“Not today,” he says. “Come here.”
He pats the couch beside him.
“Lie down,” he instructs, then pats his lap. “Put your head here.”
The relief that washes over me is overwhelming. It’s not that I wasn’t prepared to kneel and listen to him, but this… he knows what I need and he’s giving it to me.
I lie on my side, resting my head on his thigh and immediately close my eyes. His hand goes to my head, gentle fingers brushing through my hair.
“Part of my job as your Master is to make sure you’re okay. Though you say you are, I don’t believe you. I can sense that you’re stressed, and you’re too used to feeling that way. It’s my duty to make sure you’re okay, or this will never work. I can’t have you resenting me for pushing you too hard, and I don’t want to make you feel worse either. I want this to be a safe space for both of us. This should make both of us feel better, and…” He pauses. “I know this was a job for you, and I know I went about it that way on purpose, but I feel like… I feel like maybe things are settling in differently for us. That you’re getting more out of this than the paycheck. Am I right?”
I nod slowly, his fingers still brushing through my hair. With each second that passes, each word he speaks, my heart rate slows and my muscles relax.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Cassius, because this is more to me too. I can’t explain it, but it’s… more.”
“Why does it have to be like this?” I ask, my voice low.
“It’s just how it has to be.”
“Because of your work?”
“Yes,” he says simply. But then he adds, “That’s a lie. It has nothing to do with work. I’d like to tell you the truth but only if you want to hear it.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harmon
I don’t know why I want to tell him about my private life, about things I don’t talk about with anyone, but maybe he needs to hear it. Maybe he needs to know that people get through tough times and can still come out in the end.
“I’ve told myself for years that I set up a contract with my slave for work purposes. And I suppose part of that is true. A very small part. The NDAs are important. People can be spiteful and it’s important to keep this private. The media would eat something like this up. But it’s more than that. It’s control. It’s… like what you said to me the other day. That everything falls apart if I’m not in control. Too many times I’ve lost control and the repercussions were dire.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry for me. I am hoping that you will gain something from this small look into my life.” He nods against my leg, and I start talking about something I swore I’d never talk about again. “My father was apowerful man. He started Stone Timeworks before I was born. He was proud of what he built and even more proud to have a son to pass everything down to. Until that son wasn’t what he wanted him to be.” I take a deep breath and continue. “He’d make remarks constantly about me not being manly enough, for as far back as I can remember. When I was just a boy, certainly before my teenage years. And then as I got older, the comments became more frequent and harsher. He’d lose his temper. He’d hit me. My mother. The staff. Anyone who got in his way. I tried my best to do as he wanted, but I was so anxious all the time, so out of control, that I’d panic. I’d shut down. I wouldn’t know what to do, and so I did nothing.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “My father was a terribly cruel man to everyone, but because he was who he was, he got away with it. People dealt with it. He’d threatened to never let his company go to someone like me, someone who wasn’t a real man. He died before he could change the legal stuff. Heart attack. Killed him instantly. I wasn’t even sorry about it. My mother cried at his funeral, but it was all for show. I didn’t shed a tear. But I did make myself a promise that day. I promised myself I’d never lose control. I’d never be angry like him. And I’d never let anyone feel less than for who they are. There is… so much more that my father did to me, that I could go into detail about, but none of it matters much. It was just words. Just bad memories. What matters is that I got out of it, and here I am.”
“So, the controlis…”
“I can’t be like him. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind again, like I’m going to shut down and not know what to do or explode, but I won’t allow myself. Not having control is for weak people. I am not weak. I am strong.”
Cassius sits up, looking at me with a frown. “It’s okay to be weak sometimes.”
I shake my head. “Not for me it isn’t.”
“It’s okay when it’s with the right people. Being vulnerable is…”
“Is for the weak.”
“Opening up to someone, giving them the power to hurt you, but trusting they won’t? That is strength and you can’t convince me otherwise.”
“I can tell you’re passionate about this and I—”
My words are cut off when his mouth is pressed against mine. I’m so shocked I don’t know how to react, so I freeze. Then panic swells in my chest, but before I can shove him off, he moves back.
“How did that make you feel?” he asks, his bright blue eyes searching mine.