Secrets Behind Those Eyes (24 page)

I spent those four years living between
members of my father’s “family”. They weren’t blood family, of
course. They were people who worked for my father, but he treated
them like family.

The reason he shot my mother is pretty
straight forward. You see, my father says I was the most beautiful
little girl he’d ever laid eyes on. Of course, he has to say this –
he’s my father and he’s biased – but everyone else in the family
agrees with him, so I guess I must have been pretty cute.

My mother was quite young when she had me
and she’d had a rough childhood. When she brought me home from the
hospital, she mentioned to wife of one of my father employees that
she was planning to leave my dad and taking me away. She had grown
up in the child sex slave industry and thought she could get rich
by pimping me out.

According to Monique, the woman she’d told
her plans to, she was hoping to get in touch with her previous
contacts and set the ball rolling. Then she’d leave my father and
take me to the city.

There was a market for
babies as young as one year old, but because I was only a newborn,
she had the bright idea of taking naked pictures of me and selling
them to pedophiles on the internet to make money until I reached my
first birthday. Of course, Monique contacted my father immediately
and told him of my mother’s plans. She didn’t deny it when he asked
her. She wasn’t even ashamed of her plans. I was her
daughter
and she
couldn’t give a fuck about the life she was planning on throwing me
into. All she saw were dollar signs.

That’s why I feel nothing when I think of
her. Nothing at all. I’m a daddy’s girl through and through. My dad
may do illegal things, but I don’t care one bit. He saved me from a
life of pain, heartache and sorrow. He gave me the best of
everything and made me feel safe and protected my entire life.
Every day I thank my lucky stars for my father, and that’s why,
when I got that phone call that my dad was sick, I dropped
everything and came home.

CHAPTER 2

Shoving me up against the wall, my feet
leave the ground as Beau takes my weight by gripping my ass and
lifting me. My legs wrap around his muscled waist and my ankles
cross over, resting against his ass. One hand leaves my ass and
travels to my pussy. I moan as he thrusts two fingers inside me
before adding a third. His thumb circles my clit and I cry out,
letting my head fall back against the wall behind me. His mouth
finds my nipple and he sucks the pebbled bud hard.

“You want this, Duchess?”

“Yes. Fuck me, please, Beau. Fuck me,” I
beg, unashamedly.

His fingers leave my pussy, and in one sharp
thrust, he fills me. I scream out, as his cock bottoms out inside
me. Then, he begins to move. He sets a steady pace, pumping in and
out of me until a fine sheen of sweat covers both of us.

“Please, Beau,” I pant. My orgasm is just
beyond reach, but if he gives it to me a bit harder, I know I’ll
find it in no time. “Harder.” I push my body down on him and his
eyes flash.

“You want it hard, baby?”

“Yes.” My answer comes out sounding short,
sharp and high pitched.

“You want it hard, baby, I’m going to give
it to you so hard, you’ll feel my cock in your throat,” he growls
into the crook of my neck.

“Yes,” I almost sigh.

He pulls out almost all the way before
slamming inside me and grinding hard against my pelvis. He does it
again and again until my body contracts and detonates with the
force of my orgasm. A kaleidoscope of color fills my vision as my
head falls back on my shoulders and I’m sure I pass out. When I
come to, Beau’s hands are under my arms, his palms are flat against
the top of my back and his fingers are curled around, holding the
top of my shoulders. They dig in as he slams me down on each upward
thrust. His balls slap against my ass with force as he continues to
drive inside me.

“Oh, fuck!” I shout.

“Give me more,” he growls in my face with a
ferocity I can’t even explain.

“Can’t,” I say breathlessly.

“More,” he shouts before
bending his head down and pulling my nipple into his mouth. He
sucks so hard, I almost cry out in pain, but before I can he
releases my nipple and moves his head slightly left to suck on the
other one. He grinds against me and my swollen clitoris trembles
with the contact. My entire body shudders in his arms as another
orgasm rips through my body. I lean forward and suck his neck,
kissing him up to his ear. Taking his lobe into my mouth, I gently
roll it between my teeth, while my heavy breathing rushes against
his skin in bursts. My hands travel up and down his back, reveling
in the sculptured beauty that is
him.
The room is filled with his
groans, and my moans. The sound of our skin slapping together
echoes all around and I feel myself get even wetter from the scent
of our sex surrounding us.

He continues to thrust in and out of me with
a force I never knew existed. Then I feel his breath hitch and his
cock expands inside me before exploding. His warm come shoots up
inside me and a tremble runs through my body.

He rests his head against my shoulder while
he steadies his ragged breathing. My pussy continues to throb,
pulsing against his cock until it softens inside me. He slips out
of me and lowers me to my feet. My legs feel like jello and I’m
overcome with tiredness.

He tips my chin up so my weary eyes meet
his. He looks at me like he’s seeing inside my soul. It’s unnerving
but I can’t tear my gaze away. He lowers his head to mine and takes
my mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue traces the seam of my
lips and mine part to grant him access. He tastes every inch of me,
as if I’m his last meal. I return his kiss with vigor. My hands run
up and down his chiseled arms to wrap around his neck. His hands
stay firmly planted on my face, cupping my cheeks, holding my face
steady and tilted to the side. Pulling back, he rests his forehead
on mine for what feels like hours. I watch as he takes a step back
from me, my body immediately craving the return of the warmth he
provides.

His eyes are darker than usual and they’re
hiding something. Lust, longing and…pain, flash before me in his
brown depths before he closes his eyes and gives a little shake of
his head. His eyes reopen and I can tell the shutters have come
down. His eyes are back to being hard and void of any emotion.

“That can’t happen again, Harlow,” he
surprises me by saying.

“W-what? Why?” I stumble over my words.

“Don’t fucking question me. I said it can’t
happen again, and I mean it.” He roughly tucks his cock back into
his jeans and does the zipper up before stalking out of the room
without a backward glance.

My heart thuds in my chest as my cheeks
heat. Humiliation rushes over my body, drowning me from head to
toe. I sink to the floor and let the tears fall.

**

The door clicks open and my head springs
up.

He’s changed his
mind
. Hope flares in my chest. I quickly
wipe the tears from my face and go to sit up.

“Harlow?” I hear my father. I slump back
down.

He’s not coming back.

“Harlow, are you down here?”

“Ye-,” my voice comes out sounding cracked,
so I clear my throat. “Yeah, dad. I’ll be up in a second.”

“Right,” he calls back and I imagine him
nodding his head once, sharply as he says the word.

I climb to my feet and adjust my clothes.
After combing my hair with my fingers, I walk with lead feet up the
stairs. The light momentarily blinds me as I exit the basement.
Closing the door softly behind me, I walk quickly to my room,
avoiding eye contact with anyone I pass on my way.

Entering my room, I don’t pause to look
around at my pale-rose colored walls, or my king, four-poster
canopy bed. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor as I walk into my
private bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I let my breath out
in a whoosh. Reaching over, I turn the faucet and fill a bath. I
add my favorite jasmine and vanilla scented bubble bath and wait as
the water fills the tub. I strip off my clothes and toss them in
the dark wood laundry hamper, then I step into the bath and sink
down below the bubbles. Laying a wash cloth over my eyes, I lie
back and try to relax. I try not to think.

It’s impossible.

Beau Diesel. God, I want
him – not just sexually. No, I want
all
of him. His mind, his body, his
soul, his heart…
everything.
I’ve wanted him for so long. But, I’ve known for
just as long that he doesn’t want me back.

He’s seven years older than me, and when we
were kids, we used to play together. Not all the time, but
sometimes. Like when we had “family gatherings” or he came by the
house with his father. At grade school, we didn’t play much but I
remember the very first time my heart started beating differently
for him. Matthew and Michelle Peterson were twins and they were
bullies. One day, Matthew pushed me into a puddle of mud. Then,
Michelle, Matthew and a bunch of other kids stood around me in a
circle, pointing and laughing at me. Beau was about twelve and I
was around five. He saw them and came over to see what was
happening. When he saw it was me, he punched Matthew Peterson right
in the nose and made him bleed. He told everyone else that if he
ever saw them picking on me again, they would be dealing with him.
The kids scattered. Beau held his hand out to me and helped me up.
He took me to a seat away from everyone and wiped my eyes free of
my tears and got me cleaned up as best as possible. No kids ever
picked on me again. Every time I saw him after that, my heart beat
funny…like a flutter. I’d give him a small, shy smile and he’d give
me a cute one-sided grin with a wink.

Then, his parents sent him to all boys
boarding school and I was sent to an all girls boarding school. We
lost contact and our lives went in different directions, until one
day we were both home at the same time. I was eighteen, he was
twenty-five. He took my virginity. I’d never been happier. Stupid
me; I thought we’d finally be together. Afterwards, he held me in
his arms, and then, with eyes full of regret, he told me we
couldn’t be together.

“It’s just not meant to be, duchess.” He got
out of bed and walked out. I stripped my bed sheets and then laid
back down and cried myself to sleep.

I didn’t see him again for five years. I
went back to school and after I graduated, I kept my distance by
travelling. The only times I returned home were when I was sure
Beau wasn’t going to be around. It was difficult, seeing as he was
now working for my father, and he spent a lot of time at the house
when he wasn’t out on business. Thankfully, my childhood Nanny
still worked for my father, only she’s a maid now, so she kept me
in the loop about when Beau was going to be around or not.

Now, here I was – I’d only been home for a
week, and already I’d let Beau fuck me and leave me…again.

Throwing the washcloth off my face, I
quickly shave my legs and get out of the now-cool tub water. I take
an oversized bath sheet from the warming rack and wrap it around my
body, sighing as the warmth engulfs me.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” I whisper to the
girl looking back at me in the mirror. My long dark hair is pulled
into a lifeless bun at the base of my neck and sadness shadows my
green eyes.

At least my skin still looks tanned and
glowing from my travels.

Sighing, I rub some moisturizer into my
face, arms and legs and then walk out of the bathroom and into my
walk-in closet. I chose a pair of loose fitting yoga pants and a
tank top, before walking over to my window seat. Grabbing my
e-reader, I curl up into myself and begin to read. I know I should
be visiting with my dad – he’s the reason I came home. If he hadn’t
called to say he had cancer, I would still be travelling, but right
now, I can’t face him. I need to get lost in a fictional world for
a little while.

***

“Good evening Miss Harlow,” one of the
servants greets me as I take my place at the table.

“Good evening,” I reply quietly.

I eat the chicken and pesto pasta dish in
silence. My father rarely makes it to dinner on a weeknight, but he
has always had a baked dinner with me on Sunday evenings. The only
time this tradition stopped was when I was travelling. I finish my
meal and take my empty plate to the kitchen.

“Oh, no, no, Miss Harlow, you don’t have to
do that,” Francesco, or Frankie, tutts at me. He’s been the house
cook for most of my life. He’s short and skinny with a face full of
wrinkles and a head of salt and pepper colored hair.

“You know I don’t mind, Frankie. I’m not an
invalid,” I smile warmly at him.

“I will miss you, Miss Harlow,” he says
sincerely.

“I’ll miss you too, Frankie, but it’s only
for a month, right?” Frankie is going back to Sicily to spend some
time with his family. Although, most of his relatives are now
living in America, he still likes to travel back to see the cousins
once every couple of years. He’s leaving tomorrow for four weeks,
so Lucy will take on his cooking duties.

“Yes, I can’t Lucy take over for too long.
She’ll think she’s in charge.”

“Oh, stop it,” I laugh.

“Go on, now, then. Out of the kitchen,” he
shoos me with his hand.

I walk out of the kitchen and turn left.
Nothing much changes around here; the walls are still painted a
soft beige color, the same framed prints still hang along the walls
and even though it’s never been replaced, the thick, cream wool
carpet still has that brand-new-but-worn-in feel about it. I pause
to look at a picture on the wall outside my father’s office. It’s a
beautiful tile mosaic portrait of the New York skyline. I loved it
as soon as I saw it at a trash and treasure sale when I was about
twelve years old. My father hated it when I showed him, so to spite
him, I had one of my “uncles” hang it right outside his office
door. Of course, even though he despises it, he’s never taken it
down because he knows I love it.