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To him, I’m a toy, a game, a joke. I’m this month’s piece of ass who might not even last the month. I imagine him getting bored and just paying me off early.
When I get what I want, I can leave all of this behind me.
I can leavehimbehind.
Grabbing my bag, I walk into the house. The aroma of something delicious tickles my nose and wakes up my tastebuds.
It’s late, so the staff would already have left for the day. Either Mom or Cal does the cooking when they’re home.
When I get up to the floor where my room is, I see Cal ahead standing by my door, and I nearly freak out as I think he could have gone inside my room.
I quickly mull over what I might have left out on the bed or the desk, hoping against hope I wasn’t that stupid.
Then I see he’s painting my door. He’s painting it the lilac color my door was back in L.A.
The house we lived in wasn’t where my nightmare took place. After it happened, my parents moved. That wasn’t for safety; it was for a fresh start.
I decided I wanted my walls purple, so Dad painted them for me. He did the door, too.
Cal turns to face me when I get closer and gives me a warm smile. He doesn’t smile much when he’s with other people. In fact, I’d be more inclined to believe he can’t.
Usually, although he looks every bit the professional lawyer in a suit, when he’s in his casual clothes—like now—he looks like a regular guy. But a tough guy.
His arms are lined with tattoos that are just the right amount to be covered up with a dress shirt. He also has the kind of muscle you’d see on a Marine.
Dad doesn’t look like that, and they are roughly the same age. Dad is fifty, and Cal is forty-eight.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he states, his voice carrying a hint of his Russian accent. He’s the only person I know who sounds like that. “I thought it would help you feel more at home if your room looked similar to your last.”
I stare back at him, not knowing what to say.
I like it. There’s something reassuring and comforting in the gesture. It makes me drop my guard, and I don’t even feel bad about Chad anymore.
I stare back at him, and I can imagine him going crazy if I told him Chad was blackmailing me in exchange for sexual favors.
It’s my fault that this is happening, but I know he would still stand up for me if I told him.
“Thank you. I… appreciate it.”
His smile widens. “Oh, good. Well, I have a few days off work. If you want, I can do the rest of the room. Just move your stuff around, so I don’t spill paint on anything.”
I would like that. “Thanks, I will.”
“Dinner’s ready, if you want to grab a bite. I made lasagna. There’s more for us because your mom’s going to be working until tomorrow night.”
“Oh. I like lasagna.”
“I know. Are you okay?”
I nod slowly and drop my gaze briefly to my feet. When I return my eyes to him, concern fills his.
“I’m fine.”
“I know it’s weird changing your whole life in a matter of months. I understand. I know it’s weird having me around, too, but I promise I’m not as bad as you think.”
He winks, packs away the paint, then leaves.
As I watch him go. The brat inside who thinks he’s trying to replace her father still wants to hate him, but more and more, I’m finding I can’t.
