Rough

by Sybil Bartel

  She barely waited until the last word was out of my mouth. “Did you ever have feelings for any of your clients?”

  “Is that your first question?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “No, you’re not answering or no you didn’t have feelings for anyone?”

  “You said clients, not anyone, and the answer is no.”

  Her face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. “Really? Not at all?”

  I dropped my hold on her and my hands went to my hips. “It wasn’t about the clients, Red.” I couldn’t touch her and talk about other women. It felt fucking wrong.

  She looked even more confused.

  Fuck me. “It was never about them. It was always about me. Yeah, they fucking smelled nice or looked good or even felt good for five fucking seconds as I got off, but it wasn’t about them. It was about me having control. I wasn’t looking for a fucking girlfriend. My aim wasn’t some bullshit domestic fantasy. I played rough, I fucked harder, and I breathed in the control. I used it to escape.” I saw every fucking judgment in her shocked expression, but I went on because she asked. She’d fucking asked.

  “War is a trigger. Violence gets under your skin and you can’t un-live it. You don’t want to. The Marines trained me for combat, but I own it. I own every skill I honed to kill and I live it. I’m not fucking perfect, but I don’t regret who I am and I don’t regret fucking women for three years for money. It served its purpose.” I stared her down. “What’s your second question?” I demanded.

  She swallowed. “I—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t have one.”

  “Get dressed.” I strode out of the bathroom, not sure who I was more fucking pissed at, myself for talking to her in that tone or her for not recognizing what we had between us as fucking special.

  I didn’t have a damn second to think about it because she followed me.

  “You’re angry I asked the question.”

  “Goddamn it, Red. I’m not angry about the fucking question.”

  “Then what are you angry about?” She held the towel around herself like a shield.

  I felt fucking guilty because even though she was smart as hell, she didn’t have the experience with sex that I did. But I also knew myself. If I backed off or lied to her now, it would be pointless to stay another goddamn second in her place. “I was pissed that you didn’t recognize that shit between us is different.”

  I saw the change in her expression before she opened her mouth and her pink suit voice bled out. “I grew up with a hardworking minister father who left my day-to-day care to a whole mess of church ladies because he had a parish to run. When those ladies weren’t putting the fear of God in me, they were busy telling me how the devil was in all the young men in the parish. They said they were just waiting to get the milk for free. So I stayed away. Turned out, they should’ve just warned me to stay away from male escorts.” She turned tail and slammed the bathroom door.

  Inappropriate as hell, I fucking smiled and grabbed my jeans as my phone buzzed. I answered without bothering to look who it was. “Yeah.”

  “The lawyer is here,” Tyler said.

  “Send him in.” I hung up and threw on my clothes. I was walking into the living room when I heard the knock on the front door. Turning the deadbolt that wouldn’t do shit to stop an intruder, I opened the door.

  “Mr. Brandt.” Clark Kent aka Mathew Barrett nodded at me with a grave expression that I was beginning to despise.

  I didn’t say shit. I glanced at Tyler and all the fucking leech news crews yelling for my attention, then I closed the door.

  Barrett exhaled and pulled his messenger bag off his shoulder. “That’s a lot of press.”

  I cut right to the chase. “Did you do what I asked?”

  The lawyer leveled me with a look. “Yes, and unfortunately, your day just went from bad to worse.”

  “Sienna’s getting dressed. You have thirty seconds.”

  He dropped his bag on the coffee table but neither of us sat. “Ahlstrom’s filed assault and battery charges in addition to the lawsuit. I’ve drawn up a testimony based on the video I saw and a friend of mine who is on the police force will be here soon for you to file your own charges. Assault and battery for the restaurant and assault charges for when he showed up at your house. Additionally, you’re going to file an order of protection.”

  Motherfucker. “I told you I’m not filing a fucking restraining order.” I didn’t care what charges that asshole filed. The videos everybody and their mother took showed it was self-defense.

  “You’re out of options. If you want me to represent you, then this is how we’re doing it.”

  Goddamn it, I wasn’t going to be strong-armed by a Marvel Comics-looking motherfucker. “I’ll think about it.”

  “If you want to retain your personal wealth and freedom, then I suggest you do more than think about it. I get paid either way.”

  Fucker had some balls. “I’m not getting arrested.”

  He shrugged. “That’s up to the prosecutor’s office now. But the quicker we file our own charges, the better it is for you.” He reached for his bag. “However, I have a feeling this news is going to pale in comparison to what else I found out.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. “What?”

  “Jed Burrows’s will is being read tomorrow, and not only are Mr. DeMarco and Miss Montclair requested to be at the reading, but so is Mr. Ahlstrom.”

  “Jesus fuck.”

  His head down, his hands on his hips, Jared swore.

  A tall man with jet-black hair and black-framed glasses stood next to Jared. “I don’t know the particulars, but he must be named if his presence is being requested.” In a pressed dress shirt and what had to be custom-made trousers to fit his height, the man bore a striking resemblance to Superman.

  I stepped out from the hall and both men immediately looked up.

  “Hello.” The handsome man with the glasses stepped forward. “You must be Miss Montclair.” He extended his hand. “I’m Mathew Barrett. I’m Mr. Brandt’s attorney.”

  His voice was deep, but he looked too young to be an attorney. “Mr. Barrett.” I shook his hand as Jared took in the exchange with narrowed eyes.

  “Come, have a seat. I believe we have some things to discuss.”

  Jared stepped between us. “Give us a minute.” He ushered me into the kitchen and dropped his voice. “I hate milk, Red.”

  “Meaning?” He was using my nickname, staring at me like he wanted to devour me, and I knew what he meant. He was referencing the analogy I’d told him the ladies in the church had warned me about. He was saying he wasn’t going to use me. But I wasn’t letting him get off that easy. He needed to say the words because I needed to hear them.

  “I’m not going to take advantage of you.” Strong, decisive, his words were as potent as his tone.

  “Taking advantage isn’t limited to only the physical.”

  “You’re right. Physically I’m going to take full advantage of you and your gorgeous body, every damn chance I get. But I’ll never intentionally belittle you for your lack of experience. I fucking love that innocence. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings with what I said earlier.”

  Hearing him say love, my heart melted and my stomach fluttered. I wanted to rush at him so bad, it hurt not to touch him. “Okay,” I breathed.

  He stepped closer. “What you’re feeling right now?” His fingers dragged through my hair then gently held the strands at the end for a pause. “What we’ve got going on?” His hand traveled down my arm to my hand and he laced his fingers through mine. “It’s fucking special.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “Then trust it.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t care if the attorney was watching, I willed him to kiss me.

  A storm surged in his golden-brown eyes, making every streak of brown go dark gray. “I’m not giving Clark Kent a fucking show. I’m gonna wait
till he’s gone, then I’m going to touch you.” He squeezed my hand. “Understand?”

  Heat flooded between my legs and the air left my lungs. “Mm-hm.” I pulled my lips into my mouth.

  “Do you know how good I’m going to make you feel?” His thumb stroked slowly across my knuckles, feeling every ridge and valley as if it were my most erogenous zone.

  Nervous, not sure how to say it, I hinted at what I wanted. “I want to make you feel good.”

  His heated gaze went to my lips and his voice dropped. “You ever sucked a man off, beautiful?”

  “No,” I shyly admitted.

  His eyes closed for a brief moment, and when they opened again, they were almost black with desire. “You’re so fucking perfect, Sienna Montclair.”

  Warmth swirled in my stomach and spread to my veins. My cheeks heated, and I dropped my head.

  His finger tipped my chin. “No,” he said in a fierce whisper. “Never shy away from me.”

  His utter dominance, his natural scent, musk and man and all-consuming, fell around me like a barrier to the outside world. “Okay.”

  He studied me a moment. “I need to tell you something. I don’t want you to hear it from the lawyer.”

  The intensity of the moment bent to make room for doubt. “Was this all a distraction leading to this moment?”

  “I asked you for trust,” he reminded me.

  I dipped my chin. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you did.” But I no longer felt sexy and wanted by man so far out of my league sexually. I felt like I was drifting.

  He searched my face. “What just happened?”

  I hesitated. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  I gave him the truth. “I’m not trusting. Not by nature or by circumstances. Just as you’re asking me to trust you, I’m going to ask you to be patient with me.”

  “Fair enough. Tell me what made you frown like that.”

  “I felt… alone.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “And?”

  “And like you were only being nice to me to butter me up so you could tell me something bad.”

  “No, I needed to clear the air between us from before you went to change.”

  “Okay.” I was beginning to understand that he didn’t like to leave things hanging between us.

  “But I do naturally like to dominate you, Red. That’s never going to change.”

  “I like that part,” I admitted, heat flaming my cheeks.

  The hint of a smile touched his face. “I know.”

  The one tip of the corner of his mouth was all it took. I didn’t feel alone anymore. I smiled. “I pretty much forget whatever we were talking about when you smile at me.”

  “Did I smile?” He smiled.

  I swooned. “Okay, I’m good. Tell me what you need to tell me.”

  His face instantly sobered. “Ahlstrom’s going to be at the will reading.”

  It was as if someone turned out the lights. I completely shut down emotionally. My mind conjured up crazy reasons why he would be in Jed Burrows’s will, then, just as quickly, I dismissed them as Dan’s confession this morning settled into place and tainted everything I never knew I had in a grandfather.

  “Red?”

  “I’m good.” I pulled my hand away. “I should go talk to your attorney.”

  He pulled me back with a hand around my nape. “Remember what I said.”

  He’d said a lot of things, things about touching me, not taking advantage, he was giving up his clients, he couldn’t read, he wanted me to trust him. Forcing air into my lungs, I looked up at him. “Nothing’s changed since before I knew who Jed Burrows was.” I didn’t know if I was telling him or myself.

  His knees bent, he dipped his head and got closer to my eye level. His huge hand caressed the back of my neck. “We got this.”

  But there wasn’t a we for this. There was me and this was my screwed-up family and I wished none of it was happening. The headache started right between my eyes. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.” The attorney was probably billing Jared for every minute we wasted talking to each other.

  With only a nod, Jared led me back into the living room.

  Barrett gestured at my couch as if he were in charge. “Miss Montclair, I don’t know if you’ve had an opportunity to check your messages today, but the law firm representing your grandfather is requesting your presence tomorrow in their offices to read the will.”

  I’d kept my phone intentionally off since yesterday. “I didn’t know he was my grandfather until this morning. Do I need some sort of DNA test to confirm this?”

  Superman glanced at Jared as he sat down next to me. “It’s certainly your right to request it, but I am going to assume a man as wealthy as Jed Burrows would not request your presence at the reading of his will if he were not absolutely certain of who you were to him.”

  “How did he die?” I’d forgotten to ask my uncle.

  “Congestive heart failure. His attorneys can tell you more tomorrow.” He sat in a chair opposite the couch and rested his elbows on his knees. “If you would like my presence with you tomorrow, I can accompany you to the reading.”

  I glanced at Jared. He nodded. “Thank you. I would appreciate it.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how I will be able to alter any terms of the will, but I am glad you’re choosing to have representation.”

  “I don’t need to alter any terms. I’m not expecting anything from him, nor am I sure I want it.” I didn’t know the first thing about owning a professional football team, and if the reporters camped outside my house were any indication, then I certainly didn’t want this life. “In the highly unlikely event that I inherit any part of the team, I will need to figure out how to sell it.” I’d already made my mind up.

  Superman looked at Jared again, and it was starting to make me angry.

  “I assure you I can make my own decisions, Mr. Barrett. You don’t need to look to Mr. Brandt for conformation or acknowledgement of any decision pertaining to my affairs. If I wish to confer with him, I will.”

  “Right, of course, my apologies.”

  Jared’s arm snaked behind my back and his hand landed on my hip. “I think what he’s getting at, Red, is that a professional football team is a lucrative business to own. Maybe you might want to wait till tomorrow to make any decisions.”

  Trying not to be pissed at the messenger, I attempted and failed to rein in my tenuous hold on my temper. “How much money?”

  Jared looked at Superman. “You got a figure?”

  Superman looked at me. “The team’s revenue last year was 391 million. They’ve exceeded that so far this year.”

  My heart stopped and a ringing buzzed in my ears.

  “Red?”

  Oh my God.

  Jared’s hand moved to my nape. “Breathe, beautiful. Deep breath.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “That’s it, baby. Another.”

  My body listened to him. I pulled air into my lungs. 391 million. In dollars. 391 million dollars.

  Superman rattled on as if I weren’t losing it. “If you were to sell, I am not sure what the sale price would be, but the team was valued last year at two-point-five billion. Of course, Mr. Burrows upon his death only owned fifty-two percent of the team, so roughly half that.”

  I barely heard what he was saying. My head spinning, my breath short, thoughts scrambled. How could my mother and father never tell me about this? How could they keep such a secret? Why would they keep such a secret? What was half of two-point-five billion?

  Jared snapped at Superman. “She fucking gets it, Barrett.” He gripped my nape, hard. “Sienna, look at me. Fucking look at me.” He enunciated each word.

  Golden-brown eyes swam into focus and thoughts started bleeding out of me. “I don’t want that kind of money. I don’t even need it. But I could pay off my mortgage and not ever worry about a utility bill, but then I wouldn’t even be able to live in my
house because there’s no gate. This isn’t a gated community, and that’s part of the reason I love my house. I never wanted to live in a cage, but this would be worse than a cage. It’d be a fishbowl, and I would need security. You would need security. My children, if I had any, would need security. I would need a Tyler around the clock.”

  “You have me,” he calmly stated.

  I didn’t even hear him. “Everywhere I went, it would be like this. I would have to move. Maybe out of state, but I love Florida. Florida is my home, and one day I wanted to raise children here. I wanted them to grow up by the beach and breathe the spring air when the orange blossoms are in bloom and swim with dolphins and see the beautiful colors of the sunsets. But I can’t do that if someone is always going to want something from me because I have money. How is that going to work? I’m not a princess, this isn’t a fairy tale. There’s not going to be a happy ending to this story.”

  Jared stood and scooped me up. “Get her purse and her keys,” he ordered Superman. “Lock the door and follow us close to my Mustang.”

  “Jared?” Alarmed, I squirmed. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

  He held me tighter to his chest and strode toward my front door. “Not a fucking chance.”

  “I don’t want to go out there,” I shrieked.

  “You promised me trust.” He reached the door. “Head down, arms around my neck. Hide your face.”

  He opened the door, and I didn’t get a second to react. Lights flashed, people yelled, so much yelling, my name, his name, even the lawyer’s name. And questions, so many questions. My heart hammering, my lungs burning, my limbs shaking, I gripped Jared’s neck hard and held on as he issued commands.

  “Tyler, call Luna for extra security detail as you follow us to the condo. Keep formation, no separation. Tell Luna I want twenty-four seven, double guard. Barrett, open the passenger door. Meet us at the condo tomorrow morning at nine.” Jared gently put me in the passenger seat of the Mustang.

  Barrett handed me my purse and keys. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Miss Montclair. I’ll have paperwork for you to sign, retaining me on your behalf.”