by Lily White
Clasping my hands behind my back, I stared down at her after she’d dropped her weight on the bench. “Who pays the bills at your house?”
“Ben. He dropped everything after my mom died and took care of me while I was still a minor. Even now, he works to pay the mortgage and utilities while also paying for the home care nurses for my dad.”
A pause, the weight of the world forced out with a heavily expelled breath. “We can’t afford to put him in a care facility. It’s just too much money. So we make due with what we can.”
Damn it. I wanted to hate her brother with everything I had inside me, but I had to respect him for taking care of his family. That respect, however, ended at the point where he convinced his sister to take part in criminal behavior.
Another puzzle piece snapped in place. “So, Ben is the one who gets upset when you stay out at night.”
Not a question, a guess, one that was apparently accurate, judging by the helpless look on her face.
“Ben has always chased off every guy that comes near me. He doesn’t want me to be used or have my heart broken. He thinks my musical talent is too precious a gift to be destroyed by boys.”
Damn it, he was right. Not until this moment had I ever wanted to pat a person on the back and shake their hand while at the same time have the intense desire to shove a knife into their chest.
Regardless of what he’d done to care for Amelia growing up, he still had to answer for what he did to Emaline.
“You need a phone.”
“What?” Teal eyes locked to mine, confusion swirling behind them.
“So you can contact me when you need help. I’ll buy it for you and pay for the plan.”
“Lennon-“
Stalking away from her, I barked out a command. “Grab your stuff. We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?”
“No complaints, Miss Dillon. No questions.”
Her sneakers scrunched over the linoleum floors behind me, a rustle of papers as she packed the music into her bag and raced after me, three quick steps to my one. “You never said no questions. It’s not one of the rules.”
“It is now,” I answered, leading her down the hall, out the door and to my SUV.
“But I thought students were supposed to ask questions of their teachers.”
That smart mouth was going to get her in real trouble one of these days. “Not in my classroom,” I growled, hitting the key fob to unlock the car and open her door for her to climb in.
Amelia hesitated at the door like a scared rabbit. I stood glowering at her with the unspoken threat that if she didn’t climb in the seat, I had no problem tying her cute little ass up and tossing her in.
Needless to say, the stare down didn’t last long. Amelia huffed out a breath and hopped up into the SUV, her hair concealing her face as she stared directly ahead and I slammed the door shut.
It was fine that she was mad. I liked her mad. Mad meant she wasn’t letting her brother talk her into helping him mug people, and she wasn’t sitting around crying about her dad. She could take out all the aggression she felt on the keys while I fucked her from behind for all I cared, just as long as I knew where the hell she was and what she was doing.
The days of being out of constant contact were over. It didn’t matter whether she liked it or not.
Peeling out of the parking lot, I made a hard right onto the street, silence lingering between us as I merged onto the highway heading downtown to the nearest cellular store. I was half tempted to hit a pet store next to see if they could install one of those nifty tracking devices just under the skin, one with an app I could use to keep an eye on her whereabouts at all times.
I glanced at her to see she was still refusing to look my direction.
Fuck it, I’d get her a collar too. One with a bell attachment that tinkled every time she moved.
“You never told me where we’re going.”
My lips kicked up into a smirk. “I don’t answer to anybody. Get used to it.”
That made her head snap my direction. In my peripheral vision, I could see pink dusting her cheeks, her eyes narrowing on me with enough vehemence the eye daggers were stabbing me in a million different places.
I’d seen this side of her before, the bratty little girl thrashing beneath me in the alley. I was happy to see she was still in there buried beneath all the sorrow and weight of her fucked up family life. What she didn’t know was I intended to keep that girl just beneath the surface. Always there staring out and remembering that she belonged to a man who wouldn’t allow her to shrink into her shell.
If I had to poke her in the forehead with my damn finger every time she forgot it, I would, not giving much of a damn if she called me every name in the book.
Amelia would be submissive to no other person but me.
Taking an exit into Downtown Tampa, I relaxed against my seat, my fingers tapping against the steering wheel as if it were a keyboard, music flowing out of me without an outlet. Still it was there in my head, the notes crisp and loud, a driving beat that promised pain and pleasure, sin and discipline.
“I’m adding new rules.”
It wasn’t necessary to see her eyes to know she’d rolled them. “You can’t add new rules to an already established agreement.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
Another huff, her hair blowing out at the sides of her face. “Fine. What are the new rules? I might accept them.”
There she was, the tough girl that wouldn’t put up with shit from anybody. I’d been looking for her since the day we first met, wondering just how far I had to push her for the brat to come to the surface. Brat and I would play together as soon as I had a chance to get her alone. My cock was looking forward to it.
“I haven’t thought of them yet, but you should damn well know I will.”
Swinging into a parking lot dotted with palm tree islands and lined with flashy store front windows, I parked in front of a cellular store with all the fancy gadgets I could want to track Amelia wherever the hell she went.
This wasn’t for my benefit, but for hers. At least that was what I kept telling myself.
“Lennon, you can’t buy me a phone.”
“I can buy you whatever the hell I want. That’s the fun part of being wealthy. If I want it, it’s mine.”
“You don’t need to rub it in.”
My hand gripped down on the door handle, irritation rubbing me in all the wrong places.
Taking a breath, I attempted to calm down the raging desire I had in me to change every aspect of her life, regardless of whether she was okay with it, just so I could put her in a safe little bubble where she could focus on her music like a songbird.
“You’re right. I’m just so fucking frustrated that I want to strangle you right now.”
“Because my dad is sick? That’s not my fault.” Her voice was sharp, each word increasing in volume as her anger swam closer to the surface.
“No,” I roared. “Because you didn’t tell me you were having so many problems. I could have helped you, Amelia, but instead of admitting to me you were living in such hellish conditions, you kept it from me. Breaking, I might add, my rule about no secrets.”
Arms crossing over her chest, she tipped up her chin, eyes seething with so much fury it was making me fucking hard as hell. My cock was practically dancing in my lap like an overeager pup wanting to play with the new, shiny squeaky toy sitting next to me.
Fuck, it irritated me how, no matter what Amelia was doing, she turned me on.
Amelia needed to be put on restriction for her own damn good. And although it would go against the independence I knew she was clamoring to hang onto, I had every intention to snatch it away, dangle it in front of her and tell her she could have it back with good behavior.
No. It wasn’t her fault her dad was sick and she was hurt by taking care of him. But it was her fault for not telling me the truth of her situation. Not when I would have done in everything i
n my power to help her.
And sure, we’d only known each other for two weeks, but she’d still had the opportunity to fess up that night at my house. Amelia had admitted her protective family needed her home. What she hadn’t said was that all her family problems were practically suffocating her. Endangering her. Threatening her future by weighing her down in crime, illness and poverty.
I couldn’t solve all of Amelia’s problems, but I could make them easier to bear so she didn’t show up in my classroom with bruises on her face, or end up in back alleys with grown ass, horny men groping her like she was available for an easy fuck.
She wasn’t.
Not Amelia.
Not when I wanted all those easy fucks to be reserved for only me.
And damn if that thought didn’t freeze me in place and piss me off even more.
Amelia
There are so many horrible conditions and emotions the human body can endure.
Pain. Anger. Sorrow. Loss. Depression. Grief. Betrayal. Humiliation. Embarrassment. Regret.
The list is endless, really. Eternal. Grab a thesaurus and you can discover all the synonyms that will walk you up and down the scale of misery that is part of our everyday existence.
Nobody is safe from them. Nobody is born into a life devoid of suffering. And while some of us blindly stumble into pitfalls that leave us buried beneath those stomach churning, heartbreaking and soul crushing situations, other people, like me, step into it willingly and deliberately, all while knowing they would suffer what I considered one of the worst emotions of all: Guilt.
Those other emotions had nothing on what I was feeling now, because with them, I could pretend it wasn’t my fault.
But guilt is heavy bastard that sits on your shoulders reminding you every day that the consequences you are suffering are all your fault.
It sat on my shoulders now, whispering that I’d lied to a good and caring person.
Lennon could tell me all day long that what was happening between us was just sex and nothing more, but his behavior spoke differently. Actions speak louder than words my father had always said after lecturing me about judging a person by their hands. I’d never given it much thought, not until I’d met Lennon.
He was generous with me despite his reservations. Always watching out for me even when the last thing I wanted were his opinions or involvement in my less than stellar situations.
Yet, regardless that he was in a league so far outside of mine, he kept an eye on me, reaching out with his annoying advice and bullheaded intimidations.
I was drowning beneath the churning ocean of my lies, the guilt eating at me while Lennon dragged me from his SUV into a large store displaying a myriad of ridiculously overpriced gadgets and toys. And the entire time he walked me around looking at the flashy phones and shiny tablets, I was breaking one of his most important rules by lying to him.
My father hadn’t struck out and bruised my face. It had been Ben’s fist that left this mark, although the punch hadn’t been intentional.
After Ben had come to my school, we’d gone home and waited until later that night to get dressed and go out. As usual, Jackson was in tow as we drove to another upscale bar to run the same scheme as usual. But after luring the man out, his grimy fingers gripping my arm with punishing strength, I’d cried. Not because of what the man was doing, but because I was betraying Lennon.
It must have been my tears that set Ben off. He came out of the shadows like a charging bull, and I hadn’t moved fast enough to avoid get caught up in the first few punches thrown.
As soon as I fell, Ben turned his attention to me, his concern distracting him enough that the man eventually got away when Jackson couldn’t stop him on his own. We left there with nothing to show for it but my black eye.
Not only was my family now about to lose our home, but I was lying to the one person who only had my best interests in mind. All while he was dropping enough money to pay our mortgage for three months on a phone I didn’t want or deserve.
Purchase made, Lennon led me from the store back to his SUV, packed me in and dropped the phone in my lap as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned the opposite direction from the highway that would take us back to school.
“Where are we going now?”
“Another store,” he answered, his tone curt and unyielding.
“Why?”
“What do you plan to wear to my performance Saturday night?”
Blue eyes darting to my lap before returning to the road, he added, “Not that I mind the plaid skirt schoolgirl look, but it’s not exactly appropriate for a night at the symphony.”
“Lennon,” I shook my head, my mind caught between maintaining the lie so I wouldn’t lose a man who was expertly weaving a sticky web around my heart, and fessing up to relieve myself of the guilt that was gnawing at my bones.
Either option resulted in Lennon calling off what we had, a consequence that would tear me apart and scatter the bits and pieces on the wind.
“I can’t go, so there is no point in buying anything to wear.”
His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Why can’t you go?”
“I have a shitty, unreliable car, for one.” Thinking better on that statement, I quickly tossed out, “and don’t you dare swing by a dealership to buy me a new one. I won’t accept it.”
The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin. “Even if it’s red and has all the fancy features and toys?”
A roll of my eyes. “I hate red cars.”
“Black it is.”
“Lennon. No. This is too much. I don’t deserve this phone. I don’t deserve a dress for the symphony, and I sure as hell don’t deserve a new car.”
We swerved right into another parking lot, the cement and steel facade of Neiman Marcus rising up in the distance. “I can’t afford this place.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing I’m paying. Otherwise, we’d be heading to Hot Topic or Target.”
My lips quirked at the thought. Still, I shook my head, refusing his offer. “I have no way of getting to the symphony on Saturday and you can’t take me, seeing as how we’d be spotted together.”
Lennon opened his door, glancing back at me before stepping out. “You can ride with Dizzy and Renee. I already bought you a ticket for a seat next to theirs. Problem solved.”
He slammed the door shut while I was in the middle of asking, “Who are Dizzy and Renee?”
The door opened on my side and Lennon took my hand to pull me from my seat before I could refuse to follow him. Practically marching me toward the store, he was blatantly ignoring the flurry of questions rolling off my tongue.
“Who are Dizzy and Renee? Why are we doing this? What if someone sees us? Is this about the bruise?”
I finally locked my feet to the ground just outside the glass doors of the store. “Lennon, this won’t fix anything for me. Why are you wasting your money?”
Stormy blue eyes met mine. “Because I want to waste my money. I know this won’t fix your life, but until you reveal all your secrets to me so I can take care of those problems for you as well, I’ll handle the problems I already know about. Namely, your lack of a way to contact me when you need help, and your inability to buy a dress for the performance. You’ll need it regardless, or did you not read in the Hastings program materials that the final competition requires formal attire?”
Like a fish out of water, my mouth opened and closed, a response locked in the deep recesses of my throat because I hadn’t actually read the program materials. Julia told me where to be and when, and there I was fresh faced and horrified to learn the man I’d attempted to mug was also my insanely hot, arrogant as all hell, and ridiculously talented teacher.
Now I was fucking said teacher, and lying to him, unable to accept the gifts he was hell-bent on giving me.
“You didn’t read them.” Lennon flashed me his signature cocky smirk. “I should have known that.”
One tug of my arm and he unglued
my feet from the cement to drag me inside. A cool wave of air conditioning was a wall against my body, freezing me instantly to the bone where all my horrible little lies were hiding.
I had to tell him.
I didn’t want to tell him.
The confession rolled off my tongue regardless.
“I didn’t get this bruise from my dad.”
Like a screeching record, everything stopped, even the constant tick of the metronome pausing in response to Lennon’s cold fury. I watched as his head canted to the side, his eyes still straight ahead instead of turning to me, as if he was taking a moment to absorb the truth I’d told him.
Breath leaked from my lungs like a deflating balloon, my fingers tugging away from his so I could wrap my arms over my body to cover up the shame of being a con artist forced into schemes to hurt people and a liar who didn’t deserve the person standing in front of me.
The truth was out, however, so I was sure we would be spinning on our heels to leave any minute now.
“Your father doesn’t have Alzheimer’s?”
Lennon’s voice was so remote and controlled that it scared me. Yelling, I could handle, but not a deep tenor vibrating with the type of rage I knew could bring this building down around us. “He has Alzheimer’s. I didn’t lie about that.”
His jaw ticked, every sculpted muscle in his beautiful body tense beneath the navy blue Henley he wore. “Who gave you the bruise?”
Around us, the world continued along happily unaware of the bomb about to go off. Women milled about, their fingers testing the material of beautiful clothes displayed on mannequins and hanging from gleaming metallic racks. Airy classical music floated from speakers above our heads as the blended, light scent of perfumes wafted beneath my nose, most likely drifting from the pretty customers and neatly arranged makeup counters.
There I stood with an information grenade held firmly in my hand, the pin pulled in wait for me to release the trigger.
“Ben did it by accident when he was fighting a guy off me in an alley.”
Another tick of his strong jaw. “You ran the scheme again.”
There wasn’t exactly a question mark attached to that response, but I answered like there had been. “Yes.”