Page 61 of He Will Come for Me

“No. My mother did.” That answers my question. He takes me talking badly about the decor as an insult to his mother.

“Where is your mother? She wasn’t at graduation.” I remember him talking to me right before graduation. I asked him if his parents were there and he said his father was. He never mentioned his mother. I wonder why.

“I don’t know where she is,” he answers, shocking me with his honest answer. I wonder briefly how old he was when she left. Or maybe she died, like mine did. I want to lash out at him and say something like maybe she got tired of looking at him every day, but I can’t. I remember what it felt like when my mom died. It felt like my world was ending. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Even him.

“Alright, well, I’m going to explore the rest of this house.” He pushes away from his desk and stands.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“No.” I don’t want him to come with me. He arches an eyebrow at me, an amused expression on his face.

“I wasn’t asking.” He stops in front of me and motions at me to turn around. “Let’s go.” I groan inwardly as I turn and walk back into the hallway. He closes his door and locks it, piquing my curiosity. What’s in there that he has to lock the door? Huffing, I follow him downstairs and he stops in the main entryway.

I tilt my head back to look up at the chandelier. “Does every chandelier have lights in them that look like candles?”

He looks up and shrugs.“Yes.”

My home growing up was modern. My father didn’t have anything in it that looked remotely like old money, but Phoenix’s home does. That was one of the things my father hated about the Stones. They were considerednew money,which is such an antiquated way of thinking. This house doesn’t look like new money.

“So, this was your parents’ home?” I ask, fishing for more information.

“Yes. It’s belonged to my mother’s family for decades.” Interesting. So, maybe Phoenix does come from old money. I want to ask why his father doesn’t live here, but I leave it alone for now. I think I’ve reached my quota for questions.

“We can update the decor,” Phoenix says as he leads me to a room to the right. Opening both doors, I step in and stare.

“A ballroom?” I ask. He nods and watches me as I walk around the room. There’s a large fireplace on the left with a mirror over it. I love the fireplace. If there were some comfortable chairs in front of it, it would be a perfect place to read. Two chandeliers hang from the ceiling, with the same style as in my room and the entryway. On the right, the wall is made up of windows looking out over the estate.

Stepping up to one of the windows, I admire the large oak trees with the Spanish moss in them. One of my favorite things about Savannah. Stepping back, I turn in a circle, taking in everything about the ballroom.

“So, do you host a lot of parties?” I ask. He places his hands in his pockets and stares at me. He’s answered all of my questions. Why won’t he answer this one? His face is a mask. I’m beginning to learn that’s his way of not revealing anything with his facial expressions. Understanding dawns on me as I turn around in the ballroom again.

“You host auctions.” It’s a statement that hits me in the stomach. Something that feels a lot like disappointment settles in my chest. I don’t know why I’m disappointed. Maybe a part of me was still holding on to the image I had painted of him in school. I was so sure he wasn’t like the rest of the guys at school. Building my wall another row, I meet his stare.

“How often?” The veins on his forearms stand out as he crosses his tattooed arms.

“Once a year.” His words are said matter-of-factly. Turning away from him, I stare out the windows. How can he do this to women? Why does he do it? My eyes burn with unshed tears that I refuse to let fall, because fuck him.

“Are there other women here?” I clench my fists and suck in a breath as I wait for his answer.

“No. You’re the only woman I’ve ever bought.” Relief washes over me. The thought of being held prisoner with other women I can’t help would be my last straw. I was so close to getting out of this city and moving somewhere far away from my father, but here I am stuck with someone that might be worse.

“You should be flattered.”

My head whips around at his absurd statement. “You’re fucking kidding.”

A small smirk forms on his lips and he shakes his head as he takes a calculated step toward me, then another. I step back, but he quickly has my back against one of the windows.

“I don’t kid, darling.”

I slap his face before I can even comprehend the action. His head turns to the side with the force of my hand. He looks stunned and pissed. Bringing my hands up to cover my mouth at the shock of my own actions, I wait to see how he retaliates. He turns his head slowly, so he’s facing me again. Placing his hands on either side of me, he leans down until his nose is touching mine.

His face is slightly red from the slap and the creases around his eyes are so pronounced I could count them. “That will be the only time you’ll ever hit me. Understand?” I nod. “Use your words.”

“I… I understand.” My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and a cold sweat has broken out over my skin. Will he hit meback? Will he punish me in another way? He leans back slightly and brings his finger to my forehead. I flinch, but he doesn’t hit me. He runs his index finger down my cheek and to the pulse in my neck and back up.

Balling my hands into fists, I try to sink into the window behind me. I want to go back to my room. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he speaks so softly I have to strain to hear him.

“But you already have,” I whisper. He leans back slightly, giving me some space. He tilts his head, a question in his eyes that I refuse to answer. “I think I’ve had enough for one day. I want to go back to my room.” He continues to stare at me for so long I begin to wonder if he’ll let me go.

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