Pet
“Miss, Sargent Torresis here for you,” Brigid says as she enters the sitting room.
I look up from the flames of the fire and glance at Maximus. His wide shoulders fill the doorjamb, dwarfing me and everything else in the room. A pang of nervousness and excitement twist my gut. I’m both happy to see him and want him gone because him checking up on me means he thinks I’m pathetic.I’m sick of being pathetic. I’m tired of being weak, and I’m so lonely, yet I don’t know how to deal with company right now.
“Hi.” My throat is thick with emotion when I meet his gaze. I must look a mess. Other than to eat, shower, and use the bathroom, I haven’t moved from this spot for two days. What’s the point? I can’t go anywhere with my hulking Italian shadow looming over me. Not that I have anywhere to go. Reporters are still darkening the long drive. I can’t even walk around outside the front of the house without feeling like I’m the starring act of a traveling freak show.
“Hey, how you doin’?” Max’s face lights up with a genuine smile. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“It is. I’m actually rather busy doing nothing.”
He chuckles, and the sound reverberates throughout the room. I have this insane desire to go to him and lean my head against his chest just to feel the warmth, the vibration, in the hope that some of his easy disposition will rub off on me.
I take my feet from off the chair opposite, and Max falls into it.
“Oh, well I should definitely let you get back to that.” He glances at Christian and then around the room. His training is clearly coming into play. “Are they treating you well?”
I shrug. “How is it that I was treated better as a sex slave than I am in my childhood home?”
Max’s eyes narrow. “Is someone hurting you, Camille?”
I wave him away with a lazy hand gesture. “No, no one is hurting me. Not even when I beg.”
My paltry attempt at humor falls short. Silence settles over the room, and Max clears his throat. His baby blues are filled with pity. There’s nothing I hate more than being looked upon with pity.
“You wanna get out of here?”
“I can’t. I’m not allowed to leave.”
He frowns. “Your dad kidnapping you now too? Of course you can leave.”
“Apparently you missed the memo, not to mention the reporters out front.”
“So we’ll stick to the backyard. It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there, but the air will do you good.”
I smile, because I’ve never heard that expression before, and his Brooklyn accent is so thick I could wrap myself in it to ward away the winter chill. “Okay. Just let me put on some warmer clothes.”
I run upstairs, followed closely by Christian. I slam the door in his face, fix my hair, and switch out my yoga pants and sweatshirt for a pair of jeans, a Free People Henley, and a thick sweater. Then I pull on a pair of boots, kid gloves, and a coat and scarf, and run downstairs.
Maximus is waiting in the parlor when I come in. He’s staring at a framed photograph of a girl with her arm around Parker. There’s a smile on the young girl’s face. The photo was taken at her engagement party—myengagement party. I don’t even know that me anymore.
“How’s Mr. Ward doin’?”
“I don’t know. Parker doesn’t come by much.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” I shrug and head for the door. “I don’t really mind though. It’s weird being engaged to a man you don’t remember, a man you don’t even like. Sometimes I wonder what that says about the pre-abduction me. Did I love him, or was I only interested in the financial and emotional security he provided? I guess I’ll never know.”
“Well, I don’t know that Camille, but I like to think I know this one, at least a little. I think you could stand to be kinder to yourself. It’s a confusing time for everyone, but right now, you need to be looking out for you.”
“I don’t know if I deserve anyone’s kindness, Maximus.” A sad smile flits across my face. Am I a product of Ares’ making? Or have I always been this fucked up, this desperate for pain, and the need to be hurt? I wonder if the old me would even recognize the woman she’s become.
He grabs my hand and squeezes gently, the way he did back in the hospital. I glance down at out interlocked fingers, and he slides his hand free and pulls a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket. I inhale sharply and close my eyes, wanting to feel them on my skin, wishing they belonged to another man who had come to free me from my father’s prison. A man whose smile alone could promise both pain and salvation.
“Hey, you okay?” Maximus doesn’t touch me again, but he does bow his head to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Max, do me a favor?”