Lia #2
He starts the car while I sink back into my seat, torn between resentment and regret.
I knew he wouldn’t be thrilled I’d snuck out, but I thought the present would make up for it.
Maybe a part of me also wanted to test the limits of my cage.
Still, I never imagined he’d react in this very unsettling way.
His impassive expression tells me he must be furious. The kind of furious that a hard spanking couldn’t resolve. Which is too bad, because the thought of that suddenly does something to me.
Something one quick glance at him quickly quells. That’s clearly not going to happen tonight.
In fact, none of the things I had daydreamed about seem bound to happen tonight.
I had hoped to surprise him with his present, and Dolores baked him a cake, because I would probably burn the house down if I tried.
She bought balloons and candles, and even offered to be the one to buy the present, and in retrospect, I should have said yes.
But I wanted the thrill of choosing and buying it myself.
The resentment grows, squashing the regret. I should be allowed to walk to town and buy something. The thing I bought was for him, and this is how he reacts! I spent two years waiting for this moment, all for this!
Resentment turns to self-pity, and angry tears bubble up in my eyes.
He glances over at me, and I suddenly find myself hoping they’ll have their usual effect on him. Instead, though, he looks… enraged.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
By the time we reach the house, I’m just as angry as he is. For the first time in two years, I’m fully aware of the bars on my cage. I feel helpless, weak, and most of all, furious that I’ve spent so much time and effort on something, only for him to be pissed off.
Fuck him!
He parks in front of the car, unbuckles Aurora and carries her in on his shoulders, much to her delight.
With her, he’s never anything but kind, no matter how worried, preoccupied or…
angry he is. But when I try to get out to follow them, the door’s locked.
I have to wait, stewing in my anger, for him to return and open the door.
Some might imagine it to be chivalry, but I know what it is.
It’s control. He wants to show me just how much he controls me, and I hate it.
I hate him!
He grips my wrist to pull me out, and tries to keep a hold on it, but I wriggle so hard I manage to get out of it. Hissing out an impatient breath, he slips his arm around my waist, pinning me to him in a hold that I can’t get out of, no matter how hard I struggle.
By the time we reach the front door, I’m angrier than I’ve ever been.
He must not have gone very far in the house when he brought in Aurora, because now, he pauses at the sight of the kitchen through the half-open door, with its flashes of color.
Dolores blew up balloons and hung up a sign I painted: Happy Birthday, Logan! She’s putting the finishing touches to the cake, then turns around and beams.
She’s very different from the grumpy woman who arrived in Washington with us. These past two years, she’s truly become one of the family. Very attached to Aurora, and to me too. She’s been my only female companion, and she’s become a friend more than an employee.
We started to get close when Logan’s long conversations in the bedroom started last year.
She told me all about her life before: how she doesn’t have anyone back home.
She was working for an associate who mistreated her, and once beat her so hard she wound up at the hospital.
When Damien found out, he paid for her medical bills, got her out of the situation, and later on, offered her a place with Logan.
It suits her to be on the run with us. She doesn’t want the mafia to find her; she’s worried she’s learned too much over the years, and her knowledge could put her in danger.
The only reason she protested so much about Washington is that she’s used to being independent, and she resented the way it all went down.
But now she’s happy, she assures me. Happy to be in this quiet place far from civilization, with Aurora and me.
Another person who owes everything to Damien—I guess he can be something other than an asshole when he chooses.
And I know I owe him a lot too. But I’ll never admit that out loud.
Dolores’ smiles dies down when she notices Logan’s expression, and the way he’s gripping my wrist.
“I guess I’ll…” She coughs. “I guess I’ll take Aurora for a walk.”
“Yes,” says Logan, his voice strained. “I think that’s a good idea.”
She walks out of the kitchen, giving me a tight, pitying smile, then finds Aurora and walks out the back.
I just hear Aurora chirp, “But papa’s surprise…” before the back door closes behind them.
Then Logan faces me. But before he can get a word out, I storm, “Fuck you, asshole! Asshole! I hate you! I did this for you! Asshole!”
I had a whole lot of things I wanted to say, but insults are all I can manage as he leans back against the counter, watching me without an ounce of emotion.
At last I run out of insults, so I cross my arms and stare at him moodily.
“You’re finished?” he asks, his voice cold.
“No—yes. I guess. So what’re you going to do now, beat the shit out of me? Beat the shit out of me for remembering your fucking birthday?”
“I’m not Carmelo,” he says quietly.
“Okay, then, whatever you’re going to do, fucking do it! Get it the fuck over with! I’m sick of you staring at me like that!”
My voice catches in my throat, and moments later, I’m sobbing. Fuck! Right now, I hate that my tears turn him on. I hate that he views them as silly and childish, instead of proof that I’m suffering. Because of him.
I’m crying hard, so hard that I sink to my knees, my stomach hurting, and I clutch at it, hating that I can’t get a hold of my emotions. I’ve never experienced anything like this. I’m struggling to catch my breath. Fuck, what’s happening?
“Lia…”
“Stop! Leave me alone! Go away!”
There’s the rustle of fabric, and I cry even harder, assuming he’s done just that.
But that’s what I wanted, isn’t it? No. My body craves his touch, he’s the only one who could comfort me, and I hate myself for needing that.
For needing my captor to soothe the pain I feel at being held captive… by him.
“Lia.”
I jump, hearing his voice right beside me, then feeling his arms around me. He sits down on the floor beside me, pulling me into his lap.
“Shhh, Lia. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not! Let me go! I hate you!”
I say those last words again and again, but all he does is hold me harder, and at last I sink into his chest, my loud, body-racking sobs quieting into soft whimpers.
“Thank you for the surprise,” he murmurs.