“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, let’s just say if I never see another trombone in my life, I’ll be happy. I hated soccer, too. I wanted to play football and basketball and all the full-contact sports, but Mom insisted she wasn’t about to let her only son play such barbaric games.”
“What else were you interested in?”
“I wanted to be a writer, actually,” he replied. “I loved literature and growing up, I dreamed of being the next Mark Twain, or maybe a poet, but Dad said writers didn’t make money these days and insisted I find a more lucrative career.”
“I see,” I replied. “Do you still write?”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “I wrote a few screenplays in college. I have a half-written novel that keeps me up at night sometimes, but I don’t really have time for those things these days. My company takes up a lot of my time and energy.”
“It’s important to find a balance, though, isn’t it?”
“I guess that’s what people say, but I’ve never been much of a balanced individual. I tend to go all-in with everything I do.”
“I see,” I said, feeing a slight blush creep up my neck.
“What else, Chloe?” he asked, smiling at me, his eyes deep as the ocean.
I took a deep breath, the warmth of the wine spreading through me deliciously.
“Where are your parents now?” I asked.
“Dead. Long gone. Dad died of stomach cancer and Mom killed herself a year later.”
“Oh, my god!” I exclaimed. “I had no idea.”
“It’s okay,” he replied. “I don’t talk about it much. It happened my senior year at Yale. I finished school and started my company right away, determined to make it on my own. Sure, I inherited tons of money and I could have just lived off of that, become a writer and hung out on the slopes with Bruce for the rest of my life, but I needed to be in control of something. They’d ruled my life for so long, once they were gone, I was free. It’s hard to explain.”
“I think I understand,” I replied, softly. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m glad they died. Now, I have a life. Now, I make my own decisions. I do whatever I want, when I want, even if I tend to be a little obsessive about it,” he said, his voice lowering to thick, husky growl. “I give the orders now.”
I swallowed hard, nodding solemnly as everything suddenly began to make sense.
“Look,” he continued. “I know I’m not like everyone else. I’m blessed that I had those two as parents. They taught me a lot about what it takes to succeed in life, they instilled a serious work ethic in me. They left me a ton of money that enabled me to start the company on the scale that I needed to. I wouldn’t be who I am without them. But until they were both dead, I had no idea who I was, Chloe. If someone had asked me if I wanted to buy a pair of brown boots or black boots, I would have asked one of my parents first. It wasn’t that I didn’t have opinions, it’s that I didn’t trust the opinions I did have. I was constantly seeking their counsel. I think Mom recognized that in that last year after Dad died. She knew it had gone too far. I think she thought she was doing me a favor by taking all those pills and I have to say that she was right.”
“Bear, that’s…that’s…,” I stumbled for words, shaking my head.
“It is what it is,” he shrugged. “It’s the truth. And the truth is always worth speaking.”
I nodded, my heart swelling with emotion for him.
“So, now you have this company,” I said, wanting him to talk more. I loved the sound of his voice, the deep tones that turned into low growls and murmurs when he turned emotional. I wanted to hear everything he had to say. “And it satisfies you?”
“Does it satisfy me?” he asked, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair as he pondered my question. “It allows me the freedom to find satisfaction in other places, I would say. It’s definitely work. And sometimes, I get off on it. A big deal goes through in my favor. There’s an art to getting your way in business. It’s different from personal relationships. You have to be subtle, you have to convince your opponent you’re on their side, when you’re mostly looking out for your own interests. There’s a sense of betrayal to it that I don’t enjoy at all.”
“No?” I asked, watching the way the muscles twitched in his jaw. Outwardly, he was calm and serene, but the tension in his voice, the way he was gripping his glass, told me a tornado was churning inside of him.
“I don’t like betraying people. At heart, I like to think I’m a good person, Chloe,” he said, his eyes flashing, searching mine, “you know? I hope you can see that. I have my quirks, but I try to be kind, to do the right thing, to help everyone I can. But, when those deals go through, when I manage to persuade someone to work with me and we create something beautiful together, that is satisfying, yes. I get off on that part of it. So that’s why I keep at it. ”
“I get it,” I smiled.
“I could never have a job where I wasn’t the boss,” he nodded firmly.
“You always have to be in charge,” I whispered.
“Yes. Always,” he said. I stared back at him, drowning in his piercing gaze, my body tingling with excitement. There was something so attractive about his unshakable resolve. I’d never been sure of anything in my life. Leading was never something that came naturally to me, and yet I’d envied my friends who did so naturally. Like Marie. Like my Mom.
That wasn’t me.
But the steeliness in Bear’s eyes every time he nodded like that, his jaw set so firm you couldn’t cut it with diamonds—that turned me on. It drew me to him, in a way that I was only beginning to understand myself.
“My life was the complete opposite,” I said. “Complete freedom. Matilda was never there.”
“Your dad?” he asked.
“Left. I guess Matilda and an infant was too much for him and he hasn’t been in my life since I was born,” I said. “The glass ceiling has always been Matilda’s baby. I admire her for it, I do. But it’s hard when you’re the only kid at the dance recital without a parent watching. I learned to take care of myself early on,” I shrugged. “I didn’t need anybody. I was always the one in charge, and I longed for someone to remind me to brush my teeth at night or make me eat broccoli or come to one of my fashion shows.”
He nodded at me silently, staring over at me thoughtfully. I’d have given anything to know what he was thinking, to see what he saw when he looked at me. I wanted to know why. Why me? Why was I here? Why had he picked me to spend all this time with?
“Parents have a way of shaping their children in such an insidious way. The subtle ticks we develop, the eccentricities we take on, the very fabric of our souls are woven by how they treat us. It’s a sacred act to be a parent. To be able to court that kind of power over another human. It’s the ultimate act of oppression, I think. I never want to be that person, the one who could fuck up someone else so profoundly.”
“So you don’t want children?” I asked.
“Never,” he replied, that determination returning to his steely jaw.
“I see,” I nodded. “Me, neither.”
“You don’t want children either?” he exclaimed.
“You sound surprised.”
“It’s just that most girls your age fantasize about that,” he said.
“I’m not most girls,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly. I’d defended my stance on children many times before and it was a sore spot with me. Even Marie wanted children someday. She always said as soon as she was done being a slut, she was going to settle down and have a gaggle of kids. The idea sounded exhausting to me.
“No, you aren’t are you?” Bear said, reaching over and putting his hand on my knee. He hadn’t touched me throughout dinner and the sudden contact shot daggers of electricity up my thigh. My pussy twitched as a shudder began in my neck and traveled down my back. I took a deep breath, struggling to retain my composure. It was merely a slight touch a
nd I was melting. I’d barely had half a glass of wine and I felt dizzy already.
Maybe it wasn’t the wine that was shaking me up after all, I thought.
“You’re nothing like other women your age,” he replied. “Or any other age, I might add.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.
“You should,” he nodded, reaching over and grabbing the pie from the table. I’d been eyeing it for a few minutes and once I saw Bear cut into it, I squealed with delight when I saw it was peach.
“It’s peach!” I exclaimed.
“Yep,” he nodded, sliding a slice onto a plate and handing it to me. “Your favorite.”
“How did you—oh!” I said, blood rushing to my face. “Right.” Of course. The safe word.
Bear’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he smiled.