

  He nodded and walked around me.

  “I’m coming,” I blurted out.

  His harsh laugh burned down my skin. “You can’t come, Troian. You live here. You’re going to school here.”

  “I applied to study abroad. I applied to study in Paris,” I blurted out like it was a magical solution. I should have told him sooner. I should have told him in his office the other day. Maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn’t have given up on us.

  His growl was the introduction of his face into mine. “Why, Troian? Why? I told you there was no future for us. Mon Dieu, I fucking told you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘why?’” I exclaimed, tears spilling out. “Because I love you, that’s why!”

  “You’re too young to know what that word means. And what we have isn’t worth it.”

  I saw red. Blinding, raging red. I saw myself reach for his arm and turn him to face me as my other hand shot out and slapped him.

  “How. Dare. You?” I whispered, gasping for air. I could forgive him for being an asshole, but I couldn’t forgive him for being a liar. Especially about this.

  “You want to fight me on this?” His voice was cold as steel and just as sharp.

  I gasped when his hand locked around my wrist and spun me around, his hips pressing mine into the kitchen counter. I felt him, hard and aroused pressed against my ass.

  “I love you, Léo.” That was how I would fight him. “And I know you love me. I’m coming to Paris. Stop letting them tell you that you don’t deserve this.”

  “I’m telling you that you don’t deserve this, Troian,” he spat in my ear. “You don’t deserve a man like me. One who can’t give you a future. One who, if anything, is only going to take your future from you.”

  “I want you.” I rolled my ass back against him.

  “Is that what you want, Troy?” he growled. “You want me to fuck you? Because that’s the only thing I can give.”

  One hand held my wrist pinned back between us. The other had reached around and loosened my pants, his fingers jamming down inside my underwear in search of my clit.

  With a groan, his forehead dropped onto my shoulder when he found my slickness.

  “What have I done to deserve this?” he rasped. “Always so wet and warm, begging me to come home.”

  “Because I love you… because you belong with me, Léo,” I moaned as his fingers rubbed expertly over my clit. “And because you love me.”

  “I’ve already taken so much from you.” He pushed my clothes down over my hips. “I shouldn’t take more. You should hate me, ma petite.”

  “I-I do.” I shuddered, feeling him free himself from his pants. “I loathe you.”

  He tipped me forward and drove into me from behind with a tortured groan.

  I gasped as he filled me over and over again. My emotions were all over the place—complete chaos. And his, his were suppressed, his were hated. But I could always find him here, because here there was no student and teacher. There was no needy little girl or melancholic, broken man. There was no past. There was no future.

  There was just Troy and Léo. There was just this present where, without the clutter, the only thing that was clear was how much we needed each other.

  I writhed and moaned underneath him, needing release. Praying that it would change reality. He stayed silent. I wished I could see him, hear him. Instead, all I heard was the slap of his flesh against mine, the slick squeezing of my pussy around his thick cock.

  His hand returned to my front, toying with my clit as he slammed against my G-spot.

  “Take me, Troy,” he bit out. “Take all of me.”

  I bit hard into my cheek as his thrusts became furious and erratic. He fucked me the way he loved me—desperately and without control.

  “Come, me petite.”

  I cried out as my body obeyed.

  “And then let me go.”

  A scream tore from my chest as I came, clenching around him. My hips jerked against his fingers as they soothed my clit through the storm. With a curse, he pulled out of me and came all over my ass.

  And in the midst of the pleasure wracking my body, I wanted to cry, knowing that I’d lost him.

  Not wanted. I did cry. My shoulders shook as tears slipped silently down my cheeks. I didn’t move. Léo cleaned me and tugged my pants back up and fastened them before he pulled me upright and around to face him.


  “Don’t cry, Troian,” he whispered, his thumbs tenderly wiping the tears from my cheeks. “This isn’t meant to be.”

  I shook my head again. “N-no.” I refused to believe it. “I-I’m coming to Paris. I applied.”

  He kissed my forehead. “They’ll never let you. Not after this.”

  I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to tell him that I’d stand in front of them and slice myself apart limb by limb until they understood that this wasn’t their decision to make.

  “I’m not letting you go,” I swore, wrapping my arms around his neck that was ramrod straight, trying to keep his face from mine. “I’m not letting this go.”

  “Sometimes, life doesn’t give us a choice, ma petite.” He held me for a moment that was long enough to convince me that I was right to fight. Disentangling himself from my arms, he yanked his suitcase to him.

  All the words I’d already said and wanted to repeat lodged in my throat as his careless composure slowly but surely covered up any last little bit of hope, cutting him off from me.

  “I loathe you,” I whispered as he opened the door to the apartment.

  “I know,” he said softly without looking back. “I loathe you, too.”

  Aux objets répugnants nous trouvons des appas.

  The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone. In defeat and desolation. In ruin…

  Troy had fallen.

  To be continued…

  Troy and Léo’s story continues in Book 2 of the Odyssey Duet:

  The Judgment of Paris

  To my husband—Always for you, Mr. GQ.

  To my family and friends—I’m so blessed to have all of you in my life.

  To Nadine, BJ, and Kassa—Thank you for helping me make this book the best that it could be! Your input was invaluable! I LOVE YOU!

  To Najla—Thank you for taking each and every one of my ideas and making them more beautiful than I ever imagined! Not very many things inspire me to bust out my art supplies again, but your work on my cover did.

  To Ellie—Thank you for all your hard work on this book baby! And for loving Léo.

  To Stacey—Thank you for the magic you work between the covers! ;)

  To all the bloggers who work enthusiastically to help me spread the word about each and every one of my stories! Duchess, Caitlin, Ashley, Shelly, Cassie, Elizabeth, Mary, Mackenzie, Cassandra, Patricia, Autumn… There are so many of you that, at the risk of forgetting someone because I haven’t had enough coffee today, I’m going to say that you KNOW who you are and I LOVE you beyond words.

  To my Sharpies—Thank you for being my safe space. Thank you for supporting me and sharing your enthusiasm to read whatever it is I decide to write.

  And, as always, to my readers… I write what I like to read. It’s not always the same and it’s not always for everyone, but you’re always there, loving every word. Thank you from the bottom of my bursting heart.

  Standalones

  Reputation

  Redemption

  The Odyssey Duet

  The Fall of Troy

  The Judgment of Paris

  Winter Games Series

  Up in the Air

  On the Edge

  Enjoy the Ride

  In Too Deep

  Over the Top

  The Gentlemen’s Guild Series

  The Artist’s Touch

  The Sculptor’s Seduction

  The Painter’s Passion

  The Passion & Perseverance Trilogy (A Pride and Prejudice Retelling)

  First Impressions

  Second Chances

  Third Time is the Charm

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  Hey there!

  So, you want to know a little bit about me and my writing? Awesome! Even though I write *a lot*… writing about myself always proves to be difficult. I wonder if my ‘About Me’ could just consist of memes… that would be fantastic!

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