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These are lessons I’ve learned firsthand.
Kendall shivers in her sleep.
I pull up the blanket to her shoulders and she nestles closer to me. Till she walked back into my life, I hadn’t realized how touch starved I was. I can’t get enough of touching her, running my fingers over her soft skin, through her hair.
A part of me, the part I buried somewhere deep inside, which holds my vulnerabilities and weaknesses, fears that if Kendall were to ever find out how desperately I need her, she’d feel too overwhelmed and just leave.
Even now, despite knowing she loves me and that she’s given herself to me, my brain is still trying to come up with ways to make sure she can never leave. At the same time, I know that if walking away from me would bring her happiness, I wouldn’t stand in her way.
I’m a slave to her whims and it makes me wonder if she knows how much control she wields over me.
I smooth the tangles that I see in her hair, and murmur, “You weren’t supposed to be the one holding all the cards.”
And yet, she is.
A flashing on my screen alerts me to an email and I see the article Lana has sent me.
The Belle of the Ball.
An entire article dedicated to Kendall.
I feel something settle in my chest as I read about how Caleb Starr walked in with a faerie-like creature who wore Anthony Jenkin’s latest creation and was more than just beauty. Wit and charm and brains, Kendall has become quite a topic.
Knowing her, she would be bewildered by discovering that people find her charming and witty.
Grinning, I move downwards, and then see another article attached to this one. Clicking on it, I find my good mood evaporating. Kendall’s status as my PA is being openly discussed and lengthy paragraphs talking about how Kendall managed to raise herself from the position of an assistant to that of someone whom Caleb Starr felt compelled to take to the event of the year. There are questions about the relationship and about how women like Kendall climb the corporate ladder, using their body and their looks, her looks appointed a whole new paragraph which is lengthy in detail but disparaging, claiming her to be less than average looking, picking on her every feature.
My anger grows with each word until I finally throw the tablet aside, overflowing with rage at someone daring to call Kendall anything less than extraordinary; this brave, stubborn girl who is so quick and clever, whose brain is ten times sharper, who is kind and yet clings on to her self-worth, refusing to be trampled upon.
“I don’t have ugly eyebrows.”
I hear Kendall’s offhand comment and I’m taken aback to see that she’s awake, her head in my lap now, as she blinks languidly in my direction, demanding, “What’s wrong with my eyebrows?”
I smooth my thumb over them, my temper fading at the look in her eyes, and I grin. “Apparently they make you look positively deranged. Guess I have a kink now.”
She grumbles in my lap, “That was a shitty piece. Bet you a dollar she had something lodged up in her ass.”
“How long have you been awake for?” I ask, enjoying watching her stretch and then settle back on me as if she belongs on my lap.
She does.
“You woke me up when you started petting me like a cat,” she retorts and then stretching again, she rolls over until she’s on the edge of the bed, and sitting up. “What time is it?”
“Nearing three in the afternoon.”
“I need another shower. And I’m hungry.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “After we eat, we should talk.”
“About what?” I feel myself tensing.
She turns around, pins her hair on top of her head and, grabbing her robe… all while flushing at the way I’m watching her hungrily. “About this. About all of this. What it means, what you want from me.”
“I just want you, Kendall,” I say, simply.
Her eyes soften but her mouth firms and she gives me a small smile that verges on sadness. “Things like this always have consequences, Caleb. I don’t have to be experienced to know that. Do you mind ordering up something light?”
I watch her leave and when the top of her rope gapes from the back, I see a glimpse of her scars.
Consequences, indeed.
