I hadn’t blinked once. The pain in my chest was impossible to understand. I didn’t feel sympathy for other people, not after what I’d experienced. People always thought they understood true suffering, but their problems were always petty. But with Rome, I’d met my match.
“You’re doing it again.”
I didn’t look away. “Doing what?” My voice came out weak, and I didn’t clear my throat. The weakness escaped, and I couldn’t hide it.
“You feel bad for me.”
“How can I not?” I would have to be dead to feel nothing.
“Because I’m one of the lucky ones.” Her voice grew strong once again, full of life and vibrancy. “I got out of that situation, and now I’m free. I have access to food and water whenever I need it, and there’s not a single person in the world who can deprive me of it. Most people don’t get out. Most people don’t survive. But I did. So don’t look at me like that anymore. Please.”
I rested my hand on the table but couldn’t break my gaze. And I certainly couldn’t change the way I felt. “You’re asking me to do something that I can’t do. I’m sorry.”
“Just don’t think about it.” She pushed her empty plate off to the side then sipped her wine. She finally broke eye contact with me, staring at the surface of the table.
“Was Christopher in that basement with you?”
“No. He was in a different basement in a different place. We met once we were placed in the same foster care. I was fifteen, and he was sixteen. We understood each other from the moment we met. Everyone has their own unique hardship, but ours were strangely similar. We decided we were family, brother and sister. And when families came to adopt us, we said we were a pair. If you wanted one of us, you had to have both.”
The story was fascinating, but I wished it wasn’t true. “I noticed he doesn’t eat much either.”
“He had it worse than I did. He was locked in his basement for a whole week.”
How Christopher was so warm and fun was beyond me. Both of them were unnaturally strong and kind. Without knowing about their pasts, I wouldn’t have guessed it. It was a miracle they got through it, let alone escaped with their minds intact. “After that, everything was okay?”
“No.” She shook her head. “The man who adopted us seemed normal in the beginning. But once the social workers stopped checking on us because they assumed we were in a good home, his true colors came out. When we were both eighteen, we ran away and started our new lives.”
I couldn’t bear to hear any more of this story. Knowing she starved alone inside a dark basement was enough to make me snap. I couldn’t handle any more of it. I’d assumed I was devoid of all emotion, unsympathetic to anyone and anything, but she proved how wrong I was. “I’m sorry for my behavior at the food drive.” Now I understood why she was so upset. I understood I crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You didn’t know.”
Now I wish I did.
“I didn’t tell you this so you could treat me differently. I didn’t explain my past so you would be delicate with me. I assure you, I’m a happy person who feels lucky to be alive. Give your sympathy to someone who truly deserves it.”
No matter what she said, I couldn’t give her what she wanted. I didn’t look at her as weak. Quite the contrary. But the inexplicable need to protect her came forth. I wanted to buy her the world so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again. “And there was some asshole boyfriend in the picture too?” I probably shouldn’t have said that, but now my rage was doing all the talking.
She eyed me suspiciously until she figured out how I knew that information. She was on the phone at her office when I walked inside and heard her entire conversation. Instead of showing her anger, she kept it back. “You don’t want to hear about him.”
“As your boyfriend, I need to know.”
“When did we decide you were my boyfriend?” The fierce opponent I met in the bar was staring back at me. She wasn’t easily provoked, but she became very defensive when she was cornered.
I didn’t do the boyfriend thing, but I needed to be that for her so we could move on to something better—something greater. “The moment I laid eyes on you.” When I spotted her in that bar, I knew I had to have her. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way at the time, but within our first meeting, those feelings were there. The only reason why she hadn’t let me in was because she was scared. If she hadn’t been tormented in the past, we’d be in a much different place. “Take down your walls and let me in.”
For the first time during the conversation, her eyes softened.
“Baby, let me in.”
11
Calloway
“How is she today?”
Theresa walked with me down the hallway and into the room. The furniture was white with hardwood floors, and vases full of fresh flowers were placed everywhere. That was something I recognized from my youth.
And it reminded me that some things never change.
“She’s good.” Theresa opened the door to the balcony. The patio looked over the garden outside. Roses, lilies, and dandelions soaked up the sun and moved in the slight breeze. It was an unnaturally warm day for winter, even in Connecticut. I felt like I walked into a different time.
She was sitting in her rocking chair, knitting a scarf. It was covered in kittens with different colored bows. Slowly, she rocked back and forth, the creak of the wood audible under her light weight.
“Laura, you have a visitor.” Theresa kept her voice cheery, like this meeting was the most exciting one she would have for the day. “He’s from Humanitarians United, and he’s come to read to you today.”
She turned to me with her dark, curly hair, her blue eyes no longer clear, but covered in a heavy fog. She stared at me with indifference, not recognizing a single feature on my face. Like I was a stranger and nothing more, she turned away.
No matter how many times I saw the look, it hurt.
I took the seat beside her and opened her favorite book, Harry Potter. “I’m Calloway. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She stared across the fields, her hands still knitting. “Calloway… I like that name.”
Theresa eyed us both before she walked away and gave us some privacy.
“Thank you.” I opened the book and turned to the first page. “I’ve got a book I think you might like.”
“What is it?”
“Harry Potter.”
She arched an eyebrow and turned her gaze back to her knitting. “Never heard of it.”
I knew that would be her answer but it surprised me all the same. The hopeful side of me expected something different every time I came to visit. By some miracle, I hoped she would suddenly remember more than just her name. “I think you’ll like it.”
She finally stopped knitting and turned to me, her cheekbones high and her lips pursed in displeasure. “You’re a good-looking young man. Are you married?”
“Thanks. And no, I’m not.”
“No kids?”
“No.” Even without remembering me, she was disappointed.
“What a shame.” She started to knit again. “What do you do at Humanitarians United?”
“I’m the director.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“Thanks…” It was all the pride I was ever going to get from her.
“So why are you reading to an old woman like me?”
“You aren’t old.” In fact, she was way too young to be in here.
She smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say, Cal.” Naturally, she called me by my nickname, how everyone referred to me. She picked it up just the way she used to, not breaking her stride.
“I guess I’m a sweet guy.”
“And you really aren’t married?”
I smiled. “No.” And I never would be.
“One day you will be, and you’ll make some woman very happy.”
“Yeah…I’m sure I will. So, shall
I begin?”
“No. Can we just sit and talk? I feel like I don’t talk to anyone around here.”
My lips dropped into a frown, but I tried to hide it. “Of course.”
“Tell me about yourself. Do you have any siblings?”
Jackson never came with me to the assisted living home. He said our mother died a long time ago. Visiting her ghost just made it more hurtful. “I have a younger brother named Jackson. We’re only a year apart.”
“That’s wonderful. Are you close?”
Not really. “Yeah.”
“Delightful. What about your parents? Is your father handsome like you?”
Jackson and I both looked like our father—it was frightening. “My father passed away eight years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Your mother?”
I stared at her hair, seeing the gray strands creep into her dark hair. There were faint lines underneath her eyes, and the corners of her lips had tiny wrinkles that were hardly noticeable. In her youth, she was beautiful, but I still thought she was a pretty lady. “She passed away too.”
“Dear, I’m so sorry.” She reached for my hand and grabbed it, her cold fingers somehow feeling warm against my skin.
I squeezed her hand back, enjoying the limited affection I shared with her. I was just a man who came to visit her. She pitied me for everything that I lost, but I pitied her because she didn’t remember anyone she lost. It wasn’t a contest, but if it were, neither one of us won.
I’d just walked out of the office when she called me.
“Hey, sweetheart.” My mood immediately picked up once I saw her name on the screen. After dinner the other night, it seemed like things were different between us, more intense in a good way. Some of her walls had come down, and she actually made an effort to let me in.
“Hey, sexy.”
“I like that nickname.”
“I think it’s suitable.”
“So what does my lady want?”
She paused when she listened to the way I referred to her. “To see if you wanted to do something tonight.”
I wanted to do a lot of things tonight. “Come over for some popcorn and a movie. And a little bit of Frenching.”
“Just a little?” she teased.
“Alright. Maybe a lot.” And there would be a lot of pussy licking too.
“Sure. Want me to pick up some food on the way?”
“Nah, I’ll make something.” She never asked me to do something this casually before. It was like we were longtime partners who preferred to hide away from the rest of the world. All of this was new to me, but I caught on pretty quickly. I’d had a girlfriend once in high school but never since. “You just get that fine ass over here.” And lubed up.
“Okay, I will. See you soon.”
“Bye, baby.” I hung up then walked down the sidewalk until I reached my car. I was glad she didn’t invite me to her place because I hated that goddamn apartment. It was run-down with bad people around. The idea of her sleeping there without any protection put me on edge. I would buy her an apartment if she’d let me. But I knew how that conversation would go.
We sat on the couch with our wine and popcorn. The movie played on the TV, but neither one of us watched it. She crawled into my lap then straddled my hips, her pussy sitting right on the definition of my hard-on.
She ran her hands up my chest, her long hair pulled over one shoulder. “How was your day?”
I cherished the feel of her nails against my t-shirt. I loved the pressure and the memory of her gripping me the last time I made her come. “Good. Yours?”
“It was slow at the office. I’ve had a hard time getting donors.”
“Want my advice?”
“Always.” She tilted her head slightly, showing her slender neck.
“Go to the donors.”
“I’m not a salesperson.”
“Then don’t act like a salesperson. Show them how their donation can get them some spotlight. Maybe some of these people are genuine and want to help others. But most of them just want the credit. Play to their egos, and you’ll always get what you want.”
“You’re clever, aren’t you?” Her hands moved to my shoulders, and she massaged them gently.
“Very.” I gripped her lean thighs then slowly slid my hands up to her ass. I loved that perky backside of hers. I couldn’t wait to rub my cock between her cheeks before I shoved my thick cock in her puckered little asshole.
She adjusted her hips slightly, feeling my hard dick through my jeans. Anytime she was near me, I was hard because my mind was so obsessed with this woman—and no one else. “Can I ask you something?”
I didn’t hesitate to reply. “Yes.”
“It’s personal.”
She told me something personal about herself, so I could tell her something personal about me. “That’s fine.”
“When you said you were my boyfriend, did you mean we’re exclusive?”
“You bet your ass I did.” If she even hugged another man, I’d be livid about it. I hadn’t fucked her, but she was mine. I wished I could give her a black ring to put on her right hand so people would stay the fuck away from her.
“So…you aren’t seeing anyone else?” The hope picked up in her voice.
I swallowed the insult deep down into my gut. “No. You’re the only woman I’ve touched, kissed, or pretty much looked at since I saw you in that bar.”
Her eyes softened, and a small smile formed on her face. “You’re such a catch. I guess I’m surprised you aren’t playing the field more. You know, sowing your seeds.”
“There’s only one field I want to sow my seeds in.” My cock twitched at the thought of her pussy overflowing with my cum. “I’m a one-woman kind of guy when I meet the right person.” Isabella and I were exclusive because she was the perfect submissive. Prior to that, I had short-term flings with strangers. It was never about playing the field. I’d always been seeking the perfect sub to fulfill my fantasies like no one else ever could.
“And you think I’m the right woman?”
“Yes.” I gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to me.
“Why?” She tilted her head to the side again, interested in my response.
I couldn’t tell her the truth, that she looked like the ultimate woman I could break. She was strong as steel, and I didn’t want to bend her, but snap her in two. One day, I would come clean about my intentions. But, for now, I couldn’t. “It’s one of those situations where you can’t explain what you see and what you feel. Like a rock deep in the pit of your stomach, you just know it’s there. All I know is, when I saw you walk into that bar, I was a goner. And when you slapped me, with that fire in your eyes, I knew I’d met a woman powerful, strong, and resilient as fuck. And that turned me on like nothing ever has.”
She hung on to every word, trying to understand what I meant. “You liked it when I slapped you?”
She put me on the spot, so I answered. “Yeah. You’ve got spunk. I like that.”
“Even though I didn’t bother to make sure I had the right man?”
I searched her face, concentrating on those beautiful green eyes that always took me to a peaceful place. “You did have the right man.” I pulled her ass closer to me until her chest was right in my face. I leaned my head on the back of the couch and looked up at her, her dark hair forming a curtain around my face. My hand fisted the back of her head, gripping her strands. I looked up at her and listened to her breathing, noticing how uneven it was. It was the most romantic thing I’d ever said to a woman, and being romantic was never my intention.
She pressed her face into mine and kissed me softly, her lips desperate for mine in a restrained way. Her hands cupped my face, and she deepened the kiss, her bottom grinding over my cock.
It was the first time I didn’t want sex. I was hard as hell and eager for her, but this was enough for me. Just feeling her lips was enough to satisfy me. I pulled her closer and continued the tender embrace
. When I was with her, I was a different man. I wasn’t so callused and hard. Somehow, I had a heart that I had assumed stopped beating a long time ago.
And I had a soul.
It was nearly midnight, and we both had work in the morning. On top of that, I had to go to Ruin and check on a few things. Jackson wasn’t trustworthy when it came to the business side of things. He tried to be responsible but always got sidetracked by the company inside the club—not that I blamed him. But that meant Rome needed to go home.
She was on top of my chest on the couch, her hair a mess across my shirt. A red blanket covered her torso and kept her warm, and my body was a natural heater to fight the cold. I didn’t want to move her, but I didn’t want to have a sleepover.
It practically gave me anxiety.
I sat up and moved her with me, my hands circling her petite waist. I adjusted her against my chest so she wouldn’t tip over and fall back on the couch. A waft of vanilla and lavender hit my nose, her scent mingled with the light perfume she wore. Every time I smelled her, it was a little different. She was always changing it up like her outfits. “It’s getting late. Let’s get you home.”
She moaned against my chest. “I’m too tired.”
The soft side of me wanted to let her stay. She would be harmless in the bed beside me, fast asleep through the entire night. The following morning, I would wake up to the peaceful expression on her face. But the hard side of me always prevailed, and I knew letting her stay wasn’t an option. “That’s okay. I’ve got you.” I lifted her from the couch and carried her toward the garage.
Lighter than air, she nearly had no weight. But when she struggled in my arms, I could feel the strength of her frame. “What are you doing?” She was slowly stirring, coming back to reality.
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