Page 19 of Fearless Bond

“How do you even know Laurel Riley?”

Calvin shrugged. “We went to high school together. I was younger, and Laure took me under his wing when some assholes from his year ganged up on me at the cafeteria. He was my hero since day one. My father wasn’t happy about the friendship because the Rileys wereonlymiddle class, but since he barely had time to speak two words to me most days, I got away with it. He traveled for business a lot, and our majordomo liked Laure, so Laure and I spent the summers by our pool or gaming in my room.”

“You had a majordomo growing up?”

“Filippo still works for us. He’s only sixty.”

How rich was Calvin’s family? I stacked the dishes into the dishwasher, my mind reeling.

“Then Laure dropped out of college during freshman year to pursue his music career,” Calvin continued, “and Father threatened to block my cards if I kept seeing him. He does that a lot. Money is his main motivator, so he believes it’s like that for everyone. When Laure became world-famous a few months later, Father deemed him a valuable connection again.”

“You’re still in college?”

“Finished a few months ago. Got my degree and everything.”

“Yeah? That’s impressive. It couldn’t have been easy with your anxiety thing.”

Calvin gave me a self-deprecating smile. “Studying is the one thing that calms me down. I enjoyed college. For once, I had real challenges to deal with, and I could feel good about accomplishing something. Heh, I sound like a total nerd, don’t I?”

Or like one hell of a tough little guy. “What’s your degree in?”

“Early childhood education. I love small kids. Love their directness, creativity, the innocent honesty… And you can make so much difference before they start school.” He shrugged. “I wanted to be a daycare teacher.”

“Why the past tense? You have the credentials, so why not do it?”

“My father paid for my education because he found childcare an appropriate line of study for an omega soon to be married. But he didn’t want me to work. Especially not in something so… pedestrian.” He looked down at his hands. Was he ashamed? How was his father being a major douchebag Calvin’s fault? “I was supposed to become a stay-at-home dad and a docile house-husband for someone like Damian.”

I started the program on the dishwasher, punching the button harder than necessary. “This Damian. Who is he?”

“He studies corporate law as a postgrad, has a trust fund and parents in business and politics. His older brother is a renownedplastic surgeon. Damian owns a two-story apartment in the city, a yacht, and a summer residence on the beach. If Father could pull off a two-hundred-guest wedding that fast, he’d marry me off to Damian tomorrow. He has a corner office at the company headquarters waiting for his perfect future son-in-law.”

The bitter tone in Calvin’s voice made me sad. “Right. Precious Damian sounds like a real catch.”

“He’s arrogant, controlling, and selfish. I’m ashamed it took me so long to break up with him.”

“He probably didn’t behave like that when he was trying to get your attention.” I knew that type from my stint at the bank in the city.

“No. It was all flowers, dinners, and Sundays on the yacht. He held my hand, gazing at me dotingly as I babbled about my child psychology courses. He kept telling me what an amazing teacher and parent I’d be one day. But as soon as he thought I was a sure thing, he stopped pretending. I should have seen it from the start. They say you should judge a man by how he treats the people he doesn’t care about. He’d always been horrible to the staff. Filippo hated him.”

Calvin played with his coffee mug, watching the liquid swirl around. He looked small and defeated.

“What will you do when you get back?”

He sighed, and as he exhaled, he managed to look even smaller. My heart ached at the sight. “Stand my ground, I guess. I’m scared, but Laure will help me. And I need a therapist. Someoneoutsideof my father’s contact network. I don’t want to take the meds anymore. They make me exhausted.”

Oh boy. This was getting better and better. “What meds?”

“When I turned eighteen, my father got someone to prescribe medication for me. The attacks didn’t disappear, so they increased the dose. I barely remember some days. Time moved like syrup. I don’t want to take the pills anymore.”

“Is there other stuff that helps?”

Smirking, Calvin stared into his mug. “Being away from my father and Damian and being in mortal danger. I wasn’t anxious when I was staggering through a freezing forest. Just plain scared.”

“And now?”

He looked up. His soft smile hit me right in the solar plexus. Lord, those lips were pretty. “I’m great. Thank you for letting me stay. It’s like I can breathe freely for the first time in years.”

“Um. Sure. No problem.” I felt my cheeks heat. It seemed I’d regressed to a fumbling teen. “The mountain air is good. Helps with all kinds of stuff. Yeah. So…”

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