War of Hearts

by Julia Sykes

  I mulled that over. It was weird, unlike anything I’d ever heard of.

  But of course I wanted Marco to be happy. I craved his pleasure, his smile.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I want you to be happy, Marco.”

  “Daddy,” he corrected me.

  My cheeks flamed, but the words left my lips without a second thought. “I want you to be happy, Daddy.”

  His brilliant grin knocked the air from my chest. “That’s my sweet girl.”

  I returned his smile, giddy excitement flooding my system. I liked when he spoke to me with such warm approval.

  Marco started gathering what he needed from the fridge to make lunch.

  “You don’t have to make all my meals.” I’d let him make every meal for me since I’d arrived. I hadn’t lifted a finger to help. And while I wasn’t much of a cook, I suddenly felt guilty for taking Marco for granted.

  He shot me a warning look. “I want to, and don’t let me hear you say another word about it. I told you: I’m going to take care of you today. Let me.”

  “Okay.” I felt a little useless, sitting here while he worked. So, I passed the short span of time by watching his bulky muscles flex and shift as he moved. His tight black shirt did little to hide his physique, and his dark jeans hugged his ass perfectly.

  I was practically drooling by the time he sat down beside me, placing a single plate between us. The sandwich was stuffed with enough pastrami for two people, and he’d provided far more hummus and carrot sticks than I could eat by myself.

  “Where’s yours?” I asked, puzzled.

  “This is for both of us.”

  “Oh.” I still didn’t understand why we were sharing off one plate, but he’d cut the sandwich down the middle, so I supposed there was enough food for both of us.

  I reached for my half, but he caught my wrist and directed my hand back to my lap. He picked up a carrot stick and dipped it in the hummus before lifting it to my mouth.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Taking care of you. Open up, babygirl.”

  “I can feed myself.”

  “Of course you can. But I want to feed you today. Now, be a good girl for Daddy and eat your vegetables.”

  This was weird. It made me uncomfortable and hot and tingly.

  My lips parted, and the salty hummus touched my tongue. The carrot crunched beneath my teeth, sweet mingling with salt.

  Marco’s smile hit me square in the chest. I’d never seen him like this: proud and pleased in a way I couldn’t fully comprehend.

  Even though I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it, I basked in his pleasure. If allowing him to feed me felt this good, why fight it?

  Marco watched me intently as I ate every bite he brought to my lips, his eyes darkening and his lids growing heavy as I complied. He even held my glass of water to my lips, insisting that I drink intermittently. He needed me to do as he told me. I could see it in the way his lips curved with satisfaction when I obeyed.

  His pleasure was catching. By the time I finished my lunch, my body felt strangely light, and I was grinning like a fool. I didn’t have a care or worry in my head, because Marco was taking care of me.

  He held my hand while he ate his own share of our meal, as though he couldn’t bear to break contact with me.

  I didn’t want him to, either.

  When he polished off the last of the food, he cleaned up the plate and came back to me. He held out his hand, waiting for me to wrap my fingers around his. I did so without hesitation, and he led me to the media room.

  Well, he called it the media room. It was more like an in-home theater. The massive screen took up one wall, and the plush sectional couch could have easily seated ten people.

  He sat in one corner of the couch, propping back against it while he stretched his legs out in front of him. I moved to sit beside him, but he shifted my body with his sure, strong hands. When he was finished moving me into position, I laid on my side, stretched out beside him with my head resting on his thighs.

  He stroked my hair with one hand and picked up the remote with the other.

  Tears filled my eyes when the movie started. Nostalgia and affection for Marco swelled.

  The Last Unicorn.

  “You remembered,” I murmured.

  “Of course I did. Now hush, and watch the movie.”

  He continued stroking my hair, his fingers playing through the silken strands in a hypnotic rhythm. As I sank into relaxation, he rubbed my scalp and my nape in a light massage. I melted against him, humming in contentment as the familiar story played out on the screen.

  By the time the credits rolled, I felt even lighter than I had after lunch. I’d thought my dynamic with Marco was complicated, but being with him like this was so simple. Easy. I didn’t have to stress or make any hard decisions. I didn’t have to worry about my responsibilities or what anyone expected of me.

  All that mattered was what Marco expected of me, and that was to be good for him and let him take care of me.

  I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. He practically radiated contentment, and he continued stroking me.

  “Why am I like this?” I asked him. “I mean, I like what we’re doing. But it’s not normal, is it?” I wasn’t concerned about it anymore. I was curious.

  “Does it matter if it’s normal? Does it matter what other people think, if this makes both of us happy?”

  “I guess not. I still don’t understand, though.”

  His hand stilled in my hair for a moment. “Tell me about your relationship with your parents.”

  I flinched; the question punctured my happy little bubble.

  He resumed petting me. “We don’t have to talk about this now, but if you want to understand, it would help if I knew more about your upbringing.”

  “There’s not much to talk about,” I hedged.

  A small frown tugged at his lips. “Don’t hide from me,” he warned. “I know your father never responded to your email about taking time off from college. I know you didn’t message your mother at all. Are you estranged from your parents?”

  I tried to turn my face away, but his fingers tightened in my hair, trapping me beneath his incisive gaze.

  “My dad loves me.” Even I could hear how defensive I sounded. “He just has high expectations. He wants me to succeed.”

  “He puts a lot of pressure on you,” Marco read the truth in my words. “You’re obviously intelligent and hardworking. You wouldn’t have been accepted at Harvard, otherwise. Does your father tell you he’s proud of you?”

  “No,” I whispered. “Not really.” It was expected that I would work hard and do well, so there was no need for positive reinforcement when I succeeded. There was only a need for censure when I failed.

  “And what about your mother?”

  “We don’t really talk.”

  “Why not?” he pressed, not willing to let me stop there.

  My eyes stung. “Well, my parents divorced when I was eight. My mother moved to Chicago for her career, and she decided it was best for me to stay with Dad. She works crazy hours.” A lump formed in my throat, but I continued. “Then, she met someone new. She got remarried and started a new family in Chicago. She forgot about me in Savannah.”

  All I’d wanted for as long as I could remember was to have a family of my own. I dreamed about getting married and having babies. I longed to have people in my life I could love unconditionally. People who would love me in return.

  I didn’t dare voice that dream aloud to my father or my friends. It was expected that I would go to a prestigious college and get more than my MRS. Degree. My father would be appalled if he knew that I wanted to meet a man who would start a family with me.

  Marco brushed a tear from my cheek. “You want someone to take care of you. Someone who’s proud of you for who you are, not what they want you to be. And that’s okay.”

  “Is it?” I asked desperately. “I’ve lived my whole life trying to impress
my dad. He’d be so ashamed if he knew all I really want is to get married and have babies. All I want is to stay at home and raise my children.”

  “You don’t have to worry about what your father thinks,” he said firmly. “What he wants you to be doesn’t matter. What matters is what will make you happy. This is your life, Ashlyn. Not his. If you never want to go back to school, that’s okay. Know that whatever you choose, I’ll be proud of you. I’ll take care of you, no matter what.”

  My tears spilled over his fingers, falling faster than he could wipe them away. No one had ever told me they were proud of me, and certainly not unconditionally. It was why I didn’t trust people easily; if I let myself be open and vulnerable for even a second, I might get hurt.

  “I’ve always felt like I have to be perfect in everything I do, or my dad would be disappointed in me,” I admitted.

  “I think you’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

  He lifted me up in his arms, holding me close while I cried cathartic tears. I’d never told anyone my deepest secrets before. I’d never trusted anyone like I was trusting Marco. Not even Joseph, even though I’d wanted to open up to him.

  “Do you understand now, babygirl?” he asked when my tears subsided. “Does the way you feel about me make sense?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice still thick from crying. “But what about you? Why do you like this?”

  All I could see was my benefit from this dynamic. Marco took care of me, and I didn’t have to do anything to earn his affection.

  But what did he get out of taking on that responsibility?

  His jaw firmed, but he continued to cuddle me close. “I need someone to take care of. I need to feel needed, necessary,” he admitted. “I don’t have a great relationship with my father, either. Joseph is my only family now.”

  “What about your mom?” I asked softly, almost afraid to push him.

  His eyes shuttered. “She died when I was eleven.”

  Fresh tears flowed from my eyes, but this time, they were for him. “I’m so sorry.” I could tell he wasn’t ready to talk about her, about his pain. But it was enough that he’d shared his loss with me. I understood him better now. I understood why he wanted me in this particular, strange way.

  He blinked and focused on me again, but his jaw was still clenched. “I have a surprise for you, princess.”

  He got to his feet, guiding me up with him.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  A ghost of his smile returned, but his eyes were still tight with worry. “I’ll show you. Come on.”

  He led me through the massive house. I thought he must be taking me to the backyard, but instead, we entered the glass-walled conservatory.

  At first, all I could see was the indoor garden. A large, rectangular patch of dirt was raised about four feet off the ground, walled in by patterned, pale blue tiles. A variety of floral bushes grew from the soil. I couldn’t identify them, but the colorful blooms were pretty. I hadn’t seen them up close before, because I’d never entered this space from inside the house. I’d only peered in at the pool when Joseph and I went for walks outside.

  Marco led me around the indoor garden, and I sucked in a surprised gasp.

  The pool.

  It had been cleaned and filled, and the glowing blue water called to me, practically begging me to dive in.

  I turned to him with a delighted giggle. “You fixed it for me,” I exclaimed. “Thank you.”

  His lips curved in a smile, but tension lingered around his eyes. He seemed upset about something, and I didn’t understand.

  “What is it?” I asked, some of my joy deflating. “Why didn’t you want me to go swimming?” I remembered the way he’d glared at Joseph when he’d asked Marco to get the pool serviced. I’d thought it was because Marco didn’t care about my happiness, but now, he’d made it clear that wasn’t the case.

  He brushed a kiss against my forehead. “I like seeing you smile, princess. So, I changed my mind.”

  He hadn’t really answered my question, but he didn’t give me a chance to press him.

  “Go on,” he urged. “Get in.”

  “But I don’t have a swimsuit.”

  A wicked grin chased away the last of his tension. “No, you don’t. Strip.”

  I hesitated.

  He leaned in close, his warm breath teasing over my neck. “Are you feeling shy, babygirl? Daddy’s already seen you naked. I want to see you again. Be a good girl, and do as you’re told.”

  My fingers trembled as I reached for the hem of my camisole, but I wasn’t scared. Lust coursed through me, making me tingle all over. My entire body was aware of his nearness, his heat, his strength.

  I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to be naked for him, so he could admire me. No one had ever looked at me the way Marco and Joseph did: like I was the most precious thing in their world.

  They didn’t think I was a slut they could use for their dirty games. They wanted to share me because they both revered me. It was heady knowledge, and my mind spun as I grew intoxicated by Marco’s open admiration.

  I tossed my shirt aside and shimmied out of my yoga pants. Since we’d been lounging around the house, I hadn’t bothered to put on shoes, so I was fully bare for Marco in a matter of seconds. I no longer minded that Joseph hadn’t provided me with underwear. I liked knowing that there was only a thin barrier between my body and my men’s hands.

  My men. Joseph and Marco. They were both mine. I could hardly believe it.

  I reached for Marco’s shirt, but he guided my hands away.

  I glanced up into his dark eyes, puzzled. “Don’t you want to get in with me?” I liked the idea of skinny-dipping with Marco. It seemed fun and silly and naughty.

  “I’ll be right here watching you, princess. Now, go on.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I guessed it wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary. Not everyone liked to swim. And while I’d like to be more playful with Marco in the pool, I wouldn’t at all mind swimming a few laps for the first time in months. I’d neglected my routine ever since I’d met Joseph at Harvard, and I longed to get back in the water.

  I left Marco’s side and stepped to the edge of the pool, at the deep end. I dived in, my outstretched arms slicing through the water with practiced ease. I swam the length of the pool, kicked off from the side, and completed my first lap. As I continued, my mind went quiet. I’d already been in a blissed-out state after my happy day with Marco, but now, I was even more relaxed.

  After a while, I paused to take a few deep breaths, propping my arms on the tiled edge of the pool. I grinned up at Marco.

  When my eyes met his, my smile melted.

  His tension had returned, and his strong body practically vibrated. The hard planes of his face were harsher than ever, his jaw clenched so tight, I was sure he was grinding his teeth. He wasn’t looking at me, but he was glaring at the water.

  “You look like the water’s going to attack me,” I said, trying to lighten his mood. “You don’t have to protect me from the pool.”

  He jerked his head in a sharp nod, but the taut lines of his face didn’t ease. I studied him for a few seconds longer, trying to puzzle out his expression.

  Anguish.

  I pushed myself up out of the pool and closed the distance between us without a second thought. He didn’t even glance down at the water sliding off my body; his eyes fixed on mine. They were dark with pain. I recognized it now.

  When he’d glowered at Joseph at the restaurant, he hadn’t been angry over Joseph asking him to fill the pool for me. He hadn’t been annoyed at the idea of going out of his way to make the arrangements for me.

  His anger masked his true emotions. He was scared. Hurt.

  I lifted my hand to his face, touching my palm to his clenched jaw. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t like pools,” he said tersely. “They’re not safe.”

  “I’m perfectly safe,” I said calmly, trying to soothe him. “I’ve been swimming my e
ntire life. And you’re here, watching over me. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

  “Yes, I’m right here. And you’re never allowed to use the pool unless I’m watching. Do you understand?”

  “Do you not know how to swim?” I didn’t understand why he was so upset.

  “Of course I do. That’s why I’m going to stay right here, in case you need me.”

  I stared up at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. He said he could swim, but he hadn’t wanted to get in the pool with me. Now, he was talking like I might get hurt somehow if he wasn’t here to guard me.

  “Why are you so upset?” I finally asked the direct question, daring to push him.

  His eyes flared with a flash of rage, but he didn’t move a muscle. The anger wasn’t directed at me.

  “Because I wasn’t always there,” he almost shouted in my face, but I didn’t flinch away. He needed to tell me something important, and I wouldn’t show him how intimidated I was by his swinging mood. “My brother…” his voice broke, and he turned his face away.

  I applied light pressure to his jaw, redirecting his gaze to mine. My stomach churned, and I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to hear what was coming next.

  But I needed to know. And whatever this secret was, Marco needed to share it with me. When I’d first met him, I’d thought there was something cold and dark about his soul. Now, I could see that darkness wasn’t evil; it was a scar on his heart that he hid behind his cool exterior.

  “Tell me,” I whispered.

  “My brother. Little Leo. He drowned. I should have been watching him, but I was too busy playing my own games. He was two years old. Then, my mother…” A shudder wracked his body. “She died three years later. Overdosed on alcohol and pills. I killed her, too.”

  “Marco,” I said his name tremulously, my heart breaking for him. “You were just a little boy. You weren’t responsible for what happened.”

  “Of course I was,” he snapped. “I am. They’re gone, and it’s my fault. No wonder my father wants nothing to do with me.”

  “You deserve to be loved, Marco.” The words came from deep in my soul. I wasn’t ready to say I love you yet; it was too soon for that. What we shared was too new, but I needed him to know that no matter what had happened in his past, he deserved love.