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“Glad to hear. We’re going to spend a lot of time here,” I vow to her.
She twists her delicate neck to look at me over her shoulder. Her hair shines in the sunlight filtering through the windows and kissing her skin. The only reason I stay rooted to the spot is that I need to reassure her I won’t hurt her kids with my violent outbursts. So, instead, I go to start dinner, knowing I must win this woman’s trust before she willingly surrenders herself to me.
“Want something to drink?” I hear her hum in agreement as she looks around.
I decide to open the bottle of wine I picked up in France. This is something Logan and I shared. A taste for adventure and new experiences. He taught me how. Logan showed me there is more to this world than darkness.
In the cupboards, I find glasses and pour us some to indulge with dinner. I want her to try something I’ve discovered traveling, to see the world through her eyes and taste this wine on her lips later.
“Mm. That’s delicious.” She sips the wine, watching me dice the veggies.
“It’s from France vineyards.”
While I cook, she finds the plates and cutlery in the cupboards and sets the table for us two. And then she presses her curves into my back, shackling her hands around my chest. I feel whole. I don’t remember the last time I felt this level of comfort. But she makes me feel complete.
When I pass her a plate of stir fry, I watch Cassandra’s mouth encircle the fork before she takes a seat at the table.
“Do you like to travel? I know you do for work, but do you enjoy it?”
“I always loved it. I guess I have an adventurous spirit that loves to find new things, learn from other cultures.” I chew on my food, watching her soak up every detail. “If I ever decide to steal you away, Mrs. Cade, where shall I take you?”
“To a private island, where there’s no civilization, just the two of us.” Her eyes shine as she wraps her full lips around the fork and my cock strains against my pants, watching her chew.
My chest expands with happiness, having her in my apartment, enjoying the food I made, and sharing a conversation with me. Her cheeks start to glow when she notices me staring.
“I want to apologize for scaring you and Leon. I’ve never intended for any of you to witness that kind of behavior. But Lucas and I . . .” I pause, deciding to relinquish a small piece of the truth. “We grew up fighting, competing. Lucas pushed my buttons, and I responded.”
She grabs her empty glass, and I fill it for her. She swirls the content before touching it to her lips. “You grew up together?” Cassandra watches me with this careful focus, observing my every facial expression, every move. God, I wish to give her everything, and in time I will. Just not yet. Not when we just started to get to know each other.
“We went to the same school,” I clarify.
My gaze lowers to the plate, and my heart squeezes in my chest. Logan’s brothers didn’t like me being this close to their triplet, especially when they weren’t. I was an unwanted burden.
I clasp her hand in mine and look straight into her eyes, calling me like a sea. “I want you and your kids to feel safe with me. I know what it’s like to grow up in a violent environment. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”
“You mean your foster parents?”
I nod, holding my breath.
“And your blood relatives, were they good to you?”
“They haven’t abused me. They made sure I got an education, a roof over my head, clothed me, and helped me open my business.”
But they never loved me.
Logan was the only one I considered my brother. Everyone else watched me like I was a stray cat about to rip their throats out. I can’t blame them. I was feral, and life with them was challenging. Eventually, I learned to control my violent character and take charge of my responses. When you want to be treated with respect, you need to have the self-discipline to achieve it.
“Were you loved?” She hits me with those three words straight in the chest, and deep longing blasts through me. When our gazes meet, the atmosphere electrifies, drawing me to her like a starved animal for connection.
“No.”
She bites her lip, and her eyes well up.
“Do you want to be loved, Mark?”
Something feral and hungry snaps inside of me as if it waited for this very question. The plates clatter as I toss my cutlery on the table and grab her waist, pulling her onto my lap.
“Yes.”
