Page 48 of Savage Game
A slow smile crept from the corners of his mouth to his cheeks, and his eyes lightened. “Nothing?”
“Um, no. I don’t think you need anybody.”
“You’re mistaken. Having you here. Taking care of you and protecting you—even from yourself—and seeing you bloom and grow settles something inside me. Your need to be guided and dominated is as large as my need to control you and help you thrive. There’s nothing more effective than to have your soft body on my lap or yielding beneath me to settle my anger or frustration, like with the Seattle safety issues. And there’s nothing more to say I’m loved and trusted than when you willingly submit to my”—his mouth curved—“baser needs, and to implements of pain and pleasure.”
“Oh.” The word left her mouth on a soft sigh.
“Do you want to eat first, or unwrap your present?” He indicated the wrapped gift with his head.
“For me? Why?”
“Do I need a reason to give you a present?”
Um yes. Gifts never came free. At least, with Liam they didn’t—few and far between as they were.
“Huh, maybe you don’t. I do seem to be conditioned to expect the worst though.” She chewed on her bottom lip and leaned back in her chair. “Now I remember how Poppa used to bring me gifts. We didn’t have much, but he always brought me something when he came home—an apple, a pretty rock, some candy.” Her heart lifted with the memory. “He gave freely and with all his heart.”
“That’s it, Kittycat.” He inclined his head, but even the shadows couldn’t conceal his smile. “Now unwrap this one.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened when she opened the box, revealing the rose-gold MacBook and the latest model iPhone. With an awed expression, she stroked her fingertip over the laptop. “Are those for me?”
He chuckled and gave her a “what do you think” look.
Her gorgeous eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at him and sucker-punched him right in the gut.
A long breath escaped her, and she closed the box as if it contained a bomb. “I can’t accept. I won’t.”
“Why not?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not comfortable with accepting gifts. You’ve already given me an eReader and these are… are far more expensive. It makes me feel cheap.”
“Kitten.” Displeasure, disbelief, and hurt dripped from the one word, and Byron couldn’t care less.
She stiffened but maintained eye contact.
Scooting back his chair, he slapped the napkin beside the rapidly cooling breakfast and patted his thigh. “Come here.”
She bit her lip.
Her hesitation scraped his nerves like concrete once scraped his skin, but then she reluctantly rose and slowly moved around the table.
She perched on his knee like a small child would do with a distant relative, rather than cuddling close as he’d come to love. Fuck that! He wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her against him—not delicately at all.
“Now tell me why you’re objecting. I want you to have a phone. If you worry about the costs, don’t. It comes with a year-long paid plan, including internet access. It’s small enough to fit in a purse or a back pocket but has a six-and-a-half-inch screen, so you can use it for reading, too.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he placed his index finger against her lips. It pleased him immensely when she obeyed his silent order, and some of his frustration drained away. His shoulder muscles unknotted.
“Now for the MacBook. When you’re going to school, you’ll need a laptop.” He shrugged. “I figured you would rather get something useful than jewelry or designer clothes.” Okay, he did buy her more of those, too, but that’s beside the point now. Now, he needed her to accept the devices.
Charlotte pressed her back against his bicep and tipped back her head. “I agree I need a laptop for school, but it doesn’t have to be something high-end like that.” She worried her mouth and gestured to the box on the table.
He lifted the shoulder she wasn’t leaning against. “Only the best is good enough for you, and I can afford the best the market has to offer.”
“I know you can, but that isn’t the point, is it? I don’t want you to buy me expensive things. To me, it cheapens what’s between us.” She placed her soft palm against his marred skin with the tenderest of touches. “I love you for who you are, not what you can buy me.”
He’d learned at an early age that life didn’t give a damn about being fair. Hell, not only wasn’t it fair, it could rise up and tear your world apart in the span of a single breath and then turn around and rip the very soul from your body. Whining about it was a colossal waste of time and energy. When one’s world imploded, a person had two choices: give up or fight like hell.
He’d chosen the latter, working hard his entire life to get where he was to gain the knowledge and experience necessary to run not one but several businesses that employed thousands of people. Though he liked to believe those same people respected him, he was savvy enough to acknowledge they were far more likely to simply appreciate the fact that he signed their paychecks. That had always been enough for him before.
The circles he walked in were filled with some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the state. Years of experience and observation had proven that people often hid behind masks; one moment extolling your accomplishments and the next attempting to stomp you into the ground. One didn’t reach the pinnacle of success without learning how to look behind the façade, and he’d long since stopped basing his own worth on the accolades of others.
