“Mr Kruse was asking after you again today,” my mother calls from the hall. I haven’t ventured far from my bedroom in the last week, and I’m not likely to open the door for a chat, so she doesn’t attempt to enter. ”What should I tell him? It’s not like you to not visit all week.” I hear her pick up the tray from outside my door. “I wish you wouldn’t waste this food, Tia.” I wonder if there will come a time when she expresses more concern for me rather than the food bill. I doubt it. “Atticus called again yesterday. What am I supposed to tell him?” She huffs as if my bad manners are just the worst thing.
“To go to hell,” I reply loud enough to avoid the need to repeat myself.
“Tia!” I can almost picture the outrage on my mother’s face. She’s probably looking over her shoulder, in case my words are heard by someone who matters.
“Mother, I don’t care what you tell him, or Oskar, and I’ll pay for the wasted food.” She doesn’t reply straight away, but I can hear her shuffling from foot to foot. “I have work to do.”
“You can take some time off from your studies, Tia, and eat.” It’s the first time in forever my mother’s tone actually exhibits concern, and I’m not sure if I find it a comfort or unnerving. It’s so wholly out of character from her default emotion of anger or indifference that I opt for unnerving.
“My scholarship is dependent on straight A’s and it’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane, getting away from this godforsaken place so, no, I can’t take time off my studies,” I state flatly.
“Suit yourself. It’s what you’re good at,” she bites out, and I am comforted that this is much more like her. I know this woman. She stomps down the stairs, the cutlery clinking on the tray with every heavy footstep. Only a moment later, and I hear the back door slam. I let out a huge sigh when I hear the front gate scrape open and close over the gravel drive. She’ll be gone up to the main house, or more likely to the new gamekeeper’s farm; she at least has someone to vent to.
I feel bone-tired, and despite my study schedule, I collapse onto my bed. I tried to call Cass as soon as Oskar had revealed the ugly truth. When I couldn’t reach him, my mind just started to slowly destroy me with what he could be doing, why he lied, why he didn’t tell me. I couldn’t stop thinking that I must mean so little to him to betray me like that.
I just felt too empty to function.
I know some people come out fighting, all vitriol and venom, but I just feel so completely devastated, I barely have the energy to open my eyes each morning. I keep telling myself time will heal, but I know it won’t. He was my everything, and that’s the thing about first loves—they don’t just burn your heart, they brand your soul for all eternity.
I wake to the gentle knock at my door. I lift my pillow to cover my ears and squeeze the soft down tight enough to dull the sound. After a short time there is another knock, then another.
“Go away, Mum, please I don’t want to fight. I just want to be left alone, because actually that’s what I’m really good at.” There’s no answer, just another knock. I swing my legs over the bed and stomp to the door. Swinging it wide, I am hit with a sucker punch to end all punches.
Atticus.
God, he looks good. His icy blond hair looks almost white and is a little longer than normal. His chin is low to his chest, and he’s looking up through his impossibly long lashes, thick strands of his fringe partly obstructing the intensity of the dark scowl. His hand rests on the top of the doorframe, and the position flexes the muscles in his arm. The old rock band t-shirt he’s wearing has ridden up, and I hate that my eyes snap to that muscle on his tummy that seems to make me stupid, more stupid, that is.
“I need to explain,” he states. His face is implacable, and his tone sounds more irritated than contrite, and all the apathy I felt about lashing out vanishes. I am filled with an instant and insurmountable flash of rage that surges through every nerve, travelling from my broken heart to my boot-covered foot. From the perfect distance, I launch my leg high, connecting my Doc Martin boot with his unprotected balls. He crumples to the floor on impact, and a hollow ear-piercing yell fills my tiny house. He falls, curled onto his side, gasping for breath and cupping his hands between his legs. Good!
“You broke my heart, you piece of shit! What’s there to explain?” I would slam the door, too, but he is writhing in agony over the threshold.
“Tia…” He coughs, his voice a pained gravelly whisper. “Call an ambulance.” I scoff at the notion and fold my arms defensively. He may be in pain, but it’s my heart that needs protecting.
“Pussy, I barely made contact.” I sniff out a humourless laugh.
“Please,” he pleads, momentarily pulling his hands away from his crotch. I gasp. They are covered in blood, dripping, and the crotch of his light jeans is a deep crimson and the size of the patch just keeps getting bigger.
“Shit, Cass, what’s wrong?” I drop to my knees, my hand hovering over his curled up body, not sure where to touch.
“Ambulance, please, Tia,” he groans, and I spring to my feet, jump over his body and race down the stairs to the phone in the kitchen, my sweaty fingers flying over the buttons. I make the call and rush back, crouching down next to him, I ask again.
“What’s wrong, Cass? I really didn’t kick you that hard.”
“You busted my stitches. I felt them pop, and I’m about to bleed out. It might be what I deserve, but I don’t want to die before I can explain.” His eyes meet mine, and despite the pain on his face, I can only see regret in his crystal blue eyes.
“I don’t want you to die, period,” I reply, tentatively stroking my fingers through his hair, scared to touch him, terrified of losing him.
I’ve never seen Cass look so pale. There was so much blood, and when he passed out in the ambulance, I very nearly died myself. I certainly didn’t want to live without him. By the time we were discharged, I felt about as wretched as could be. He barely said two words at the hospital, but insisted I stay with him the entire time. Twelve hours later, and I couldn’t be more relieved to be going home, together.
“I’m sorry,” I say for the hundredth time. The taxi pulls away, and Cass takes my hand and leads me back into my house, silently up the stairs and only speaks once the bedroom door is closed and we are seated, facing each other, on my bed. I shift round until I am cross-legged, wringing my hands in my lap; his legs are splayed, and with good reason. Last week he had a baseball injury that nearly left him with just one testicle, but after emergency surgery he was set to make a full recovery, was being the operative word.
“They said it’s going to be fine, Tia. They repaired the stitches, the blood made it look a lot worse, and at the moment, the painkillers are keeping the agony at bay. Well, the agony in my balls. My heart is not faring so well.” We’re holding hands, and he places my palm on his chest. I can feel the strong beat of his heart in my fingertips. I shake my head at the warm feeling that creates in my own chest. It’s all so wrong.
“Your heart, Cass? I’m not the one engaged to another girl. How could you?” My mouth is too dry to shift the lump in my throat. All the moisture in my body seems to be poised right behind my eyelids.
“Let me explain, and then whatever you decide, I will respect. I’ve never lied to you, Tia, and I don’t intend to start now.”
“Omission of facts is lying, Cass.”
“Please, Tia.” He drops his head, and his tone isn’t nearly as confident as it normally is. His eyes are pleading, and he grips my hand just a little too tight. He’s nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him nervous.
“Fine.” I nod, and he lets out a sigh filled with relief. He draws in a slow breath before he starts to speak, and then he says with absolutely certainty.
“I love you, Tia. I think that’s the first thing that needs to be clarified. I want you more than my next breath, and I will have you as my wife, one day.” His lips carve the perfect smile, and I have to force myself to believe anything could possibly be wrong when he looks like that and makes me feel the way he always does—cherished, loved, complete.
“But you—” I interrupt, and he quickly does the same.
“Nah-ah…my turn. You’ve expressed how you feel with your boot. It’s my turn now.” I bite my lips shut and nod. “I am to take over from my uncle as CEO on my twenty-fifth birthday, but there are strings attached. I have some placements to undertake, learn the ropes as it were, and there are some deals I have to secure. Misty is the only daughter of Senator Jameson. I’m not going to bore you with the intricacies of what’s involved politically or financially with this connection, just that in agreeing to an engagement, I am fulfilling my obligations and securing the future of the Kruse Corporation, globally.” He pauses to adjust himself, wincing and drawing in a sharp breath. I take the distraction as an invitation to contribute my own musings on what he just said.
“Bullshit.” I pull my hand from his, and he snatches it back, holding it firmly, and narrowing his eyes with warning. I may be a raging ball of hurt and jealousy, but he does have a very intimidating way about him when he’s mad. I’ve just never been on the receiving end, and I damn well know I’m not this time. He’s mad at himself. I can feel it radiating off him in waves. He kisses my fingertips as if to confirm my thoughts.
“It really isn’t, Tia. However advanced society is, important deals are still made on the strength of family connections and personal relationships. It’s an ugly truth but one that’s kept the very rich very powerful for centuries. I know Grandpa told you his story, and mine is not much different.” He shrugs lightly, and my rush of air escapes in an incredulous hollow laugh.
“Wrong! If you think for one moment I’m going to be your mistress while you play house with Miss-fucking-America, your expensive education has been wasted, because you are one thick idiot.” The bravado in my tone falters when hot tears flow onto my cheek. I can’t wipe them away because he won’t release his hold. My voice catches, and I no longer try and hide my devastation. “I can’t believe you’re choosing to do this, Cass, after everything we’d planned.” Large ugly sobs rip through my chest, and fat tears streak my face. He holds my gaze, his own eyes glassy, but he has a little more control. His hand presses to my cheek, and he catches the tears, smearing my skin dry, only for a split second before it is once more soaked with my heartbreak.
“I’m not choosing this, Tia. I have no choice. I will forfeit my place in the company and much more besides if we don’t do this.” I hear the emphasis on the we, but I fail to see how this is a joint decision when he is already firmly walking this path, with or without me.
“You wouldn’t lose me,” I argue, sucking back the sobs.
“I’m not going to lose you now. I said we, and I meant we. I need you to be on board, or I walk. I just want you to understand what that really means.” He waits until I look up, his gaze searching mine.
I scoff. “I’m not on board, Cass. You’re engaged,”
“In name only, and I promise there will be no wedding. Misty no more wants to marry me than I do her. She’s in love with a musician, but she’s struck the same deal with her family.”
“This is nuts.”
“This is how things work.”
“In the dark ages.”
“In the now ages. We will have a long engagement and once the few deals that are in play are finalised, we call it off. Her parents will be pissed, my mother will be pissed, but Misty and I will both get what we want.” He states this as if it is a done deal. My head is a mess, my heart just misses him, and I can feel it pulling me toward this dark place. It’s all wrong. Still, even my stupid heart needs some assurances.
“You don’t love her,” I mumble. He shakes his head like I’ve said something ridiculous when this whole situation is fucking ridiculous.
“I love you. There’s only ever been you, Tia, always and forever, remember?” His hand spears around my neck, and he pulls me so we are forehead to forehead. His eyes are my undoing, they always are. I don’t fall, I dive into them, and I’m so lost. I know with a sense of doomed inevitability, just like him, I have no choice.
“Heart and soul,” I whisper. His lips press against mine with painful urgency. The tingle I feel whenever he touches me ignites a fiery path of prickles across my skin, and I struggle to breathe. He will be the death of me. He breaks the kiss and waits expectantly, knowing I have more questions.
“Have you had sex with her?” He raises a brow, and I can feel my jaw pulse with tension. My stomach rolls, not from the lack of food for once, but the sick feeling and bad taste this question has left in my mouth.
“No, she has her boyfriend for that, not me.” He tilts his head in preparation for more questions.
“Have you had sex with anyone else?” I clearly don’t know him as well as I thought I did, that I even have to ask this question. His face is a mix of hurt and confusion.
“How could you ask that, Tia? I said I would wait for you, and I never lied.”
“You are engaged to another girl, Cass, and I’ve been legal for over a year. So excuse me if I think having sex with me may not have been a priority, since all evidence points to the fact that it’s not.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment and a little indignant rage.
“Trust me, you are my top priority, and making love with you for the first time is just about all I think of. It’s certainly all I thought about on the flight over. Tia, I know I’m asking too much, but I need you, and I need your understanding. Not everything is as it seems, and I’m risking more than you know just being here now.” His voice drops and the cold, serious tone makes me shiver.
“What do you mean you shouldn’t be here?”
“I’m just not supposed to be here, that’s all.” He tries to dismiss my concern, but I fix him with my unwavering stare. “I just have a lot going on in the States, and since you wouldn’t take my calls, and Grandpa decided to share before I could tell you myself, I had no choice but to come. I had to clear the air…is it clear, Tia?”
“I don’t know, Cass. I don’t know what to believe,” I answer honestly.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” It’s always the same instant response; regardless of how confused I am right now, that is a constant.
“Then that’s all that matters.” He holds my gaze, and I see the truth in his eyes. He holds the contact for long seconds until he is satisfied I believe him, and I do. I hope that doesn’t make me a fool. I swear it will be more than his balls he needs to worry about if it does.
“You’ve really not had sex? You must be the only twenty-year-old in college that hasn’t!” I sniff and let out a snicker that lifts the solemn intensity of the air weighing us both down.
“It has been mentioned.” He barks out a deep laugh. “However, when I show pictures of you to those taking the piss, waiting is a no-brainer. And if you hadn’t kicked me in the balls, trust me, we wouldn’t be waiting one second more.” He quirks a sad smile, and years and years of pent-up sexual frustration, temptation, and Atticus’s imposed celibacy all turn around and bite me in my own arse. My damn foot.
“Oh, no!” My eyes dart to the heavily padded crotch of his blood soaked jeans and I just want to cry. “No, really?” It’s a stupid question. Of course, really. He’s in agony, and the last thing I want is our first time to be the stuff of nightmares.
“Yeah.” His tone mirrors my own regret.
“Maybe you’ll be better in a day or two?” I offer up some hope, but he shoots me down.
“Not going to help much. I have to leave tomorrow.”
“No, Cass, please,” I plead, and his face is the picture of remorse.
“I’m sorry, Tia, I can’t stay.”
“It’s my last exam on Friday. I’m actually going out with others to celebrate. Can’t you just stay until then?” I’m desperate to find a loophole, even if I can see in his face it’s futile.
“If I could, princess, you know I would.” He kisses my forehead, pressing his lips hard as if trying to brand my skin, savour my touch as much I need to do the same.
“This is so fucking hard, Cass, I hate the way I feel when you’re not here.” I bite my lip to stop it wobbling, and lower the pressure of the tears prickling behind my nose
“How about the way you feel when I am here.” He shifts to his side and lies down on my bed, his feet dangling over the edge, and his large frame filling the single space. He pulls on my arm to lie beside him, and he turns to face me. His eyes pierce right through me, and I can feel myself burning up from the inside at the way his gaze is slowly devouring every part of my body.
“I don’t remember that. It’s been so long.” The words are a barely audible whisper. His wicked smile is evidence enough he knows what he is doing to me. He draws in a deep breath through his nose. He can smell what he’s doing to me, and too late I squeeze my legs together to quell the ache. Oh, god.
“Then let me remind you.”