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I could stay like this forever, I muse wearily. But I have to face reality at some point, so I pull away. He lets me, but he cups my face in his large palms and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.
I lean into his touch, too tired to fight my attraction to him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He phrases it like a request, but it’s obvious he wants me to. He has a right to know.
But I don’t know what to tell him.
Because something like that has never happened before.
“I don’t understand myself,” I finally say, my voice almost a whisper. I pull away from his touch, feeling its addictive qualities soak into me. “My brothers, they sometimes introduce me to guys they think I should date, but it’s never gone this far. And Fred…” I run my hand over my face, miserable, confused. “He’s never acted that way before.”
“What you said before, just as I entered, explain that.” He’s carefully concealing the cold menace lurking underneath his skin. This time, his question is phrased as an order.
My lips twist in a self-loathing smile, and I bitterly spit out, “Do you know how dirty it feels, how demeaning, to have your brothers bring around guys, then point at me and say, ‘Please date her.’ I feel like a two-bit whore on display.”
Oliver’s teeth bare in response to my confession, and I can’t stop myself from continuing. “I know they love me, but they treat me like property they own. My job, my apartment, my life, none of it seems to matter to them. It didn’t—” Pleadingly, I trying to get him to understand. “It didn’t use to be this bad. It started after I graduated, when Glen started his business. Dad sold his repair shop to help him with the funds, then things started going downhill from there. They’d bring around their rich friends I’d never seen before, then encourage me to go out with them. Initially, I did.”
My hands are clenching and unclenching, a clear sign of my agitation. “I went out with a few once or twice. But they weren’t my type. And then, when it was the same conversation over and over again—I should marry; I should settle down—I moved out.”
Anger and upset a driving force, my words are harsh. “And then I bring home a guy, Sandler. I’d been dating him for a few months. He was sweet. One look at him and my brothers started asking him questions—where he lived, who his parents were, what he did, even how much money he made.”
Still disbelieving their actions, I spit out, “And they chased him off. I was so angry. So hurt.”
Oliver studies my face, his hands now on mine. His mind is working in overdrive, but he doesn’t offer to share his thoughts, nor do I ask him to.
“Does Lucas know?”
I shake my head. “He h
as an idea. But he doesn’t know the entire situation.”
I tug at his hand to get his attention. “This is why I can’t be with you, Oliver. My family is fucked up. And what’s worse is I still love them. I don’t want you to be around that. This job is my ticket to freedom. I can’t screw this up. I can’t afford to get fired. I can’t afford a relationship because I don’t want my family knowing about you.”
Oliver raises a brow, smiling faintly smile. “Well, they know about me now, don’t they?”
9
Oliver
I don’t know why I’d decided to go see Lana just minutes after getting Val to send her that email.
Whatever the reason, I had not been expecting Hanna to be outside wringing her hands, looking uneasy. When I had asked her if she were all right, she told me that two men had shown up to see Lana and the head of HR didn’t look happy.
My instincts had buzzed, and I walked into the room to hear Lana say in a loud voice, “Stop offering me around like the bloody family whore.”
Things had only gone downhill from there.
Now, as I watch the pale-faced woman sitting before me, I’m starting to understand why she’s so insistent on pushing me away. She’s on the phone with her father, rubbing her free hand over her face.
“I don’t know, Dad. Just keep him away from me!”
I’m leaning against the desk, standing next to her. I have the urge to stroke her hair, to do something to offer her some relief, some comfort.
“I don’t care. I could lose my job for this, Dad… That’s your opinion!” Lana lifts her head, her voice a growl now. “All of you just need to give me some space. I can’t deal with any of you. If Fred comes after me, I’m going to call the police. I mean it, Dad.”
Lana cuts the call, then tosses the phone onto the desk. She shoots me an angry scowl now, and it’s obvious she’s chosen anger in favor of misery to hold on to. “He’s defending him! He actually—” She chokes on the last word.
Then, without warning, Lana reaches out and presses the intercom. “Hanna, can you book me a hotel room for the rest of the week?”
