Secrets Behind Those Eyes

by S. M. Donaldson

  Well, Beau Diesel is certainly a romantic, I think dryly.

  Six months later, he took my virginity. Then, he broke my heart. Then, he broke it again and again and again. This is our story…

  CHAPTER 1

  You can’t help who you fall in love with. You can try to defy it. You can almost fully believe it. But, it will always be there, deep down. A strong pull. A connection. A whole lot of love, lust and caring for the one person who you know you can never have. You can almost convince yourself that you’re not in love with them. But you’re only living in denial. Love always finds a way to win. Just like it did for me.

  My father, Dominic Faretti, is your typical businessman. In our community, he looks like any other man who owns a business. He wears expensive suits, he works long hours and he provides well for me. But I know different. While I don’t know the whole story, I do know that my father’s business adventures aren’t entirely legal – actually they probably aren’t legal at all. I know this because he has no problem admitting that he shot my mother in the back of the head at close range when I was little. Call me silly, but that isn’t the act of a law abiding citizen. My father spent only four years in jail before he was released for good behavior. I suspect his release also had something to do with his connections, but he’s never talked about it.

  I spent those four years living between members of my father’s “family”. They weren’t blood family, of course. They were people who worked for my father, but he treated them like family.

  The reason he shot my mother is pretty straight forward. You see, my father says I was the most beautiful little girl he’d ever laid eyes on. Of course, he has to say this – he’s my father and he’s biased – but everyone else in the family agrees with him, so I guess I must have been pretty cute.

  My mother was quite young when she had me and she’d had a rough childhood. When she brought me home from the hospital, she mentioned to wife of one of my father employees that she was planning to leave my dad and taking me away. She had grown up in the child sex slave industry and thought she could get rich by pimping me out.

  According to Monique, the woman she’d told her plans to, she was hoping to get in touch with her previous contacts and set the ball rolling. Then she’d leave my father and take me to the city.

  There was a market for babies as young as one year old, but because I was only a newborn, she had the bright idea of taking naked pictures of me and selling them to pedophiles on the internet to make money until I reached my first birthday. Of course, Monique contacted my father immediately and told him of my mother’s plans. She didn’t deny it when he asked her. She wasn’t even ashamed of her plans. I was her daughter and she couldn’t give a fuck about the life she was planning on throwing me into. All she saw were dollar signs.

  That’s why I feel nothing when I think of her. Nothing at all. I’m a daddy’s girl through and through. My dad may do illegal things, but I don’t care one bit. He saved me from a life of pain, heartache and sorrow. He gave me the best of everything and made me feel safe and protected my entire life. Every day I thank my lucky stars for my father, and that’s why, when I got that phone call that my dad was sick, I dropped everything and came home.

  CHAPTER 2

  Shoving me up against the wall, my feet leave the ground as Beau takes my weight by gripping my ass and lifting me. My legs wrap around his muscled waist and my ankles cross over, resting against his ass. One hand leaves my ass and travels to my pussy. I moan as he thrusts two fingers inside me before adding a third. His thumb circles my clit and I cry out, letting my head fall back against the wall behind me. His mouth finds my nipple and he sucks the pebbled bud hard.

  “You want this, Duchess?”

  “Yes. Fuck me, please, Beau. Fuck me,” I beg, unashamedly.

  His fingers leave my pussy, and in one sharp thrust, he fills me. I scream out, as his cock bottoms out inside me. Then, he begins to move. He sets a steady pace, pumping in and out of me until a fine sheen of sweat covers both of us.

  “Please, Beau,” I pant. My orgasm is just beyond reach, but if he gives it to me a bit harder, I know I’ll find it in no time. “Harder.” I push my body down on him and his eyes flash.

  “You want it hard, baby?”

  “Yes.” My answer comes out sounding short, sharp and high pitched.

  “You want it hard, baby, I’m going to give it to you so hard, you’ll feel my cock in your throat,” he growls into the crook of my neck.

  “Yes,” I almost sigh.

  He pulls out almost all the way before slamming inside me and grinding hard against my pelvis. He does it again and again until my body contracts and detonates with the force of my orgasm. A kaleidoscope of color fills my vision as my head falls back on my shoulders and I’m sure I pass out. When I come to, Beau’s hands are under my arms, his palms are flat against the top of my back and his fingers are curled around, holding the top of my shoulders. They dig in as he slams me down on each upward thrust. His balls slap against my ass with force as he continues to drive inside me.

  “Oh, fuck!” I shout.

  “Give me more,” he growls in my face with a ferocity I can’t even explain.

  “Can’t,” I say breathlessly.

  “More,” he shouts before bending his head down and pulling my nipple into his mouth. He sucks so hard, I almost cry out in pain, but before I can he releases my nipple and moves his head slightly left to suck on the other one. He grinds against me and my swollen clitoris trembles with the contact. My entire body shudders in his arms as another orgasm rips through my body. I lean forward and suck his neck, kissing him up to his ear. Taking his lobe into my mouth, I gently roll it between my teeth, while my heavy breathing rushes against his skin in bursts. My hands travel up and down his back, reveling in the sculptured beauty that is him. The room is filled with his groans, and my moans. The sound of our skin slapping together echoes all around and I feel myself get even wetter from the scent of our sex surrounding us.

  He continues to thrust in and out of me with a force I never knew existed. Then I feel his breath hitch and his cock expands inside me before exploding. His warm come shoots up inside me and a tremble runs through my body.

  He rests his head against my shoulder while he steadies his ragged breathing. My pussy continues to throb, pulsing against his cock until it softens inside me. He slips out of me and lowers me to my feet. My legs feel like jello and I’m overcome with tiredness.

  He tips my chin up so my weary eyes meet his. He looks at me like he’s seeing inside my soul. It’s unnerving but I can’t tear my gaze away. He lowers his head to mine and takes my mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and mine part to grant him access. He tastes every inch of me, as if I’m his last meal. I return his kiss with vigor. My hands run up and down his chiseled arms to wrap around his neck. His hands stay firmly planted on my face, cupping my cheeks, holding my face steady and tilted to the side. Pulling back, he rests his forehead on mine for what feels like hours. I watch as he takes a step back from me, my body immediately craving the return of the warmth he provides.

  His eyes are darker than usual and they’re hiding something. Lust, longing and…pain, flash before me in his brown depths before he closes his eyes and gives a little shake of his head. His eyes reopen and I can tell the shutters have come down. His eyes are back to being hard and void of any emotion.

  “That can’t happen again, Harlow,” he surprises me by saying.

  “W-what? Why?” I stumble over my words.

  “Don’t fucking question me. I said it can’t happen again, and I mean it.” He roughly tucks his cock back into his jeans and does the zipper up before stalking out of the room without a backward glance.

  My heart thuds in my chest as my cheeks heat. Humiliation rushes over my body, drowning me from head to toe. I sink to the floor and let the tears fall.

  **

  The door clicks open and my head springs up.


  He’s changed his mind. Hope flares in my chest. I quickly wipe the tears from my face and go to sit up.

  “Harlow?” I hear my father. I slump back down.

  He’s not coming back.

  “Harlow, are you down here?”

  “Ye-,” my voice comes out sounding cracked, so I clear my throat. “Yeah, dad. I’ll be up in a second.”

  “Right,” he calls back and I imagine him nodding his head once, sharply as he says the word.

  I climb to my feet and adjust my clothes. After combing my hair with my fingers, I walk with lead feet up the stairs. The light momentarily blinds me as I exit the basement. Closing the door softly behind me, I walk quickly to my room, avoiding eye contact with anyone I pass on my way.

  Entering my room, I don’t pause to look around at my pale-rose colored walls, or my king, four-poster canopy bed. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor as I walk into my private bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I let my breath out in a whoosh. Reaching over, I turn the faucet and fill a bath. I add my favorite jasmine and vanilla scented bubble bath and wait as the water fills the tub. I strip off my clothes and toss them in the dark wood laundry hamper, then I step into the bath and sink down below the bubbles. Laying a wash cloth over my eyes, I lie back and try to relax. I try not to think.

  It’s impossible.

  Beau Diesel. God, I want him – not just sexually. No, I want all of him. His mind, his body, his soul, his heart…everything. I’ve wanted him for so long. But, I’ve known for just as long that he doesn’t want me back.

  He’s seven years older than me, and when we were kids, we used to play together. Not all the time, but sometimes. Like when we had “family gatherings” or he came by the house with his father. At grade school, we didn’t play much but I remember the very first time my heart started beating differently for him. Matthew and Michelle Peterson were twins and they were bullies. One day, Matthew pushed me into a puddle of mud. Then, Michelle, Matthew and a bunch of other kids stood around me in a circle, pointing and laughing at me. Beau was about twelve and I was around five. He saw them and came over to see what was happening. When he saw it was me, he punched Matthew Peterson right in the nose and made him bleed. He told everyone else that if he ever saw them picking on me again, they would be dealing with him. The kids scattered. Beau held his hand out to me and helped me up. He took me to a seat away from everyone and wiped my eyes free of my tears and got me cleaned up as best as possible. No kids ever picked on me again. Every time I saw him after that, my heart beat funny…like a flutter. I’d give him a small, shy smile and he’d give me a cute one-sided grin with a wink.

  Then, his parents sent him to all boys boarding school and I was sent to an all girls boarding school. We lost contact and our lives went in different directions, until one day we were both home at the same time. I was eighteen, he was twenty-five. He took my virginity. I’d never been happier. Stupid me; I thought we’d finally be together. Afterwards, he held me in his arms, and then, with eyes full of regret, he told me we couldn’t be together.

  “It’s just not meant to be, duchess.” He got out of bed and walked out. I stripped my bed sheets and then laid back down and cried myself to sleep.

  I didn’t see him again for five years. I went back to school and after I graduated, I kept my distance by travelling. The only times I returned home were when I was sure Beau wasn’t going to be around. It was difficult, seeing as he was now working for my father, and he spent a lot of time at the house when he wasn’t out on business. Thankfully, my childhood Nanny still worked for my father, only she’s a maid now, so she kept me in the loop about when Beau was going to be around or not.

  Now, here I was – I’d only been home for a week, and already I’d let Beau fuck me and leave me…again.

  Throwing the washcloth off my face, I quickly shave my legs and get out of the now-cool tub water. I take an oversized bath sheet from the warming rack and wrap it around my body, sighing as the warmth engulfs me.

  “I’m so fucking stupid,” I whisper to the girl looking back at me in the mirror. My long dark hair is pulled into a lifeless bun at the base of my neck and sadness shadows my green eyes.

  At least my skin still looks tanned and glowing from my travels.

  Sighing, I rub some moisturizer into my face, arms and legs and then walk out of the bathroom and into my walk-in closet. I chose a pair of loose fitting yoga pants and a tank top, before walking over to my window seat. Grabbing my e-reader, I curl up into myself and begin to read. I know I should be visiting with my dad – he’s the reason I came home. If he hadn’t called to say he had cancer, I would still be travelling, but right now, I can’t face him. I need to get lost in a fictional world for a little while.

  ***

  “Good evening Miss Harlow,” one of the servants greets me as I take my place at the table.

  “Good evening,” I reply quietly.

  I eat the chicken and pesto pasta dish in silence. My father rarely makes it to dinner on a weeknight, but he has always had a baked dinner with me on Sunday evenings. The only time this tradition stopped was when I was travelling. I finish my meal and take my empty plate to the kitchen.

  “Oh, no, no, Miss Harlow, you don’t have to do that,” Francesco, or Frankie, tutts at me. He’s been the house cook for most of my life. He’s short and skinny with a face full of wrinkles and a head of salt and pepper colored hair.

  “You know I don’t mind, Frankie. I’m not an invalid,” I smile warmly at him.

  “I will miss you, Miss Harlow,” he says sincerely.

  “I’ll miss you too, Frankie, but it’s only for a month, right?” Frankie is going back to Sicily to spend some time with his family. Although, most of his relatives are now living in America, he still likes to travel back to see the cousins once every couple of years. He’s leaving tomorrow for four weeks, so Lucy will take on his cooking duties.

  “Yes, I can’t Lucy take over for too long. She’ll think she’s in charge.”

  “Oh, stop it,” I laugh.

  “Go on, now, then. Out of the kitchen,” he shoos me with his hand.

  I walk out of the kitchen and turn left. Nothing much changes around here; the walls are still painted a soft beige color, the same framed prints still hang along the walls and even though it’s never been replaced, the thick, cream wool carpet still has that brand-new-but-worn-in feel about it. I pause to look at a picture on the wall outside my father’s office. It’s a beautiful tile mosaic portrait of the New York skyline. I loved it as soon as I saw it at a trash and treasure sale when I was about twelve years old. My father hated it when I showed him, so to spite him, I had one of my “uncles” hang it right outside his office door. Of course, even though he despises it, he’s never taken it down because he knows I love it.

  I smile to myself and then knock on the heavy, dark wood door. “Daddy?” I call.

  “Come in.”

  I enter the room and it’s a scene I’ve seen many times in my life. My dad, in his suit, sitting behind his imposing wooden desk. The top of the desk is littered with paperwork, his laptop sits open and off to the side. His high-back, super comfy office chair peeks out from above his shoulders and the room smells like citrus and…cigar smoke?

  I narrow my eyes at him and plant my hands on my hips. “Daddy, have you been smoking in here?”

  He doesn’t answer, which means the answer is ‘yes’.

  “Daddy, you know you’re not supposed to smoke. The doctor said you need to stop.”

  “It’s all a bunch of bullshit,” he scoffs at me. “I’ve been dabbling in the occasional cigar since I was old enough to hold one. I didn’t end up with lung cancer, did I? No, I ended up with fucking bowel cancer!” He booms at me. Most people shrink into a corner when my dad starts yelling, but not me. I won’t take his fucking shit!

  “I don’t care what sort of cancer it is – that’s not the point. The point is, you have it, and smoking cigars and drinking whiskey like it’s wat
er, is not going to help you. I’m telling you now, you need to stop it,” I shout back at him. “You’re all I have. I don’t want you to die,” I admit, my voice softening and wavering as tears threaten.

  He rises out of his chair and rounds the desk before wrapping me in his arms. “Now, you listen and you listen good, sweetheart. I will not let this bastard disease take me from you. It’s a pain in my ass and that’s about it. I’m stronger than fucking cancer, do you hear me?”

  ‘Yes,” I whisper. “But, I’m scared.”

  “I know you are. I’ll lay off the cigars and whiskey,” he relents.

  “Thank you,” I smile up at him. He looks down at me like I’m his whole world. His eyes shine with love and his face lights up with a beautiful smile that I don’t get to witness nearly often enough.

  “Right, go on now, I’ve got work to do. If you see Beau on your way here, send him in.”

  My heart stutters at the mention of Beau, but not wanting to give anything away, I simply nod.

  “Love you, daddy. Night.”

  “Love you too, sweetheart.”

  Not wanting to risk bumping into Beau in the corridor, I quickly make my way to my room and close the door behind me. Leaning up against the wall, I sigh. I’m twenty-three, it’s Friday night, and I’m at home in yoga pants. What’s wrong with this situation?

  Pushing off the wall, I walk into my closet and choose a fitted, sexy black dress. I love this dress. It hugs all the right places and gives me curves where I need them. Choosing a sexy dark purple lace bra and thong set, I set everything out and go to my shoe wall. I chew my bottom lip as I browse the rows of stilettos in front of me. Finally, I settle on a pair of fire-engine red, patent leather, peep-toe pumps. I pick up my phone and dial Calista, my best friend.