From Sir, With Love

by Rachell Nichole

  Was there nothing he hadn’t told Leo about her? When had they even talked? This didn’t make a lot of sense. Did he know about the anorexia? The thought she’d had that Benson had sent Leo to care for her was starting to sound more like the truth, even though it was ridiculous. Had he sent not only his younger brother, but his younger Dominant brother to take his place? The fucking bastard.

  “Wait up, minx.”

  She took a deep breath to keep from snapping at him. Though why she bothered, she wasn’t quite sure. She turned and forced her face into a blank mask. “Yes?” she asked in the most innocent voice she could muster.

  “I shouldn’t have yelled,” he said. He looked genuinely guilty. Like he was afraid he’d scared her.

  Maybe she should let him think he had. Guilt might stop him from doing it again. Maybe. But it had not been fear skating down her spine at hearing him scream for her like that. It had decidedly been something else. And now there was enough guilt to go around.

  Christ, Benson wasn’t even buried yet, and here she was allowing her head to go fuzzy at Leo’s commanding voice. She couldn’t help the way her body reacted though. She knew so much of it was trying to find something, anything, in this world that she could hold onto while she felt like any second a soft breeze would blow her into a zillion pieces and scatter them into the stratosphere.

  “Are you done with your hissy fit now?” she challenged. Despite her insistence that she wasn’t going to get into a spat with him, her tongue clearly had different ideas. What was it about him that made her react like this?

  He took a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped when he was done exhaling. “At least I know your definition of redecorating now.” He gave a little chuckle. “Remind me never to ask you to redo my place, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. She should call him out. Ask him outright if Benson asked him to come be her Sir. As if that was even possible. Sir, if you were here right now, I’d smack the shit out of you. She’d never once felt inclined to raise a hand to Benson. How could he think she would just accept this? How could he think that she would need Leo? Had Benson really thought she was that weak? Did Leo?

  She would show the both of them. Starting right the fuck now.

  “Har, har. I’m going back home, now, and frankly, I don’t know that you’re welcome to stay there. If you’re going to go all grumpy old man on me. I mean seriously, it’s like I ripped apart your favorite teddy bear.”

  “It was Benson’s room, that’s all. I guess, seeing it like that... was hard for me.” He nibbled his bottom lip in a decidedly non-Dom fashion, and his eyes were sad. They hadn’t been close, but they were still brothers. For the first time since Leo barged into the house, she could see the grief plainly on his face. And she softened, just a little. Just enough not to kick him out.

  Besides, even if she didn’t need him there, it might be nice not to be alone tonight in that big empty house. She might actually sleep for once.

  “Let’s go.” She walked past him, not exactly inviting him to follow, but not indicating he shouldn’t either.

  When they were back in the house, she made herself a cup of herbal tea while he went upstairs, and he refrained from commenting on her redecorating skills any further. Smart man. They just had to get through the next couple days together. The funeral would be tomorrow, and then she would convince him she didn’t need him. Until then, she would just keep her sudden urge to do the opposite of everything he said, and her anxiety over eating, to herself. Once Leo Hastings was out of this house, and out of her life, she could figure out how the hell she was going to survive in a world without her Sir.

  ***

  It’s been three days. What the fuck is he still doing here? Evangeline fought hard not to scream at him as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs and heard Leo in the kitchen. The funeral was done. Benson was buried. She was meeting with the attorney this afternoon to go over the will and figure out where she would go from here. The last thing she needed was Leonardo Hastings keeping up his shadow routine. It was like every damned time she turned around, there he was. She had barely been keeping herself in check. It had been hard. Like those first few months living with Benson and letting him guide her through her training.

  Until him, she had been convinced that no matter what she did, her disease would win. Submitting to Master Hastings, allowing him to control aspects of her life, including her food intake for that first year, had given her the security, the safety, to figure out what years of therapy had failed to help her discern. She was fine the way she was. She didn’t need to diet or over-exercise. She didn’t need to be a size 0. She was worthy. She could be loved. She was precious.

  She had believed these things, because Benson had decreed them true. He had been her savior in a world that had turned her upside down and inside out. He had righted it all for her, and over time, he had no longer needed to control so much of her life. He hadn’t wanted to, he’d said. He’d only done it because she had needed it, and he had loved her. So, he’d given her what she needed. It seemed he thought he was doing the same here, sending Leo to try to care for her. Stupid man. Just because they were brothers did not mean they were interchangeable.

  Since his outburst, Leo had been deceptively sweet. Just there wherever she was, helping with things. He even provided a buffer between her and his sister Charlotte at the funeral. While Evangeline had been with Benson for twelve years, they had never been married, and Charlotte had insisted on organizing the funeral arrangements. Since Evangeline felt like she could barely function, and Benson had never cared much for the whole funeral process, she’d just let Charlotte do it.

  Stop stalling. She was still standing on the bottom step. With a sigh, she forced herself to descend the last stair and head down the hallway toward the kitchen, and through the old-fashioned swinging door, to where Leo was making her breakfast. Again. The man had an obsession with cooking.

  “Good morning,” he said, overly brightly.

  She didn’t respond, just poured herself a cup of coffee. She needed to go back to work in another day or two. The clinic would run fine without her for a few days, she knew, but she still needed to get back. And she needed her head screwed on straight before that happened. She was fighting past her issues. Working through them, like she was supposed to. Not every day was perfect. She still found it just too easy to forget to eat. Leo, damn him, was constantly fucking eating. Which meant she was constantly reminded she should be doing the same. Perhaps that was helpful, after all.

  She rolled her eyes but kept her back to him so he wouldn’t see it. She didn’t need to see that shadow of a Dom stare creep back into his gaze. The one that made her weak in the knees. And then made her feel like shit for her reaction.

  She knew that she was just floundering because of the grief. That she was allowing herself to feel like she needed someone to be her anchor, because that’s what Benson had been for her all these years. But she wasn’t twenty any longer. He had made her stronger. And she wasn’t going to just fall into submission in order to cope. Not any more.

  Which meant Leo had to go.

  “When’s your flight home?” she asked, trying like hell to be nonchalant. She felt bad for pushing him out the door, she really did, but she needed her space to figure out her next move.

  “I’m not going home.”

  “Excuse me?” All hopes of being nice flew out the window. “What do you mean, you’re not going home?”

  “I mean that I feel like I should stay. Help you out around here. There’s still so much to be done. And frankly, I don’t want you and Charlotte to have to do it all.” What he meant was that he was afraid to leave the two of them alone without him to supervise.

  He wasn’t necessarily wrong. She and Charlotte had never gotten along. Without Benson to peace-keep between them, it was likely they would fight getting the estate through probate. Which was reason number one why Evangeline was meeting with the attorney this afternoon. They had to go thr
ough the will and ensure who’d been named executor.

  For someone so intent on keeping her life in check, Benson had been a little scatterbrained about his own sometimes, so she didn’t know what to expect.

  “I don’t need you to stay. I’ll be fine. I’m meeting with the estate attorney this afternoon, that’s what he’s there for. He’ll walk me through the probate process.” Provided she was the executor. She really hoped she was. She didn’t want to have to fight Leo or Charlotte for the estate. That was stupid. She wasn’t going to just walk away from her life with Benson, either. Is that what he was here for? The estate?

  She shook her head. She didn’t think that’s the kind of man Leo was, but honestly, how well did she know him? Maybe she’d read this all wrong. Maybe he was here for the house. Or an inheritance? The past few years, she and Benson had been doing well. Very, very well. It had taken some time, but they’d built up quite the fund. And with the house paid off, there was serious equity in the property. She could sell it and not have to work for the rest of her life, most likely. Even though the housing market wasn’t huge in Spartan, the Manor, restored as it was, would sell well.

  “Are you shaking your head at me because you don’t want me here?”

  “Yes,” she lied. Well it wasn’t a lie that she didn’t want him here. That just wasn’t exactly why she’d been shaking her head. And why the actual fuck did she feel her cheeks burning? She had no issue lying when necessary. She certainly didn’t owe this man the truth. She didn’t owe him anything in fact. So, why did she keep feeling like she did?

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” His jaw, which was now covered in multiple days of growth, set in a stubborn line. So, he wanted a battle of wills, did he? He obviously had no clue who he was dealing with.

  “This house is mine.” She hoped. She wasn’t technically on the deed.

  “It isn’t, actually. At least not entirely.” His voice had a small edge to it she couldn’t identify. Was it pain? Guilt?

  Both lanced through her. “What are you talking about?” Did he have a copy of the will he hadn’t shared with the rest of them? What game was he playing?

  “The house is half in my name.”

  It was like a bomb had gone off in her chest. Not only was her home not likely even hers, but she literally couldn’t kick Leo out. It was his fucking house.

  “So, you lied when you said you wanted to stick around and help. You’re just here because this is your home?” she demanded, her voice rising with each word. She slammed her cup of half full coffee down on the countertop.

  Her anger was boiling over, and if she didn’t put it down, she might throw it at his head. She’d been wrong. Benson hadn’t sent him here to take care of her. Leo had come because this was his place. And she would be out on her ass if she pushed him too hard. But she couldn’t help it. “You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that? Benson’s not in his grave even a week, and you’re just going to swoop in and claim what’s rightfully yours?”

  A pained look crossed his face. Good, she wasn’t going to just let this happen to her. He should feel like shit about this.

  “Yes, if you want the truth, I’m here for what’s mine. To fulfill my responsibility to my brother. But that doesn’t mean, I’m not also here for you. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?”

  “Because I like driving the Hastings men mad, of course.” Except she didn’t. She’d never felt this burning inside her to push back at Benson at every turn.

  “Obviously.”

  “What did you mean fulfill your responsibility? What does Benson expect you to do for the house?”

  He shook his head.

  “Oh, so now you’re going to go back to not telling me anything? You like keeping me in the dark, huh? And I’m supposed to what, just sit here and wait until you deign to give me the information? Like I’m what, some simpering idiot who has to wait for you to enlighten me!” She was shouting at him now. Pressing toward him, refusing to back down. She might get kicked out on her ass, but oh, well. She wanted the truth from him. Now. All of it.

  “I’m not talking to you when you’re like this,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, grow the fuck up, Leonardo, and tell me the truth. You’ve been pussyfooting around here for three days, watching me, but barely saying two words at a time to me, never telling me whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say. It’s been written all over your face. Out with it. Just fucking out with it, already.”

  “Benson sent me to take care of you, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m only here because he asked me to be. Because I owe him everything, and I couldn’t turn my back on his dying wish that I come take care of you.” The shouted words reverberated around her like echoes in a cavern, buffeting her from all sides.

  She staggered back like he’d hit her. She’d known, she really had, but hearing it aloud, hearing him say just how much Benson hadn’t trusted her to take care of herself, ripped her open anew.

  She forced a mirthless laugh. “You? He sent you, the out of work, struggling actor, to take care of me? Dr. Turner?” She shook her head. “Are you sure it wasn’t you he sent to me to be taken care of, hmm?” He looked as shocked as she was at the words coming out of her mouth. But they were there now and she couldn’t take them back.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m going upstairs before I do something we’re both going to regret later.”

  Without another word, he turned and left. He didn’t even turn off the stove. She had half a mind to let the eggs burn, but at the top of the stairs, he yelled, “Eat before you go.”

  She flipped him off, even though she knew he couldn’t see it, and the door to his room closed with a click instead of a slam.

  A slam would have been better.

  And yet, she ate her fucking eggs like a good girl.

  Chapter Four

  The next four weeks passed in a chilly blur. Leo kept waiting for Evangeline to explode at him. She had every right to, really. But she was freezing him out. She barely spoke to him, even though they were living in the same house. He had been an ass to even consider Benson’s request, let alone try to honor it. But he was here now, and they’d confirmed that yes, the house was still half his, half Evangeline’s. Which made Charlotte very angry. But he was less concerned about his big sister than his newfound obsession.

  He’d been able to take a leave of absence from the theater, when he’d realized that he wasn’t in fact going back to New York. His understudy would take on the role of Boq for the rest of the year. After that, well, they’d just have to figure that out as it came. He’d even found someone to sub-let his apartment.

  Somehow in the past couple of weeks, honoring Benson’s wishes became less and less important as he watched Evangeline struggle with her grief and her anorexia. He kept cooking and making sure they ate together whenever she was home, but she was at work a lot, and he was worried about her all the time. The responsibility was eating him alive. Was she eating enough? Was she purging after she ate? Was she getting what she needed?

  The constant barrage of questions, the state of anxiety he was living in were wearing heavily on him. How had Benson done this for twelve years?

  Because he always was the better man.

  He shook his head, trying to dispel the voice there that kept insisting he’d never be able to help Evangeline. At every turn, he tried to help her, and she rebuffed him. She didn’t argue with him, she just didn’t accept the help. He wanted to push back, wanted to order her to let him help her. She at least didn’t fight about eating. Not ever. As if even in stubbornly icing him out, she knew that would be a step too far. Maybe he was helping after all. Even if just in that. But what they were doing wasn’t sustainable. It wasn’t healthy. Not for either of them.

  He’d read and re-read all the notes that Benson had left him. And every one of them told him to be patient. To hold firm when absolutely necessary, but not to be too strict with her. Strict was all Leo knew. He’d t
ried to balance his need for harsh control with the realities of being intimate with someone. And the two just didn’t mix for him. But that meant his driving need for control was relegated to a mere couple of hours with a play partner. Which was something he hadn’t had in weeks. It was wearing on him. And he knew if he didn’t release the pressure valve soon, he’d explode. He also knew that his anger would take down anyone within a two-mile radius.

  He wouldn’t let that happen. Not ever again. He needed a plan.

  He paced the kitchen, keeping an eye on dinner. He never had time or energy to cook like this in New York, not to mention the space. But now that his schedule was wide open, he’d been letting himself indulge in more and more involved meals. He was actually excited to share this one with Evangeline. Even if he knew she would eat in silence, give him a brief thanks, and retreat to her room for the rest of the night after eating. The same way she’d done for a month now.

  Her stubborn streak really had him ready to hit something. Preferably something soft, and fleshy that would moan when his hand landed. Like Evangeline. He shook his head at the surge in his blood the thought conjured. She was Benson’s. She would always be Benson’s. Even if Leo could play with her, that was all she’d ever be. A bottom to his Top. He couldn’t live the kind of lifestyle she and Benson had had. And he wasn’t going to try.

  He was tired of waiting. Tonight, he was going to tell her that Benson hadn’t just sent him to take care of her in the vanilla sense of the word. No doubt she’d take to that news even better. But his patience was disappearing. Quickly.

  He turned the risotto slowly, waiting for her to get home. She was very punctual, and he was timing dinner to be ready for just about the moment she walked in the door. He heard the jangle of keys in the front lock and turned the burner down to almost non-existent heat and turned the oven off.

  “Honey, I’m home,” she called sarcastically from the foyer. Every once in a while the brat showed through the Big Freeze she’d been subjecting him to. And he couldn’t quite hide his smile, but he made sure that it was gone when she walked in the room. He gave her a bored stare.