I sigh. “Chase, he beat me so often it became the norm. Broken bones, bruised ribs, black eyes. Those were regular occurrences in my world. The scar you’ve been tracing on my hip. That was from being thrown through a glass coffee table.” He recoils in disgust. “At the time, I believed I deserved every beating. He made sure I believed it.”
Chase’s hands ball into fists and he presses them into his eye sockets. This is upsetting him, but I have to finish. Rip the Band-Aid off fast. “For years it was really bad. But it was nothing compared to the last time.” I take a deep breath and he twines our fingers together. I close my eyes and continue.
“One night, he thought I was cheating on him. He always thought I was cheating on him…” I take a deep breath. “But this time was different. I…” Tears stream down my cheeks. Chase cups my cheeks and swipes away my tears with his thumbs. I feel his tenderness, his strength, his love.
“Baby, it’s okay. Tell me everything. I need to know,” he says softly.
I clutch his hands in my lap, holding them so tight my knuckles have turned white.
“I told him I was pregnant.”
Chase gasps. His eyes are the size of two full moons. “He didn’t believe it was his. We always used condoms, but there was this one time he was drunk and didn’t. It was after a particularly rough beating. I barely recalled him having sex with me; I was in so much pain. I let him do his business. At least when he was getting off, he wasn’t hitting me.”
Chase cringes. “Jesus Christ, Gillian…” He clings to my hips, his touch grounding.
I continue. If I don’t get this out now, I never will. “He said the baby wasn’t his. He called me a whore.” I shrug as the tears fall, wetting Chase’s forearms as he holds my hips. He brings his forehead to mine. It’s the strength I need. “He always called me a whore.” Chase physically shakes but doesn’t say anything. “He beat me within an inch of my life that night. He kicked my stomach over and over, strangled me and slammed my head repeatedly into the wood floor. I passed out. He probably thought I was dead, because he left me lying on the ground in a pool of my own blood. When I came to he was gone.”
“It took a while, but I crawled to a phone and dialed Safe Haven. I had programed it on the speed dial. It’s all I could think of in my haze. That one button was my entire focus. The cops had been called so many times over the years I honestly thought it was possible I’d die before they arrived.” Chase trails his hands up and down my biceps. “Safe Haven sent one of their trauma volunteers.”
Chase nods, knowing exactly what those volunteers did. He probably had a hand in making that part of the protocol.
“It was a husband and wife team. The man carried me to the car; I could barely walk after so many kicks to the ribs and stomach. The wife grabbed clothes to last me a couple weeks and all the cash I had stashed around the house when Justin wasn’t paying attention. Then they stayed at the hospital with me and held my hand while the doctors set my bones and stitched my wounds.” Without realizing it I had started rocking back and forth. Chase stops the movement, pulls me out of my protective ball and wraps my limbs around him, setting me in his lap like a Gillian blanket. He hugs me to him, surrounding me with his warmth.
I set my head on his shoulder and keep going. “Then I was told that I miscarried the baby.” The tears drip down his bare back. Eventually I wipe the tears with my arm. “After I was patched up, they took me to one of Safe Haven’s shelters. They took me in, gave me a room, and the counselors helped me get my mind straight. I grieved for my loss and they helped me realize what Justin did to me was wrong. They showed me I was worth more than that. That’s where I met Maria. She was a victim too.”
Chase’s eyes are closed when I pull my face away from the solace I seem to always find in the crook of his neck. He takes a deep breath. “Gillian, God…” He pulls me into a fierce embrace, holding me against his chest. “You will never be hurt again. I’m so sorry you had to endure all that pain.”
“I’m okay now. I don’t want your pity, but you need to know what and who I am. Trusting men with my heart has only hurt me. My only defense is to run.”
I see my words feathering over his features as he takes them in and dissects them. His eyebrows draw together and then that sexy grin I’ve come to adore slips across his mouth. “I’m an excellent runner myself. I’ll catch you and bring you home. To me. To this. To us.”
No man has ever made me feel so secure. Loved. I kiss him lightly. “Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.” He smiles wide.
“That’s why the Safe Haven means so much to me. It’s not just a job. They saved my life…in effect, your Foundation is the reason I’m still here. I owe them, and you, so much.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not sorry I intervened today. That woman was sabotaging you because of me. She didn’t deserve to keep her job. You, on the other hand, did-- as well as the promotion, Gillian. The money you’ve brought the Foundation over the past two years has been double what the whole Contributions Department has brought in the last five years.”
I let out a huff. “About that. I talked to the girls and came to a conclusion.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Regardless of what happened or how it is perceived, I’m just going to prove to myself, and everyone else, that I’m right for the position. Anyone who sees it otherwise is wrong.”
He grins, pulls me back into a hug and kisses me. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
So now that we’ve had a show and tell about my past and solved today’s debacle, I want to know more about him. His Father was the Devil, I hear Jack’s words in my head. “Tell me about your Father. You’ve never told me why you lived with your Uncle when you were a child?”
Chase leans back on the bed. “Gillian, you just revealed a lot. I don’t know that tonight is the night for me to share that sordid tale.”
“No hiding and no running, remember? It’s just me and you.”
“My story is similar to yours,” he begins, leaning back against the headboard. “My Mother was battered by my biological father. Except, she didn’t get away.” He looks off to the side, stuck in a distant memory.
“What happened?” I try not to push too hard.
“My Father had a bad habit of mixing copious amounts of alcohol with methamphetamines. They made him psychotic. He was already evil, but on drugs and alcohol he would hallucinate, talk to people who weren’t there.” His lips twist into a scowl. “And he had a burning desire to beat the shit out of anything that entered his path. Namely me, and my Mom.”
I pet his arm wanting to sooth him as he did me. Be there for him as he rehashes his own tortured past.
“I remember the night everything went to hell. It was my seventh birthday and he’d just lost his job. He came home and dragged me by the ear through the house. I screamed and Mom ran out of the kitchen. She was baking my birthday cake and had a butcher knife in her hand.” He takes a deep breath and his voice becomes deeper. His eyes fill with unshed tears.
“She begged him not to hurt me, told him it was my birthday. He backhanded me and pushed me at my Mother. She dropped the knife.” His voice shook, but he continued. “He came to Mom and punched her so hard she fell back. Blood sprayed from her broken nose all over me. I fell with her and my hand made contact with the handle of the knife.” I sat perfectly still, tears running in rivulets down my cheeks.
“I was so fucking stupid. I thought I could stop him from hurting her. I grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the thigh. It didn’t go deep, barely made a wound at all. But it enraged him. He threatened to kill me. He held the knife to my neck. Mom jumped between us and turned to push me down the hallway. I heard her blood curdling scream after I caught my balance. He had stabbed her in her lower back. She fell to the ground and he pulled the knife out. I can still remember the sound it made as it retreated from her body. The slurping noise haunts me.” He took a deep breath and his voice cracked. �
�He kept stabbing her, over and over like a sick horror movie. I kept thinking, ‘this isn’t real. This is pretend.’ But it was real.”
At that point Chase starts crying, clutching at me as the memory of that day rips through him. I pull him to me and rock him back and forth, kissing his temples, forehead, lips. “There was blood everywhere, Gillian, fucking everywhere. He kept stabbing my Mom while she screamed. I just stood there, helpless. She yelled for me to run and get help and I flew to my room, locked the door and went through the window. Just as I was out the window I could hear my Father. He had kicked in the door and was yelling at me through the window.”
“How did she survive?”
He sniffs and wipes his eyes with his hands. “The neighbors called the cops. He left my Mom there for dead but the paramedics got there and she made it. Survived against all odds. Thirty seven stab wounds, and she’s still here. It was a miracle. After the attack, she spent a year in a coma, and another year in therapy. In the end, she never walked again.”
“And your Father?” I asked while sweeping his chocolate hair off his brow and around his ears. Mostly just to touch him, which I knew he liked.
“He was picked up at a local bar. The bartender called the cops when he entered covered in blood. The bastard had the audacity to sit down and ask for a drink. Bartender kept him there until the police arrived. He’s in Joliet Correctional Center in Illinois for two counts of attempted murder.”
“Chase, I had no idea. That didn’t come up when I was Googling you.”
“It wouldn’t. My name has always been Davis, but I was born with the hyphenated Father and Mother’s names. James-Davis. My Uncle changed it back to just Davis and spent a lot of money ensuring that both names stayed out of the papers. Since I was a minor, the records were locked. It would be quite the scandal if it came out now.”
I loop a leg over his and mimic the position he had held me in during my story. He lays back and I follow him down, covering him like a blanket once more with my head on my spot, directly over his chest and his heart. He slides his hands enticingly over my bare back. Story time is over. It gutted us both, leaving us raw and emotional. Tonight we let the ugly out. Our pasts are behind us, our love between us. I kiss his chest over his heart. Mine.
“Thank you,” I whisper, lips against his chest.
He tunnels his hands into my hair and urges my face to his for a sweet, deep kiss. A kiss of rebirth, of the gift of knowledge that we both survived and came out on top, against all odds. Just like our relationship.
“For what?” he asks.
“For listening. For not judging me. For trusting me with your past and allowing me to be part of your future.” I search his gaze and his eyes shine in the dim light.
We lay holding one another until we both fall asleep, completely spent from baring our souls, content in the knowledge that tomorrow will be brighter because we’re together.
Chapter 16
The next few weeks provide a whirlwind of activity. Chase and I alternate between each other’s homes most nights. It constantly surprises me that a man so used to luxury willingly stays in my cramped apartment, sharing space with my wacky roommate. He even seems unbothered by the frequent bouts of marathon sex between Maria and Tom on some of our shared evenings. Maria and I did try to schedule our overnight stays at our boyfriend’s houses so that we would each have a bit of privacy but more than a couple times a week that didn’t work out. Most of the time it was because Chase’s schedule was sporadic. Everyone, including me seems to want a piece of him.
Since the night where we uncovered our demons we’ve been inseparable. At least as much as possible considering he often travels or has meetings well into the evenings. We haven’t said the “L” word to one another again after that deeply emotional night of baring our pasts. I think we were both afraid to break the spell. Somehow we accepted each other’s pasts as just that, our pasts. We chose not to let it taint the relationship we’ve built.
I am up to my eyeballs in alligators at work, dead set on proving that I deserve my new title and promotion. I have regular meetings with Mr. Hawthorne and Taye about upcoming fundraising initiatives and events that we are working on. This weekend I am going on my very first major giving donor prospect visit with Taye. He’s going to teach me the fine art of asking a wealthy donor to give tens of thousands of dollars to the Foundation. In equal parts, I am excited and terrified.
The only problem I have now is telling my very overprotective boyfriend that I am going to be gone for a few days, without him and meeting privately with a rich stranger. Both of which he’d balk at. In a normal relationship, this shouldn’t be a problem, but Chase and I are anything but normal. It’s not as if he doesn’t go on plenty of business trips alone. I don’t bat an eyelash when he jets off to put out some fire at one of his companies across the nation or the globe for that matter. Sure, I miss him terribly when he is gone, but didn’t some philosophical genius say that absence makes the heart grow fonder? I believe it to be true because when Chase is gone I think about him incessantly. So much so that the girls all know when he is out of town based on my depressive sulking and lack of interest in going out with them. They understand that I am in deep with Chase and tease me like crazy over it.
It takes some time to get up my nerve, but I finally I come to the conclusion that the best way to handle this trip, is to not make a big deal about it. I am going to New York with Taye whether Chase approves or not. I’ll just shoot him a quick text and be done with it.
To: Chase Davis
From: Gillian Callahan
I’m going out of town on a donor visit Thursday through Sunday with Taye. Excited! I’ve never been to New York City.
I re-read the text. Sounds straightforward, to the point. There’s nothing special about it or any hidden meaning. I click send and turn to my computer to crunch some numbers. Ever since the promotion a few weeks ago I’ve been thrown into the world of budgeting and forecasting. At first it was a daunting world I wasn’t familiar with, but I’ve found that I’m actually pretty good at it. I’m able to see the areas where we can grow our donor dollars as well as the areas of concern that need more attention. My cell phone pings.
From: Chase Davis
To: Gillian Callahan
I’d prefer you didn’t go alone.
If I’m honest with myself, I had an inkling that he wouldn’t be thrilled about me heading out of town, but I won’t be alone.
To: Chase Davis
From: Gillian Callahan
I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Taye.
I send the text and start reviewing my numbers again. I’m disrupted by the ping from my cellphone once more. I roll my eyes and look down at the display.
From: Chase Davis
To: Gillian Callahan
That doesn’t make me feel better. I’ll schedule one of my jets for the three of us. End of discussion.
End of discussion? Is he psychotic? He knows that’s going to piss me off. I’m not a wallflower. I can handle myself. Though I can’t say I wouldn’t mind being in the city that never sleeps with my sexy man. My mind flitters back to this morning, his long, thick cock hammering into me, the hot water from the shower sluicing down my back, adding to the fire raging within our melding bodies. His mouth covered mine and his tongue entered me hard and fast in the same mating dance our lower bodies were in. I shake off the thoughts and squeeze my thighs together relieving some of the pressure. The desire I get just thinking about our lovemaking makes me completely stupid. I fire back a text as fast as my fingers can type.
To: Chase Davis
From: Gillian Callahan
I don’t need a chaperone. I am a big girl. I can handle myself.
I wait for his return text. Doesn’t he have a job running an empire?
From: Chase Davis
To: Gillian Callahan
I won’t sleep knowing you’re in NYC without me. I’m coming with you. I own an apartment there. We’ll have dinne
r with my cousin.
That’s right! His cousin Craig lives in New York. I haven’t met him yet. Of course he knows that the desire to meet his family would sway me and seal the deal. Sneaky bastard.
To: Chase Davis
From: Gillian Callahan
Fine.
No kissy faces, no XOXO. Responding flippantly is all I can manage. As upset as it makes me that he’s hovering over me like a helicopter mom over her five year old, I do love spending time with him. The prospect of seeing his apartment in New York City is exhilarating as well. Funny, he never mentioned it before. With as much business as he does there it made sense to have an apartment in a city like New York. I remember him mentioning a home in Chicago and of course the Penthouse in San Francisco. Makes me wonder how many homes he has? I’ll have to ask him about it later. He doesn’t text me again and for that I’m grateful. He’s probably gloating about winning, this time at least.
After a brutal day of staring at numbers and spreadsheet after spreadsheet, I need a drink. Entering the apartment I stumble on Maria and Tom making out on the couch. His hand is under her shirt, rhythmically squeezing her large breast. Her hand is shoved deep into his underwear fondling his manhood. I stare in shock, mouth wide open in awe. Ribbons of excitement tingle along my skin. The scene before me is so fucking hot. Her tongue is delving into his mouth while her hips gyrate against his groin. Makes me wish I went to Chase’s apartment instead of coming home. I could be riding my own man right now. Probably not. He mentioned something about working late.
I try to quietly sneak to my room to give them privacy when my briefcase catches on the wall and drags against the stucco. Dammit! I turn slowly and the couple has righted themselves. Both are gasping for air, Maria crosses her legs sweetly.
“Gigi, didn’t expect you to come home tonight,” she says through gasps of air.
A smile slips over my features. “Obviously.” I grin wickedly.
Body (Trinity Trilogy Book 1) Page 25