Rowan
The wooden stairs creak under my weight as I make my way down to the lower level of the cabin where Sophia and Laila are staying. The scent of pine and the crackle of the fireplace mingle with the crisp mountain air seeping through the windows. I love this place– isolated, serene, a perfect escape from the craziness in Chicago.
As I descend, I hear soft laughter between them. Despite what Grayson says about Laila, I find her presence to be calming, a stark contrast to Grayson’s aggressive nature. I reach the bottom of the stairs and take in the cozy scene.
“Hey ,” Laila calls, setting down a glass of white wine. “Come join me. It’s way too quiet down here.” Sophia looks like she’s going to crash once she finishes that first glass of wine. I can’t imagine how she must be feeling right now. I’ve always sucked at comforting people through grief or hard times, so I just shut my mouth and listen now.
I smile back at her. “You know I can’t resist a glass of moscato.” I tease, plopping down next to her on the brown suede couch .
She laughs nudging me with her shoulder. “Good because I need some girl talk without Grayson barking at me.” She says, rolling her eyes.
“Well I’ll give you girls some time. I’m going to rest for a few hours.” Sophia heads into the back bedroom and there’s a moment of comfortable silence as Laila and I stare into the fireplace.
“So,” Laila says, breaking the silence, “how are things going with you and my brother?”
I hesitate for a moment, not knowing how to respond. I’m surprised that’s the first thing on her mind after everything, though people tend to never say what they’re actually thinking. “Intense is the only way I can describe it. A lot of changes in such a short period of time that’s all I can say.” I admit.
She studies me for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. “, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I reply.
“How do you really feel about Grayson?” She asks, her eyes searching mine. “I mean it’s obvious there’s something between you two but you didn’t choose to marry him, you were forced to, yet you guys seem comfortable around each other.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her question. “Truth is Laila, I’ve grown to care a lot about him through all of this. He’s– complicated, but so am I. Things like this aren’t so black and white– there’s a lot to it, you know?”
Laila nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “I knew you weren’t the type to over explain your feelings. I like it, that tells me you’re not a people pleaser. He cares about you.”
I shrug. “He definitely cares enough to save me from being killed. I have to give him credit for that.”
She stills for a moment. “No, I mean he likes you. He’s never brought anyone to cook Sunday dinner with Ma and I and he talks about you like you’re the Queen of England. It's like you brought out a different side of him– and that says a lot for a man that runs a criminal empire. It’s rare you see him care about anyone besides his family.” I feel my heart flutter at her words, but it doesn’t change how things happened. I can’t fall in love with a man that kidnapped me and put me in the middle of his dangerous life.
“Really? It’s nice to know I guess, but he’s still my captor at the end of the day, Laila.” I say, shrugging it off .
“How you feel about the circumstance doesn’t have to be the same as how you feel about Grayson. Maybe it’s something to think about.” She says, smiling softly. I don’t know how I feel about Grayson, I know it’s a different feeling and that’s all I know.
“Oh no, am I walking in on you stealing my girl?” Grayson teases as he makes his way down the staircase.
“Just in time, I was about to pretend to yawn and put my arm around her.” Laila says with a sly smile.
“That was fast, I figured you’d sleep longer after the drive.” I turn to look at Grayson. I can’t pull my eyes from where his dark gray sweatpants hang just below his lower abdomen. My eyes land on the tattoo he has above his pelvis of what looks like an eagle killing a snake.
“I can sleep when I’m dead.” He says, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
“Well I’m going to go take a power nap, think about what I said, .” Laila says, springing off the couch and walking to her room.
“What was that about?” Grayson furrowed his brow .
“Just some book she was reading, she recommended it to me.” I say, pulling my gaze from him.
“Well that’s a lie because Laila doesn’t read. What was she talking to you about?” Grayson joins me on the couch wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Thanks Laila.
“Nothing– she just didn’t want me to worry about everything that’s going on, that’s all.”
He sits silently for a moment, fiddling with the drawstring on his sweatpants.
“Why did you stop speaking to your father when you turned eighteen?” He asks, avoiding eye contact.
“I told you already. I didn’t want to be caught up in his shady lifestyle.” I look down at my hands feeling uncomfortable with the subject.
“No I know that part– but why didn’t you keep in contact? I mean it’s one thing to move just to get away from it but you completely cut ties with him. Why?” I hate being asked questions about my dad. It brings up too many unsettled emotions.
“There is an answer to that but I’d need another glass of wine.” I laugh, trying to lighten the conversation .
“,” he searches my eyes, “what are you not telling me?”
“It’s complicated, okay? Not something I care to talk about in the middle of the day. Someone like you can’t understand because your family is close.” I snap. Why does he need to know so bad? I’m not going to spill my guts to him about things that don’t matter.
The soft patter of rain begins tapping the windows of the cabin. The gentle sound quickly intensifies turning into a steady downpour. “We have to shut the windows, I guess we have no time to talk about it.” I say, rising from the couch to the windows, closing them one by one. I return to the couch, settling beside Grayson.
“So what’s your favorite movie?” I attempt to change the subject.
“.”
“What, Grayson?” I snap, sharper than I intended.
“I’m not trying to push you, but all I want is for you to talk to me. You keep acting like we’re still strangers and we’re not.” He says tensely .
“It’s in the past, Grayson.” I stand abruptly. Grayson rises from the couch, and takes a step behind me, clasping my wrist in his hand.
“I’m just trying to understand you.” He says, gently pulling me into his chest.
“I don’t want you to understand.” I choke as tears begin to fill my eyes. He sits back on the couch pulling me into his lap.
“If you talk to me I’ll never bring it up again, I promise.”
“You really want to know?” I pull away, searching his eyes.
“Yes, Row.” He says, barely above a whisper.
I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling trying to compose myself. “My dads been an alcoholic ever since I can remember. He used to be happy and fun when he got drunk but that kind of– shifted, when I was about nine years old.”
“Shifted how?” He gently probes.
“Well– there was this one day, I forgot to take chicken out of the freezer so that I could cook dinner for him after work– he said cooking was my moms job and ever since she had left, it became my job. Anyway, it was too late to defrost it because he was going to be home soon, so I put a frozen pizza in the oven instead. He got home and I told him that I’d forgotten and that we were having the pizza for dinner. He punched me square in the face. He had never hit me before until then. Long story short– that was just the start of the next nine or ten years of daily beatings, after the first year I kind of just– stopped feeling it.” I sigh. “That first day when he hit me I accidentally fell into the china cabinet and the glass on the door broke.” I sweep my hair to the side and show him the scar on the nape of my neck. “He took a piece of the broken glass and cut me with it. Needless to say I always remembered to take the chicken out of the freezer after that.” I let out a dry laugh, trying to act like it didn’t phase me, but when I turn to look at Grayson, I see the rage in his eyes. His jaw clenches and he just stares at me for a moment. His eyes soften when he realizes that he’s staring at me, and he brushes my hair over my shoulder, gently pressing his lips to the scar.
“You’re an angel, , and no one will ever hurt you again.” He whispers against my skin. A jolt of electricity shoots through me at the feeling of his lips brushing my neck.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I whisper, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
He lifts me over him and I straddle his lap. Every part of me just wants to forget this conversation and feel his lips wash away every word spoken from them. He gently grips the back of my hair, pulling my head back and slowly trails kisses up my neck. Chills wash over me at the feeling and my nipples harden through my thin white, oversized T-shirt. He snakes his arm under my thigh and pulls his head back from my neck.
“Let me change the subject then.” He growls.
In one swift movement he lifts me onto his shoulders, slips my panties to the side and presses his tongue inside my pussy. I steady myself, gripping the back of the couch for support. He thrusts his tongue deeper inside of me and before I can scream he clasps his tattooed hand over my mouth, muffling it. I inhale deeply, his earthy scent of bergamot and patchouli sending a wave of heat through my core. He grips my hips, dropping my back to the couch with his tongue still plunged inside of me and lightly traces a hand up my body. I grip his hair as his rough palm grazes my nipple and he kneads my breast while picking up the speed between my legs. My back arches and I let out a soft scream as I tip over the edge and feel my arousal pool between my thighs. He sits up while I lay still on the couch for a moment, the room filled with nothing but the sound of the rain and our heavy breaths.
“How did talking about my past turn into this?” I say, breaking the silence .
“You wanted to stop thinking about it and from what I’ve seen so far, letting me get you off is your favorite way to cope.” He chuckles dryly.
“No it’s not– I’m not coping with anything.” I say, suddenly feeling exposed.
“It’s okay, Row. You’re dealing with some shit and you crave intimacy, it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” He says casually.
“Well thanks for the session Doctor Phil but I’m not going through anything and I definitely do not crave intimacy especially with you.” I snap, springing off of the couch and trampling up the creaky wooden stairs. I wish I could just run away from here. From him. He makes me feel too much and I’m embarrassed that I told him about my childhood. I’m even more embarrassed that I let him go down on me right after. He thinks he found my weak spot now and it’s all just a game to him.