“You said you wanted to see her, so we’re going.” He hands me my suitcase to pack, but I put it back down on the bed moodily.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I pout, trying to avoid his gaze as I sit on the edge of the bed and pull at my hair. I’m emotional again, and I’ve no idea why. This was my decision, and yet, now that he’s making good on my decision, I’ve changed my mind.
“Look, Emma, I know things with her are messy, but I don’t want you waking up one day and regretting this. Go, talk. Just do it.” He picks up my case and flips it open, pulling my fingers out of my hair as he passes me on his way to the closet. He pulls out some of my casual clothes and begins tossing them toward the suitcase.
What is this obsession he has with packing for me?
“Why do you care if I see her or not?” I snap, irritated by his pushiness.
We’ve had a week of lazing around and lots of bedtime play, and suddenly, he wants to vacate the apartment and take me to Chicago.
“Because I love you, he replies, “And I want what’s best for you. I happen to think this is going to help. You need to talk to her.” He walks over with a pile of clothes and dumps them onto my lap, so I’ve no choice but to take them. He leans down, tugs on my chin to pull my lip free of my teeth, and replaces them with a chaste kiss, ruffling my hair as though I’m a child.
“You’re a bossy asshole,” I pout, glaring at him as he grins.
He stops and looks down at me in a very manly manner, his shoulders relaxed and his hands slipping to his back pockets. “Baby, you haven’t seen the full extent of my bossy asshole-ness; I don’t think you should tempt fate.” Our eyes meet and lock with simmering, stubborn fire on fire.
“Fine!” I finally break, not in the mood for a head-to-head when I feel so fragile. “But I’m not staying in that house.” I glance away from him.
“I’ve already booked us into a hotel nearby, Bambina. Close enough to walk to your mom’s if that’s what you want. Look, we don’t need to stay for the whole weekend. Just go and see her once.” He bends to kiss me, his green eyes distracting, and I surrender, letting his mouth capture me and push me back onto the bed slowly. He slides over me, his heavy torso pinning me to the bed. “Just don’t fight with me over this; can we just get ready and go and argue on the plane?” He kisses me again slowly and teasingly before getting back up, satisfied that he’s silenced me for now.
“You need to stop using your ‘sexpertise’ to get your own way!” I pout up at him from the bed, my body still tingling from his touch.
“With you, it’s my only weapon; you’re infuriatingly stubborn and strong-minded, baby. I’ve never known a woman like you.” He grins at me before padding off barefoot across the plush carpet of our room to the closet, drags his case out, and starts filling it with clothes.
“Well, you better hope I don’t get as good as you,” I smile wickedly, “Or else you will have zero chance of bending my will.” I lift my chin with a defiant smile, watching as he straightens and turns.
“Baby, your ‘sexpertise’ is already beyond my capabilities. You’ve no idea how crazy you make me.” He winks and leans down to scoop shoes from the bottom shelves, his sexy ass tight and alluring as he bends over in tight blue jeans. My body reacts, and I press my knees together.
Okay, my horny levels over the last few days have certainly peaked. Even for us, I have been insatiable. What’s up with that?
I watch him for a moment, biting my lower lip and squirming on the bed. The downside to a super-hot boyfriend, I guess, is the inability to think about anything other than sex, even when I’m in mid-conversation and mid-argument about a trip home.
“Jake?” I purr seductively, my eyes almost attached to his ass now. He stands up and glances over, his face breaking into a wide smile, his eyes instantly changing to dark.
“I guess the plane could wait an extra half hour.” He strides over to me. “The upside to owning it, I guess.” Sliding onto the bed, he catches my mouth with his in an effortless sweeping motion, his hand coming up under my dress to find me already willing.
* * *
Chicago is cold when we get out of the car. I scan around the familiar street and close my eyes, taking a steadying breath. Jake’s hand comes over my shoulder, giving me the extra strength I need.
“You okay, Bambina? he asks, bringing his face to my ear and kissing me lightly.
“Yes,” I smile up at him, inner peace washing over me at his touch, and I lead the way to my mother’s apartment. The street is dull and gray, matching my mood. We enter the building and make our way up the concrete stairs. The place stinks of urine, and the corners of the stairs are littered with condom wrappers, dried leaves, papers, and broken needles. I pick my steps carefully, angry that this place seems to fall into more disrepair the longer it stands.
Jake puts his hand on my ass, holding me from behind to guide me. I smile at his choice of grabbing place, already knowing, without looking back, that he’s grinning. It lightens my mood, and as we finally round the corner into the hall leading to my mother’s door, I take a deep heavy breath. His hand slides up my back to rest on my shoulder.
“It’s going to be fine,” he whispers, “I’m right here.” He leans past me and knocks on my mother’s door confidently. We barely have to wait as she yanks the door open, the waft of baked cakes and perfume hitting us in the face with an almost alarming force.
She’s certainly gone all out!
She’s tried a little too hard for this visit. Her long gypsy-style dress in rainbow colors is on over silver sandals, and, for once, her hair is down, gleaming in all its tawniness, and brushed into long, loose, shining waves. I can see why men flock to my mother; she's still beautiful with her delicate face and calm blue eyes. She smiles, leading us in with a flow of idle chatter.
“Seeing her minus bruises, I can see the resemblance,” Jake whispers in my ear, and I frown up at him.
I’ve never seen the resemblance with my mother apart from the color of my hair, maybe the same pouted lips and eye color. But my mother is beautiful, whereas I’m just average.
“My mother got the looks, but I inherited all the brains,” I whisper back as my mother swans off to fill the coffee pot while still gushing and chattering animatedly about our arrival.
“Bambina,” he whispers back, “You got the beauty too. More than your mother did.” He leans down and quickly kisses me on the mouth before moving off to accept the serving dishes she’s holding out to us. I can’t help but smile at his back, a warm feeling washing over me because I know he isn’t one to make empty compliments. Jake really does think I’m beautiful.
“Take them to the table,” she grins, nodding toward the living room at the dinette set in the small room. Jake carries the cooked chicken and salad bowl over, already set up with other dishes and plates. Coming out of the tiny kitchen, she walks up to me and lightly kisses me on the cheek.
I stiffen automatically because we don’t do this kind of touchy-feely stuff! Feeling awkward, I reach out and pat her on the shoulder before swiftly moving toward Jake and sliding into the nearest chair, draping my jacket behind me.
“My beautiful daughter is home,” she gushes toward me before choosing the seat facing me and sitting down. Jake sits beside me after putting his leather jacket on the back of his chair. He seems to occupy this space a little too much; it’s always been a small table in a small room, and he looks massive in it. We bang elbows as we both reach for a plate in the center of the table and laugh.
“Ouch,” I say, rubbing my arm. He pulls it up automatically and kisses me where we connected before handing me a plate.
“Sorry, Bambina.” He winks at me, and I catch my mother watching us closely with an oddly serious look. She looks away when our eyes connect and continues dishing out food for us.
Strange.
“I’m really glad you’re here. Both of you.” She smiles without looking up. I hand Jake the salad bowl after dishing my own and watch her. I feel like there is so much to say, yet I don’t have the words at all.
Where would I start? Twenty-six years of pent-up emotions and accusations, yet here we are, acting like my coming home for a weekend with my boyfriend is normal. Not that she’s even asked if that is what he is now instead of my boss. Maybe that’s what that look was all about. Perhaps it’s obvious.
Jake digs into his food. He’s normally a master at idle chit-chat and dominating a conversation. Instead of being his normally chatty self, he’s being quiet, leaving me to take the next step, and for once, I would rather ultra-sociable Carrero would just step in.
“I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying,” I mutter to break the silence.
Maybe it’s best to say it now and not let her think the whole weekend would be ‘catching up.’
I take a forkful of my chicken and watch the frown develop on her face. I try to ignore it.
“Well, even being here for a quick visit is enough for me,” she says. “I do miss you, Emma.” She finally looks up at me and smiles warmly. I grimace back, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. We’re doing what we always do: playing nice and polite in front of other people and pretending there’re no issues.
Being back here, in this apartment, in this town, already I can feel myself closing up, with old Emma mannerisms pushing in, the wall coming up between us, the controlled mask of indifference resurfacing—the one that Jake spent months peeling away. I don’t want to go back to being that person, to who she was, back to being that empty, cold, and feelingless shell of myself, the person who let no one in and never experienced real emotion. That girl is gone.
I was stupid to think I could come here and do the whole heart-to-heart thing with her. Being faced with her acting as though life is so fricking normal reminds me that she will never see my side. She will never take any blame for how I turned out, and why would she? Here I am with my billionaire boyfriend doting over me, dressed in expensive clothes, and living the high life in New York—to her, she’s a success as a mother.
I’m jolted out of my head by Jake’s warm hand on my back, and I glance at him; he’s studying my expression and frowning lightly. I realize I’ve been silently staring at my empty fork, probably with a blank expression, as I mulled things over. My mother is chatting about nothing of importance, unaware that neither of us is listening. Jake strokes my back gently, relaxing his hand when I continue eating, and returns to his food, a silent little message between us that he knows I’m not okay being here. He smiles softly at me, and a small look in his eye tells me he loves me. I inhale slowly and pull it back down with the calmness he gives me, that peaceful place where I spend most of my time.
“So, Mom, how are things at the homeless shelter nowadays?” I interject to try and connect with her, to try and make things less awkward for Jake.
Calling her ‘mom’? Since when?
“Good, really good. I managed to get some funding help, and with the city's volunteers and grant, I have the place ticking over well. We managed to convince some food stores in Chicago to donate the food with expired sell-by dates instead of sending them to the trash.” She grins, obviously proud of herself. She turns her smile on Jake impressively. “And the donation from the Carrero Corporation went toward fixing up the building and redecorating the shared sleeping rooms. Thank you so much for that, Jake.”
He smiles back, but I blink.
What? When the hell did Jake donate anything to my mother’s charity?
I glance at him, questioning with my eyes, and he shrugs. I’m irritated by this little new piece of information, something else he swooped in and solved with a checkbook, something else he didn’t tell me about.
I glare down at my plate and push my food around; I’ve no idea why I feel so touchy lately. My emotions have been up and down for the last few days. I’ve no reason to be mad about this. Really, it’s nothing; Jake’s company donates to charities annually as part of a tax relief move. Of course, he would contribute to hers. She’s my mother, and he loves me. He probably didn’t even write the cheque himself, just forwarded her details to Finance to be added to our list of preferred causes. I know because it used to be my job to do it. I sigh heavily and try to force more food into my mouth, although I have zero appetite. Being here is just making me irrational.
“I’m glad it helped.” He smiles, his eyes on me, but I ignore him.
Finally, fed up with how I’m feeling, I get up, saying, “I’ll make the coffee,” and walk off toward the kitchen without looking at either of them.
I keep my back turned as I lay out cups. I can hear my mother carrying on the conversation about the shelter, but Jake sounds only half interested. His replies are polite, yet he’s not conversing. I glance back and catch him looking at me every few seconds. He’s trying to read me and gauge what’s going on in my head. I look away and close my eyes.
This is fucked-up part of me that he doesn’t see as much in New York—old Emma rules here in Chicago. Her moods are all over the place, her temper short, and the suffocating air of this wretched apartment makes her agitated.
I carry the cups over and put them down in front of them, returning for my own before I finally sit back down. I push my uneaten food away, curbing the urge to start tapping my nails on the table. There’s growing energy of restlessness inside me, that familiar pang to run far away from here.
“So, Sophie seems happy, doesn’t she?” My mother points this question at Jake. I bristle at the mention of her name, my protectiveness of her standing to attention. My mother needs to stay out of her life.
“She does, yeah. She is blossoming with the Huntsbergers.” There’s obvious affection in his voice, and just like me, he’s been keeping tabs on her and calls her once a week to check-in.
“Such a lovely girl, such a sad past. She deserved better,” my mother sighs innocently. I stare up at her in complete shock. With a snort of disbelief, I choke on my coffee and begin coughing badly as Jake tries to console me with pats on my back and circular rubs. Finally, I clear my lungs and gasp for air.
“You think Sophie deserved better?” I ask, my voice holding a slight hint of disdain.
“Of course I do.” She blinks back at me with wide innocent eyes as though she has no idea. “Such a horrible life for a young girl … being sexually abused by her father is just awful.” She shakes her head with disgust as though she can’t comprehend it.
“So, because it was her father, it’s wrong? What if he’d just been her mom’s boyfriend?” I ask, sarcasm oozing. Argumentative teen Emma is aching to be let loose; ever since the angry sex a week ago, she has been showing herself in subtle ways that Jake doesn’t seem to mind at all. My inner rational voice jumps to the front and tells me to let it go, but my piqued anger ignores it. Jake shifts awkwardly in the chair next to me, his hand stilling on his coffee mug as he waits for a response; he’s letting me act out because he thinks I need this. I can’t look at him.
“Darling, what a silly question. Any man touching Sophie that way is wrong.” She smiles toward Jake as if trying to excuse my weirdness, but my rage kicks in stupendously. This is just typical of her in every way.
“It’s just not wrong when it’s me, though … right?” I snap, gritting my teeth and lifting my glare toward her with full fiery fury. She blinks, lays her mug down very carefully, and locks eyes on me steadily. This is how she used to deal with me as a teen, this cool and calm control she had over me.
“I don’t know what has come over you, Emma, but I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having in front of Jake.” She grits her teeth, her blue eyes icing over. If I ever wondered where I got the ability to bring up that icy wall and shut Jake down with a look, I see it reflected in me now.
“Scared Jake will find out something less than favorable, Mother?” I laugh at her, sounding a tad manic, and notice he still hasn’t moved his cup. “He already knows … I told him everything,” I smirk, shoving myself away from the table and walking off toward the counter to put space between us. My anger is growing, and I don’t want to lash out in front of Jake. Beyond that night of angry sex, he’s never seen psychotic Emma in completely crazed mode. I don’t think I ever want him to know that part of me. He would leave.
“There is nothing to tell, Emma … just the exaggerated versions of a child’s memory, nothing more.” She dismisses me so easily that it physically wounds me, a pain slashing across my chest so suddenly it knocks my breath away.
“What the fuck?” I spin, yelling at her. “Is that how you justify it to yourself? That I just imagined it?” My pain can’t conceal itself. “Or is it that you think I asked for it, Mother? That I seduced Ray?” I swipe my arm across the counter in my rage, sending crockery flying and smashing to the floor. Jake’s on his feet instantly, reaching me in two strides. He pulls me to him and tries to reign me in a little as tears fill my eyes. I push him away and turn on her again, putting myself in front of him so I can face her.
“Why do you always do this?” I yell, but she continues to sit with her eyes facing forward on the wall across from her, her expression blank as though her child is just having a tantrum. “You always make me feel this way! You always act this way whenever I try to broach this subject.” It’s all ripping loose from inside me, teen Emma not caring if Jake sees her in all her ugly fury. Jake tries to haul me to him, to embrace me, but I fight him off. I need to get this out. I need more of a reaction than this same bullshit I get every time I find the courage to face her.
“This is why I left … why I ran. This is why I don’t come back,” I cry in desperation. Jake stands behind me, his hands on my upper arms, trying to support me; he stays silent, but feeling him close helps me find courage. “You can never admit what you let happen to me, can you? You can never acknowledge that I’m a fucking mess because of you. You’ve no idea the shit that goes on inside my head every second of every day because of you!” I yell at her, the pain in my voice raw as tears pour down my skin pathetically.
I’ve never felt so close to hysteria in my life. I’m an unraveling mess of a child who can never understand why her mother doesn’t love her enough. She stays sitting and doesn’t move one single inch, focusing on the wall. Jake’s grip has become reassuringly tight, his strength keeping me up.
“Look at me!” I demand, but she doesn’t. She picks up her mug and takes a long, slow drink until I almost break, my resolve crumbling as tears begin to pour. “What did I do to ever deserve any of that? Any of this? I was your only child, Mom. I was your baby. Why didn’t you protect me?” My voice is oozing absolute heartbreak.
Jake’s arms come around me, and I don’t fight him this time. He pulls me under his chin, turns me into his chest, and holds me close. I hear his heart beating a little more rapidly than normal. I dissolve, so much heart-wrenching pain and tears pouring out of me. Jake has seen who I am, yet he’s not letting me go; he’s holding me closer than before.
“Jocelyn, for the love of God, if you don’t acknowledge her and what she’s saying to you, I think I’ll be the one to fucking lose my shit here.” His deep gravelly voice holds so much anger, yet it’s steady and strong. It snaps me out of my misery, and I turn my head to look at her. His words make her snap her attention to us. She’s so good at always blocking me out, but add a dominant male with an edge to his tone, and she’s all ears.
You’re pathetic.
“You believe the things she says about me?” she whimpers like a child, switching on doe eyes and blinking at him expertly. I have seen this face a million times; it’s her victim act, and she is damned good at it. It wounds me to the core.
“Emma has never lied to me, and I know she never will. I met Ray Vanquis; I beat the shit out of him and would do it to every guy you ever let touch her.” The malice in his voice wipes away her expression instantly. Gulping back unsurely, she slowly stands.
“I think you should both leave. I’ve nothing else to say.” Her expression may look unaffected, but her voice wobbles and her hands tremble as she crosses them across her waist in such a PA Emma way.
“Emma deserves so much more of a mother than you,” he growls, his temper let loose, the vibration of rage rippling through his body. “Your daughter is scarred to hell because of the shit you let her endure. Everything she became was a coping mechanism to blank it all out. You’ve no idea how far she’s come, what she’s gone through. Yet you stand here like she means nothing. That her pain means nothing. You make me fucking sick … as a mother … as a human being.” Jake wraps me in his arms more forcefully, trying to blot out the pain for me. “I made her come. This was a mistake; I see that now, and it won’t be one I’ll be making again,” he snaps and pulls me toward the table, lifting our coats but keeping one arm around me, my champion. With every word, he’s pulling me back from desperation. He finally turns to her, “There is so much that she had to say to you, but I see now why she never could. I finally see why Emma spent her life so closed in and keeping people at arm’s length, even me. You taught her that she wasn’t worth anything, wasn’t worthy of love, only of being abused. You taught her that letting people get close only left her open to being hurt. That men would only hurt her, and no one but herself would protect her.” Jake takes a deep breath. “When I marry her, I don’t want you there. You will jade it,” he snarls and turns, pulling me toward the door without a backward glance.
I have never heard or seen Jake this way, especially not with a woman, the fairer sex. His body bristling with anger, he guides me out of the apartment and into the hall, my tears still falling silently. I’ve lost all ability to do anything except be pulled around by him like a child. I watch him as he tugs my coat around me, his eyes flashing and sizzling. He bites his lip to curb his temper, his jaw tense and stiff with so much aggression brimming in his muscles. He sighs dramatically before leading me out into the Chicago air and back to the car he’s hired.
“We’re going home,” he says as he pulls the door open for me, deposits me inside, and clips my seat belt as though I am a child. He leans down and plants a soft kiss on my tear-damp lips, wiping my face with the back of his fingers before closing me in. Walking around, pulling on his jacket, he slides into his seat and slams the door. Starting the car, he thuds his hand on the wheel, making me jump. His jaw tensed, fingers bunching into fists. He finally relaxes and turns to me.
“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t know it would turn out this way. I finally get it … completely … the parts I could never understand. You learned all that closed-in bullshit from her, you know, the icy demeanor and inability to talk. I know you probably don’t want to hear that. You probably don’t even see it.” He sighs and leans toward me, his hand capturing my face and pulling me to him. “I’ll never make you come here again. I’ll never question anything about your relationship with her. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the fucking problem, the reason you couldn’t trust anyone. The reason you can’t ever talk about the past.” He kisses me a little more firmly, as though he is trying to push his anger out as well as mine.
I relax into his touch, lost in how he opens my lips and feels his way inside, leaving me breathless when we part.
“It isn’t just what those men did, Emma … she’s a huge part of the problem. What she did was far worse and probably had the biggest effect on you, but you don’t even realize it.” He pushes his forehead to mine and finally lets me go.
“Just get me away from here, Jake,” I whisper finally, unable to say anything else about what just happened or to even acknowledge anything he is saying. That part of me that’s so emotionally damaged takes icy control.
“Don’t worry about it, baby … we’re as good as on a plane home. We need to pick up our bags from the hotel, and we can get the hell out of this place.” He thrusts the car into gear and maneuvers out of the parking spot, getting us back to the hotel in mere minutes.
He stops before getting out of the car to call his pilot, telling him to ready his plane for a trip back to New York.
In our room, he pulls me to the bed, hauls me down on top of him, wrapping himself around me like a second skin, and breathes in my hair without saying a word. He stays that way with me for long minutes before finally rolling us onto our sides and bringing his face to mine. I nuzzle close, listening to the steady beat of his heart. My tears dried, and my demeanor calm, but the ache inside me engulfs my body in pain. His body, though, is emanating sheer anger.
“I love you more than anything in the world, Emma. I love you so much that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to protect you. I need you in ways that I never knew were possible, in ways I didn’t think I could ever need anyone. You’re my world.” He pushes his face to mine, raw with emotion. “She isn’t someone you should ever measure your worth up against. You should only consider me and how much I love and need you and measure your worth against that. No one else in the world compares to you, Bambina. You got a shitty deal when it came to parents, yet you turned out like this; you’re perfect. You’re amazing.” He kisses me hard, pouring as much feeling as he can into this single thing, pushing his meaning into me, trying to convince me of my worth.
“Jake,” I whisper breathlessly when he finally releases me. “You’ve no idea how much I need you.” Tears roll down my cheeks as he pulls me back into his arms, crushing me against him to take it all away for me.