Chapter 3: Now You’re Mine: Chapter 3

The entire day has been one giant clusterfuck.

I grip the edge of the counter until my arms tremble and my muscles ache. This tiny bit of discomfort pales in comparison to the frustration coursing through me like molten lava, incinerating my insides with guilt. I want to rip this emotion from my chest, but no amount of violence will rid me of the unwelcome emotion.

My only hope for serenity lies in a woman who despises me.

I shove away from the island and walk into the living room. My thoughts are as scattered as the pearls all over the floor. I bend down to pick up the pieces of jewelry and curse myself for not being more careful to hide them. If I hadn’t been so obsessed with finding Calista’s assailant, then I wouldn’t have forgotten the pearls in my coat.

In a manner of minutes, they’re back in my pocket. All sixty-four of them. I counted the total the night I broke into Calista’s apartment. I wanted to know how many times it’d take to fuck myself before I was through giving them back to her. Turns out I didn’t need that many.

I might now.

Of its own volition, my head swings in the direction she just left, my eyes hungry for a glimpse of her. The hallway is empty. My disappointment rises, along with my craving for her. After my discovery of the date-rape drug’s connection to all three crimes, I wanted to ease my worries in the heat of her cunt and the warmth of her embrace, but the look she gave me when I walked in the door…

I shake my head as if that’ll rid me of the mental image. In my mind’s eye, Calista gazes at me with something worse than anger. The pain of betrayal. In that moment, I would’ve given anything to erase that hurt from her expression. Witnessing it was pure agony, but knowing I’m the reason for it?

Brutal.

I won’t apologize for stalking her. If I did, it’d be a lie, and I’ve told her enough of those already. That doesn’t mean I’m going to reveal the truth about her father’s murder. If Calista thinks she hates me now, then knowing that will ruin any chance of me winning her heart.

I’ve probably already fucked up my chance with her.

But I won’t give up. I can’t, not when she’s my reason for living. Before her, I simply existed. Now that I know what it feels like to receive her affection, I can never go back to the way things were before.

Revenge isn’t enough.

Maybe it never was.

My need for justice still lingers. If anything, it’s amplified because of Calista’s history. The secretary’s murder led to me killing Senator Green, which, in turn, ruined Calista’s life. I’m going to make things right, no matter what or how long it takes.

The only thing stronger than my determination is my need for her.

I stare out of the window, my gaze tracing the city’s skyline. The lights battle against the darkness of night and cast a glow on everything they touch. That’s what Calista does for me. She sheds light on my dark soul.

A muffled tapping reaches my ears, and I tilt my head, concentrating on the noise. I straighten and follow the sound until I’m standing in front of the door to the guest bedroom, where I can clearly hear it.

Along with Calista’s sobs.

They gut me, and I nearly double over. Instead, I remain completely still, unsure of what to do. Instinct demands that I break down the fucking door, but I can’t give into my urges.

I can’t listen to her suffering either.

I raise my hand to knock and end up letting it fall to my side. This might be my house, but right now, Calista holds all the power over this situation. Over me.

I inhale and slowly blow out the breath before calling to her. “Baby?”

The gently spoken word takes me by surprise. I’m aware I’ve said this term of endearment to her before, but using it right now is proof of my vulnerability when it comes to this woman. Does Calista know that she could ask for anything and I wouldn’t have the strength to deny her if meant she’d come back to me?

I grit my teeth. Regardless of our disagreement, she belongs to me. I won’t entertain the thought of anything else. It’s simply not acceptable.

Being without her isn’t an option for me.

Or for her.

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to walk away from the sounds of her suffering. Once in the confines of my bedroom, I pace to ease the riotous emotions raging inside me. Calista’s tear-filled eyes haunt me, and her sobs echo in my ears until I’m gripping my hair, ready to rip it from my scalp.

Things have to go back to the way they were. I can’t imagine never seeing her smile or hearing her laughter again. When I first met Calista during her father’s trial, I wanted to know everything about her. It wasn’t until the Senator’s funeral that I finally gave myself permission to do so.

Calista has a goodness in her that the vileness of her trauma hasn’t been able to kill. The purity of her heart is what I discovered and then sought to protect all those months ago. Nothing’s changed. If that means deception, then so be it.

Her anger and hurt will fade in time. It has to. I acted with good intentions. My entire motivation was keeping her safe. Calista doesn’t see it right now, but she will.

She has to.

I wait as long as I can before the urge to go to her is overwhelming. Then I’m striding back to her door with my lock picks in hand. My need to check on her outweighs her need for privacy. Once I know she’s okay, I’ll have the reassurance I need to walk away.

God, I’m so full of shit.

Calista’s sleeping in my bed and nowhere else.

The entire penthouse is eerily quiet. There are no sobs or rhythmic tapping on the door. The only sound is the soft click of the lock sliding and the turning of the knob that engages the door’s mechanism.

I pull it open and peer into the darkness. The moonlight illuminates the room, allowing me to make out the untouched bed and empty chair. With my pulse thumping in my ears, I quickly scan the area, my gaze landing at the woman curled up by my feet.

After dropping to a crouch, I place my fingers on her neck and breathe a sigh of relief at finding her pulse steady. Calista doesn’t stir at my touch, the rise and fall of her chest continuing at an even pace.

She’s beautiful when she sleeps.

I brush a loose strand of hair from her face, almost groaning at the feel of her skin. Touching her isn’t just pleasurable to me. It’s fucking therapeutic.

The turmoil within me begins to lessen the minute I scoop her into my arms. I wait for her to awaken and fight me, but she remains deep in slumber. Without her resistance, I cradle her to my chest and breathe in her scent, the floral perfume filling my senses.

I carry her to my room, my steps even to keep from jarring her awake. I like Calista when she’s fiery, but tonight I need to hold her. If only to soothe my demons for a time.

When I reach my bed, a pang of reluctance runs through me at the idea of putting her down. I shake my head at myself and do it anyway with the intention to join her. Calista’s place is by my side.

At all times.

The warmth of her skin lingers on my hands, and I curl them into fists to keep from touching her the way I want to. Instead, I carefully undress her. Beginning with her blouse, I undo the buttons until I reveal the soft mounds of her breasts and the graceful dip of her stomach. Every inch of skin tantalizes me.

Lust sweeps through me, as it always does at the sight of this woman. I’m quick to shove it aside and continue removing her clothing. The jeans are a challenge, not only to take off without waking her, but when I catch sight of her lacy underwear, I nearly rip them from her body.

I may not be able to get inside Calista’s head, but she’s fucked with mine.

Once she’s in nothing except her bra and underwear, I undress until I’m completely nude. There’s no doubt in my mind that Calista’s going to be pissed when she wakes up in my bed, so me being naked won’t make a difference.

I ease onto the mattress and slide my arms around her, pulling her body flush to mine, her back to my chest. The physical contact puts me at ease, as does the gentle rhythm of her breathing. However, the tear stains on her cheek are like a knife twisting in my gut.

“You’re mine,” I say, reaching out to touch her, to temper the guilt that’s rising again. I trail my fingers over her hair, along her shoulder, and down her arm until I reach the curve of her hip. “I won’t let you leave,” I whisper against her skin. “I warned you that I wanted to own you, and I do. Every single piece of you belongs to me now.”

I pause for a moment when she sighs in her sleep. The sound is unguarded, trusting. It stirs something deep inside me, something I don’t want to identify.

“Your capacity for forgiveness confuses me, but I need it,” I say. “I’ll never apologize for protecting you because your life is all that matters to me. However, I’m sorry for hurting you.”

The sincerity of my words astounds me as much as the fact that I apologized, which is something I’ve never felt the need to do. But Calista is so much more than my lover. She’s the woman I care for.

And my future wife.