Page 90 of His Property

Victor tilts his head. “Football fan, huh?”

I nod. “Yup. During football season, every Sunday after church I go to my dad’s house to watch the games.”

Victor purses his lips and spins his wine glass on the table. It grates against the wood. “I bet you’re a real daddy’s girl.”

I consider that for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess.”

“You guess?”

I shrug. “My dad doesn’t really know me. He either sees what he wants to see, or he criticizes until I do what he wants so I can fit into the box he carefully picked out for me.”

Victor’s brows lift. “Damn.”

I chuckle nervously and look down at my glass. “Too deep?”

Victor says nothing, and when I look up at him, his piercing eyes make my heart gallop.

He smirks. “And you thought the color thing was a surface-level question. See what I’m able to get out of you?”

I chuckle again and take another sip of wine, studying my glass and pretending it isn’t an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“Why is your name spelled weird?” he asks.

Grateful for the change of subject, I meet Victor’s gaze. “You mean Audre?”

He nods.

“My mom named me after Audre Lorde. She’s a feminist writer from the—”

“I’m familiar with her,” Victor says. “Wasn’t she gay?”

“Yeah.”

He stops turning his glass and curls his fingers around the stem. “Kind of an early clue, wasn’t it?”

He’s referring to my mom being gay. I roll my eyes, but I can see his point. I find it far more ironic that my mother would name me after a feminist when I ended up with Victor. Not that I’mnota feminist or Victor is sexist, but, well, I’m guessing our kind of submissive/dominant roleplaying sex would give my mother a heart attack. And I would be quickly disowned.

“Does it bother you?” he asks.

My brows pinch. “Does what bother me?”

“Your mom hiding her sexuality during your parents’ marriage. Don’t you ever wonder if she truly loved your father?”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t bother me. My dad and her are polar opposites, so they never would’ve worked out regardless. I used to wonder if she really wanted me or if she was just doing what society told her to, but I never really cared about my parents not being together. I can’t even picture it. They divorced when I was really young.”

“Do you still wonder?”

I blink and rest my forearms on the table. “What?”

“If she really wanted you or if she was just doing what society told her to?”

A lump forms in my throat, and I suddenly wish we could go back to questions about horoscopes and favorite colors. I trust Victor, and I want him to fully know me. I love thathewants that. But fuck, some of it hurts to talk about.

I swallow the lump and play with my glass. “No, I don’t wonder.”

I already know. She had me and then she moved across the country. If you asked her about it, she’d tell you she set herself free, and she lived the life she’d dreamed of. She traveled, she found love, she experienced other cultures and lived her life to the fullest. Of course she never wanted me. I was an anchor rooting her in place. But she didn’t let that stop her, did she?

Victor doesn’t push me to go on and tell him what he already knows, and I’m thankful for it. He pushes and he prods, but as soon as he suspects I’m uncomfortable, he abruptly stops. We’ve been talking nonstop for days, and it’s like he’s on a mission to know everything possible about me as fast as possible. I love it. I feel important around him. Cared for. Loved. And above all else, accepted.

---