Page 76 of At His Beck & Call

I wanted to kill him. With my bare fucking hands.

The strength of my anger toward James is startling, alarming. The rage is stronger than anything I’ve ever known.

The fact that Lissa has a protective order against him means James did something to her. I don’t know what, but by his body language the day I saw him and his temper when I challenged him, it isn’t hard to guess.

The thought of someone laying a hand on that beautiful, sweet woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly makes me sick. I want to break something, punch my fist through a wall.

This rage frightens me. It’s as if it’s outside my body, put there by someone else,somethingelse, and impossible to fight.

Am I becoming like my father?

The thought threatens the very foundations of who I believe I am. This fucking asshole has triggered something in me that I didn’t know existed.

I reach the line at the cafeteria, barely able to process anything else around me until I reach the register. Desperately trying to remember what Lissa wanted, I order an apple juice for Henry and then finally recall that Lissa wanted a decaf latte.

I look up at the board, unsure what I want, and decide on an espresso, just to get something as strong as possible. I wait for the drinks to arrive while I spiral quietly at the end of the counter.

In some crazy way, Lissa has fulfilled so much of what I wanted to find in a partner. She’s perfect for me in bed; the wayshe complies with what I want gets me every time, but I also know the control is an illusion.

That’s what I want. I don’t ever want a woman to be truly afraid of me. Maybe that’s what makes me different from my father.

But you do like to dominate women.

The snide little voice in my head makes my chest tighten as I pick up the drinks and make my way back to the room.

How did this go so wrong?

Lissa was hired to be an escort, and yet somehow I feel responsible for her, protective of her. Even Henry, whom I barely know, reminds me of me as a young boy. Curious and thoughtful.

Fuck. I should terminate her contract right now. This is not going to end well.

“Thank you.”

I look up, startled to find that I’ve made my way all the way back to the room already, lost in thought.

Lissa gently takes the apple juice and latte from me as I open the espresso and down it in one scorching swallow. I watch her pierce a hole in the top of the juice box and hand it to her son, her movements so careful and gentle.

How could anyone feel anger toward her? She’s wonderful.

“Is there anything else you need?” I ask, not wanting to intrude on their time together for much longer. I plan to go and get my mother anyway, as she’s finally cleared to leave the hospital tonight.

“No. Thank you,” Lissa says quietly, before turning to me, and rising from the bed. She looks back at Henry. “I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes, okay, baby?”

He nods, sucking happily on the straw as the juice box slowly compresses in his hands.

I walk out of the room, Lissa following behind me.

“Thank you for what you did today,” she says as soon as we are out of earshot. “I appreciate it, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to get tangled up in my life, or my son’s. I’m so grateful for you speaking up for me, but I have to handle James on my own.”

Briefly, she closes her eyes, letting out a stifled breath. “This job is the best way for me to do that. It means I can pay for Henry’s care and any legal bills that’ll come my way in the divorce. I hope you don’t feel as if I expected you to come with me today. I was upset, but I should have told you to stay at the office.”

My stomach drops at her words. They are clinical, matter-of-fact, and cold. Any illusions that there might be something more between us are snuffed out in her hard, concentrated stare.

She sounds as if she is negotiating a business deal, and I’m not too proud to admit it blindsides me. To hear her tell me that the job is her lifeline, and not, as it has become for me, the best part of her day, is a harsh reminder of just what we are to one another.

Nothing.

She is an escort, I’m paying her for sex, and when that contract is done, it’ll be over. She won’t think of me again. And I should do the same.