Claiming What's Mine

by Jennifer Sucevic

  In a desperate bid to stop the inevitable, I say, “Come back to bed.”

  Roman’s gaze shifts to my bare breasts and lingers for a beat. He shakes his head and runs a hand over his hair. Looking me straight in the eyes, he says in a clipped tone, “Last night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen,”

  Even though I suspected this would happen, his dismissive words still sting. “But it did.”

  He shrugs. “I knew it was a fucked-up idea when I was doing it.”

  Fucked-up.

  He thinks what happened between us is fucked-up.

  I shiver as the cool air in the room swirls around me, realizing how exposed I am. Closing my fingers around the sheet, I yank it up to cover myself.

  I’m an idiot for thinking we could hold reality at bay for just a bit longer.

  I don’t understand why he bothered sticking around this morning. If he’d snuck out at the crack of dawn, I would have gotten the point just the same.

  “Then why did you?” Anguish pounds through me as I force myself to hold his gaze.

  He drops his eyes, staring down at his clenched fists. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. What happened last night shouldn’t have. My control slipped. That’s all.”

  “That’s all,” I echo in disbelief.

  “You have to know that there can never be anything between us.”

  I latch on to his words because the reason for his past treatment of me hinges upon this rationale. “Why do you say that?”

  He remains stubbornly silent.

  My breath wedges in my lungs. More than anything, I need to understand why he acts the way he does.

  He lifts his eyes. Emotion he normally hides behind a mask of indifference churns in them.

  I sit up a little straighter, feeling as though I’m on the cusp of a significant discovery. I want him to let me in. Just a little. I want to understand what’s happening in his head.

  “Because that’s the way it has to be, princess,” he says firmly.

  My heart twists painfully under my breast, because the nickname that usually grates on my nerves sounds like an endearment. In the past, he’s used it as an insult.

  I shake my head and climb from the bed, tightening the sheet. I don’t understand his answer. And since he refuses to elaborate, I have no choice but to push him.

  Roman averts his eyes as I approach him. A muscle ticks in his jaw. He looks edgy, as if he could spring into action any second.

  “Roman,” I whisper, “look at me.”

  I’ve never known him to be a coward.

  When he continues to avoid eye contact, I sink to my knees and raise my hand, cradling his shadowed cheek. “Explain to me why we can’t be together.” I pause, hoping he’ll say something, but he doesn’t. “Does this have anything to do with my father?” I press, grasping at straws. “Is he the reason?”

  His gaze rises and locks on mine. “It has nothing to do with your father.”

  Hope dissolves. Papa would’ve been an easy obstacle to overcome. “Then what is it?” I swallow down the nausea roiling in the pit of my belly as a thought pops into my head and choke out, “Is there someone else?”

  In the time Roman has worked for my father, I’ve never heard anything mentioned about a woman in his life. He could be married with kids for all I know.

  “There’s no one else,” he mutters. “It would be so much easier if that were the case.”

  My tongue darts out to moisten my dry lips. “Then what? I don’t understand.”

  His dark eyes lose all traces of emotion as he stares at me. Through me. He peels my fingers from his face and drops them. “I’ll never be the guy you want me to be. Nor do I have any interest. It’s as simple as that.”

  I wince at the harshness bleeding through his voice.

  He tilts his head to the side and snickers. “Did you think this was the start of something beautiful? That we would ride off into the sunset together?”

  He shakes his head when I don’t reply, an ugly smirk twisting his lips. “Come on, you know better than that,” he says in a patronizing tone.

  I want to argue but can’t think of anything to say.

  Is that what I thought?

  I don’t know.

  Maybe it was. Maybe I still clung to a speck of hope that things would be different between us.

  “Look, do I need to spell it out for you?” Roman snaps. “There is no you and me, princess. There isn’t an us. There never was, and there never will be. We spent a few hours screwing. That’s all it was.” He sneers, his teeth flashing against his olive skin. “I needed a fuck, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He reaches over and strokes the side of my jaw. “Although, I’m not going to lie, the sex was phenomenal. I knew you would be an amazing fuck.”

  Instinct takes over, and I jerk away. My hand slices through the air, the palm connecting with his stubble-roughened cheek. A loud crack rings through the room. Fury bubbles up, and I shake with anger. “Get out!”

  He remains seated, fingering the red mark flaring to life across his cheek.

  “Get out now!” I scream again, blinking back tears. I don’t want him to see me cry. I’ve already let the asshole see too much, and he doesn’t deserve any more.

  Roman rises to his feet, his dark gaze softening. He opens his mouth as if to say something but thinks better of it. His expression hardens, and he nods in acceptance. He strides out of the room without a backward glance.

  The tears burning the backs of my eyelids fall right after the front door closes. Feeling raw and angry with myself, I drop the sheet and head to the bathroom. I reach into the shower and turn the handle all the way to hot so I can scrub every trace of last night from my skin.

  I want to wash away the memories, too, if possible.

  Because I can’t continue living this way.

  I can’t continue lusting after a man who only wants to hurt me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hey, stranger,” Drew says from around the side of my office door. “I stopped by a few times, but you’ve been busy.”

  We haven’t spoken since our date on Saturday. After what happened with Roman, I’ve dreaded running into him again.

  I smile brightly, hoping it doesn’t look as forced and awkward as it feels. “Hey, yourself. This week has been crazy. I’ve had back-to-back meetings scheduled with students almost every day.” I’m aware that he popped in a handful of times because Sherry, our secretary, let me know with a sly grin and a twinkle in her eyes.

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you since Saturday.” He studies me for a moment. “I had a great time. I hope you did, too.”

  “I did, it was a lot of fun.”

  And it had been up until my run-in with Roman. Unfortunately, that incident made me realize that I’m not ready to begin a relationship with Drew. Or anyone else, for that matter. It wouldn’t be fair to start something when my heart isn’t in it.

  His smile broadens, relief shining in his green eyes. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. If you’re free, I was hoping we could get together this weekend. I have concert tickets for Saturday night.”

  My heart plummets. I nibble my lip while contemplating how to handle this. “Drew,” I say carefully, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  Concern colors his expression as he steps into my office and slides onto the seat opposite me. “I’m not trying to be pushy here, Sofia. But I like you, and I thought we clicked over dinner.” He pauses and continues in a lower voice. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way.”

  This is exactly why I’ve been leery about getting romantically involved with a colleague. The last thing I want is to have an uncomfortable working relationship with someone. Drew isn’t a man I can brush off and hope I’ll never run into again. “I had a great time on Saturday. Dinner was fun and the club…” I gulp as unbidden images of Roman flash through my mind.

  Much like ripping off a Band-Aid, I n
eed to let him down as quickly and painlessly as possible. “Look, Drew, you’re an amazing guy. And I enjoyed getting to know you better. But, at this point, I think we’re better off as friends and colleagues.”

  His face slackens. “What?”

  I fidget under the weight of his confused stare and clear my throat. “When I agreed to go out with you, I thought I was ready to move on, but it turns out I’m not. The last thing I want to do is waste your time or lead you on.” Gently, I add, “And that’s what I would be doing if we continued to see one another.”

  He shakes his head and mumbles, “I don’t know what to say.”

  I wince. “Just know that this is my issue, not yours.”

  “Help me understand what happened here, because dinner was amazing. We were laughing and talking and having a great time. We walked over to Covet and danced for a bit, and I thought, the more I’m with this woman, the more I like her. And then,” he shrugs, “your entire demeanor changed. You were distant all of a sudden. Preoccupied. I wasn’t sure if I’d done something wrong.”

  I didn’t realize he’d felt my withdrawal so keenly. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to send you mixed signals. I just…” Unsure of what to say, I fall silent.

  His sandy brows pinch together as he leans closer and rests his forearms on the edge of the desk. “The guy you’re not over, did you see him at Covet?”

  Oh, God.

  Heat floods my cheeks. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “He was there.” It’s the truth, just not all of it. Reaching across the desk, I cover his hand with my own. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  His expression lightens. “Listen, I had a great time. I’m sorry your ex ruined our evening. I wish you would have said something when it happened. We could have gotten out of there and gone somewhere else.” He pauses and adds, “I understand what you’re going through. I was with my ex-girlfriend for two years. At the time, I’d thought we would get married. But it didn’t work out that way. When we broke up, it took a while for me to feel ready to jump into another relationship.”

  Relief sweeps over me. “Thank you, Drew. I appreciate that.”

  He smiles. “It’s not a problem.” He turns his hand over so that his fingers clasp mine. “I won’t lie and say that I’m not disappointed. I am. Saturday was a lot of fun, and I was hoping we were on the same page with starting a relationship.” He shrugs. “But we’re not. And that’s fine. I’m a big boy, and I can handle it.”

  I squeeze his fingers. “I wish things could be different. You’re a great guy, Drew, and I enjoyed getting to know you better.”

  “I can give you more time if you need to sort things out in your head. I haven’t met a lot of women I’ve clicked with right away, but you’re one of them.”

  My brows shoot up. Isn’t he aware of the fan club he has here at Lincoln High? There have to be at least six young female teachers who would be thrilled to have his interest.

  “What?” he asks, looking adorably confused.

  A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I shake my head. “I’m just surprised to hear you say that.”

  “Well, it’s true. I’m interested in connecting with someone on an emotional level. I want a solid foundation of friendship and attraction.” He shrugs. “I really do like you, Sofia.”

  “I like you, too,” I murmur.

  There may not be a spark between us now, but maybe there could be if I work through my feelings for Roman. It seems wrong to not leave the door cracked open.

  Drew smiles. “If there comes a time when you’re ready to try again, just say the word. It’s your move to make.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Releasing my fingers, he stands. “A couple of us are stopping at O’Toole’s after work to grab a beer. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

  Even though we’ve agreed to shelve a romantic relationship for the interim, spending time with Drew in a group setting seems like a good way to continue getting to know him. “I wish I could, but I have a tour scheduled at three o’clock. A family interested in moving to the district wants to check out the school.”

  One side of his mouth curls as his nose crinkles like he just caught a whiff of something rancid. “On a Friday afternoon?”

  The last remnants of tension dissolve as I laugh at his disgusted look. “Yeah, I know, but they’re from out of state, and this was the only time they had available. It probably won’t take more than an hour—”

  “Well, if you’re up to it, swing by O’Toole’s afterward. I’m sure we’ll be there for a while.”

  I turn the offer over in my head. “Maybe I will.”

  His smile grows wider, revealing a row of straight white teeth.

  I almost shake my head while marveling at how he’s taken my rejection in stride. Not many men would. My thoughts veer from the seemingly perfect man in front of me to the one who rejected me with the same shitty excuse of “you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I’d be a fool to let Drew walk away while continuing to pine for a man who isn’t worth my time.

  As he crosses the threshold of my office, I blurt, “I’ll try to stop by after the meeting.”

  He flashes me another bright smile. “Great. Hopefully, I’ll see you around four or so.”

  I nod, proud of myself for taking this much-needed step. Our first date didn’t go exactly as planned, but there’s no reason why we can’t get back on track.

  Roman is my past.

  With some emotional purging on my end, Drew could be my future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hearing footsteps in the outer office, I rise from behind my desk and stick my head out the door. “Mr. Dmitriyev?”

  A man with icy blue eyes studies me with an intensity that sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Yes, I’m Victor Dmitriyev.” He holds out a hand. “And you’re Ms. Bianchi?

  I force a friendly smile and step forward. “Sofia Bianchi. Please, call me Sofia.” I give him a firm shake. “I’m one of the counselors here at Lincoln High School. I’m delighted you were able to squeeze in a tour before heading home tomorrow.”

  His gaze leisurely travels around the office, which is empty since everyone already left for the day. “Thank you for sticking around to meet with me. We’ve been house hunting for most of the day, so this was the only time that worked.”

  His voice has a slight accent that I can’t place. It might be Slavic.

  “It’s no problem at all. Choosing a school district is an important decision. I hope I’ll be able to answer any questions you might have.” I fight the urge to fidget as he continues to stare at me. Something about him makes me feel uncomfortable.

  “I have no doubt that I will come away completely satisfied at the end of our meeting, Ms. Bianchi.” His thin lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It reminds me of Roman and my father’s men, which is really odd.

  I shake off my paranoia, chalking it up to being out of whack after getting kicked to the curb by Roman. “I thought you mentioned that your wife and son would also be accompanying us for the tour. Are we waiting for them to join us?”

  “Yes, well, that was the original plan. But we were all up early this morning. My wife and son are tired after looking at houses all day. They decided to stay back at the hotel. I know what qualities my son is looking for in a school, so that won’t be a problem.”

  I nod since his excuse for their absence is plausible. “All right then, I suppose we should get started.”

  Since it’s just the two of us, I hope this can be wrapped up in about thirty minutes. Drew’s invitation sits in the back of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I want to stop by O’Toole’s for a drink. We had such a great time at dinner, and I want to see if it’s possible to recapture that feeling.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Dmitriyev says, gesturing for me to lead the way with an extended arm.

  We start out on the main level, where the media center, main offic
e, cafeteria, music and art hallway, computer lab, and student lounge are located. I have keys for all the rooms, so we pop in and look around at each one. Along the way, we run into the principal. Like me, Mr. Atherby is working late. The two men shake hands after my introductions. Mr. Atherby makes small talk for a few minutes and excuses himself.

  I’ve given more than a dozen tours of the school during my two years here, so I have my spiel down pat. As we walk through the halls, peeking inside classrooms, I explain which AP classes are offered and where our district and high school rank in the state. I mention the athletic teams and clubs that round out our academic experience.

  I show Mr. Dmitriyev the gym and pool, pointing out the athletic fields. The weird vibe I felt earlier still vibrates beneath the surface, but I push it aside to deliver all the pertinent information he and his family will need to make a well-informed decision.

  “Does the school offer any auto mechanic classes?” he asks.

  “As a matter of fact, we do. All of the technology labs are on the lower level. Would you like to check them out?”

  “Yes, I’d like that. Alex is very interested in working with his hands.” He offers me another cool smile that makes him look like a shark. “Just like his old man.”

  I shiver and try to brush off my discomfort while plastering on a courteous smile. “Of course. Follow me.”

  We head to the closest stairwell that leads to the basement. Without any natural light filtering in, the hallway is gloomy. Art students painted vibrant murals across the long stretch of concrete walls to brighten up the area. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling are activated by a motion sensor and flicker on as we reach the bottom step.

  The auto mech lab sits midway between the two stairwells. I point out the other technology classes we also offer—welding, CNC, and machine shop—as we walk down the corridor. Since his son seems interested in cars, I fill Mr. Dmitriyev in on the credentials of our teaching staff. I also tell him about the agreement the district has with one of the local technical schools that enables students to continue their education after they’ve exhausted our course listings at no cost to the parent.