14. Declan
Chapter fourteen
Declan
I didn't wake Serenity for our run the next day. I figured she'd been through enough last night and could use the rest. She'd come to me again, still unable to sleep, and while sleeping in the same bed as my greatest temptation wasn't exactly fun, I liked when she finally fell asleep. I swear the entire bed shifted when her body finally gave in, and she relaxed.
I, however, couldn't sleep a Goddamn wink. Last night had me spiraling. When I saw that greasy man's hand on her I saw red. My baser instincts kicked in. Someone was trying to take her from me, and I couldn't allow that. I don't regret hitting that man, and I don't regret taking the punch, but what happened in my office threw me.
I was spiraling, angry on adrenaline, ready to keep fighting - to fight everyone who thought they could take her from me. And then she yelled at me. It's not the yelling that stopped my spiral. It was what she said. How such a beautiful, innocent, wonderful creature could think she isn't worth anything pulled the rug out from under my tirade. She'd told me about her parents and her upbringing, but it never occurred to me that that would have affected her self-worth - her self-esteem.
But of course it would. If your own mother only sees you as a meal ticket, how could you see yourself as anything more?
And then she touched me.
I have never been touched like that before. She touched me with reverence, as if I was something special to touch. It wasn't sexual, it wasn't sensual. It wasn't a caress of someone who wanted something out of me. It was worshipful. And I'm addicted.
Even before The Envelope, I've never been worshiped. Loved, appreciated, wanted, sure. Cherished? Worshiped? Hell no.
I spent most of the evening in my office, spiraling over all these new feelings. Daniel and Harrison would give me shit for it, so I avoided them too.
They want me to lock down the pretty young virgin in my care with a dom/sub contract and relationship. They want me to take her virginity because they know how much I'd love it. And how I'd make it good for her.
But Serenity's different.
She isn't the type of person you bed with a contract. She isn't a one-night-stand or even situationship. If Serenity ever does decide to explore her sexuality, she's the type of woman you give your all to. Between her shitty family, her struggles with her ADHD and anxiety, and her general innocence, she needs one person who can give her everything. I can give her a home and clothes and food. But could I give her everything? No. Absolutely not. Half of my heart died two decades ago. I'd never imagine giving her whatever measly shambles are left.
I won't.
She deserves more.
"Are we running today?" Serenity's sweet voice announces her entrance into my home office. She's in her running gear, but I'd already gone, come back, showered, and was now working.
"I already went."
"You didn't wake me?"
"No. I figured after last night you deserved to sleep in some. Have you eaten?"
"Yes. I saw the plate Magda left me."
"Good."
She shifts her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, picking at her nails again. I've noticed her do it a few times - the first night with Volkov, last night after the attack. It must be her nervous tick. One I plan on addressing.
"Yes?"
"Sir, I..."
I shift in my seat, adjusting my suddenly tight slacks.
"What do I do?"
"What do you do?"
"Yes. Like...I need to be productive, active. Put me to work, please? Give me something to do?"
We have been talking about hiring an admin.
"Go get your laptop. Have you set it up yet?"
"No. I've...I've never had one. I'm afraid I'll break it somehow."
"Go get it. We'll set it up together."
With a quick smile, she darts from my doorway, and I listen as bare feet patter up the stairs, and down the hallway to her room before pattering back to me. It's a sound I find strangely comforting...soothing. Like this house became just a tiny bit fuller, the way it was always meant to be.
"What do you want to do when you get older? Like, dream career?"
I say, standing, and dragging a chair from in front of the desk to the side. I motion for her to set the laptop down there and take a seat.
"Finances."
That surprises me for some reason.
"Finances?"
"Finances."
I plug in her laptop and get to work click through the set-up sequence, content to leave her future goals well enough alone. Standing this close to her, I get a whiff of her shampoo. Strawberries this time. Last night she came to bed smelling like pine. I guess she's trying them all to see which suits her best. Strawberry doesn't smell bad on her, but it's definitely not her .
"I guess when you grow up without money, money becomes kind of important. Whether you have it or not is the difference between a ham sandwich for dinner or nothing at all. I'd like to understand money more, learn how to make more of it, and make good use of the money that I do earn." Her voice gets smaller. "I'd like to get to a point where I don't have to worry about the lights getting cut off, or if I can eat today."
Her soft confession hits me like a truck. I grew up in a wealthy household, and have done quite well for myself as an adult, obviously. I've never had to worry about the electricity payment or putting food on the table. Growing up with that kind of insecurity is heart wrenching. And when I finally look down into her blue eyes, I see the scared little girl she must have been, growing up. God, she's strong. I know if she stays with me she'll never have to worry about those things again. But she didn't say she wanted to have enough money. She said she wanted to earn it. And I admire that drive in her.
"Have you ever thought about college?"
The Fall semester is starting soon. I wonder if it isn't too late to get her in.
She snorts out sarcastically. "Did you miss the part about not being able to afford to eat? Let alone go to college."
Sarcasm doesn't suit her.
"Did you miss the part where I'm a billionaire? With more money than I could spend in a lifetime?"
That sobers her up. "You can't..." she whispers. Our faces are inches from each other where we're huddled over the laptop.
I turn to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Can't I?"
She looks down at her hands in her lap and picks her cuticle again.
I grab both of her hands in one of mine to stop the self-mutilation. I can't stand the thought of her hurting herself.
"Once we get you set up, take a look at the programs available at Georgetown. Or online universities. I want three different choices by the time we leave for The Envelope. Pros and cons of each, tuition prices and acceptance requirements for the fall."
Wide eyes blink at me, and I know she wants to protest.
I challenge her to argue with me. This is where she'll show me if she's a true submissive, or a brat. There's nothing wrong with brats, but I'm not a brat tamer. I don't have the patience, and I don't find brats cute.
I want someone who will submit to me fully.
I know that shouldn't be Serenity. And maybe that's a good thing. She'll show me she's a brat and it'll kill this growing attraction I have for her.
But her eyes drop sweetly, and she whispers. "Yes, sir."
Fuck.