Lost & Bound (6 page)

I walk to the ottoman on the other side of
the room. I grab the throw rug that sits on top and wrap it around her
shoulders.

“Your bedroom?” she asks as her eyes glance
around the room.

“Yes,” I answer gently. “A long time ago
this was my bedroom.”

She sits on the edge of the bed offering me
a smile.

“It’s nice.”

“Of course it wasn’t decorated like this
when I lived here,” I tell her.

When I moved away to college my mom
redecorated it and made it into a guest room. The tone is neutral, navy blue
and ivory. It doesn’t suit me, but suits the character of the house. The only
thing that indicates this was once my
bedroom are
the
trophies that sit atop a floating shelf. Football, lacrosse, baseball—I
was an active kid. You name it I played it. My father wanted me to take part in
every sport and it wasn’t enough just to partake, I actually had to win. So I
did. There was never any other option. I had to play by his rules.

Leila seems calm now, at ease in my
company. I flick on the bedside lamp and take off my shoes.

“You’ve had many girls in this room before,
no?”

I notice the devilish grin on her face. She
winks at me and I can’t help but smile.

“Only a couple,” I answer modestly.
None who mattered.

“Your parents let you have girls in here?”
She seems genuinely shocked.

“Yes, when I was old enough. Plus they
weren’t home a lot of the time, so what they didn’t know…”

“You were a naughty boy.” She points a
finger at me. She seems playful and carefree. I like this side of her.

“No…” I try to keep my face serious.

I acted out a lot once I reached high
school.
Parties, girls, drugs, anything to try and get my
parents attention.
But as long as I got the grades, they turned a blind
eye to the other stuff.

“I had many parties here too,” I tell her.

“Parties?” she questions, a crease settling
in the middle of her forehead.

“No, I don’t mean parties like what’s going
on downstairs,” I say. “Keggers,” I continue, which only confuses her more.
“House parties, you know music, dancing, drinking.”

“Yes. I know,” she answers.

“Not like the party that’s going on
downstairs,” I add.

A sad look crosses her face. “I’m sorry you
had to see that.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I saw your face, Callum.”

I love the way she says my name.
Her tongue lingering on the L’s and over pronouncing the “lum”.

“You had trouble watching. I saw you look
away,” she says, her voice cracking as she utters the words.

“Of course I had trouble watching,” I say.
“Look at what they were doing to you, what they were making you do…” I pause.
“It was horrible. I am just sorry I couldn’t step in sooner.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she
winces from the pain.

“Let me take a look at your back.”

The blanket falls off her shoulders and I
curse when I see the skin where she was lashed. “Fuck.” Her usually bronze skin
is red and inflamed. The skin hasn’t broken, but it still looks painful as
hell.

I don’t notice any scars or markings from
previous parties. Her skin is perfect apart from the fresh injuries from
tonight. I wonder how long it’s been since she was last beaten, how long since
someone whipped her. Just the thought causes my hands to clench into balls.

“Let me get something for that,” I say.

As I walk toward the door I hear the soft
thud of Leila’s footsteps behind me.

“Don’t leave me.”

I spin around and look straight into eyes
that are pleading with me to stay.

“Hey.” I close the distance between us.
“I’m just going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

She looks at the door and then nods her
head for me to proceed.

“I’ll be two seconds,” I reassure her.

I open the bedroom door and take one look
back at the broken girl before me. Fuck, I feel for her, I really do, but I’m
struggling internally with my own thoughts. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is
sympathy or something else.

Leila

He comes back almost instantly. He has a
glass of water, some cream for my back and some aspirin. I down the pills
without hesitating and swallow the rest of the lukewarm water.

“Let me rub this into your back. It’s going
to hurt,” he warns, “but I’ll be gentle.”

I let the blanket fall to the floor and
stand before him as he rubs the cream into my skin gently. I take a sharp
inhale,
surprised
by the
coolness of the cream and then by the pain that follows.

“Fuck, Leila,” he lets out. “I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly, I didn’t
do
anything.”

I suck the air between my teeth as he
finishes rubbing the cream into my back. He’s gentle, his fingers moving
lightly across my skin. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I may actually be enjoying
this.

“All done.” He offers me a sympathetic
smile.

Without saying anything he wraps the
blanket around my shoulders and walks over to the nearby dresser. Opening each
draw, he sifts through its contents.

“This should do it.”

He strolls over to me cradling a pile of
clothes in his arms.

“Put these on.”

Taking the clothes from him, I eye them
curiously.

He takes a few steps and then turns to face
the wall. “You can change now. I’m not looking.”

It’s silly really. Considering what I’m
wearing there is no need for Callum to turn away, but it still brings a smile
to my face knowing he’s such a gentleman.

I
slip
out of
my ensemble, which doesn’t take long and I climb into the baggy
track pants that Callum handed me.

“Are these your clothes?” I ask.

“Yeah, from years ago,” he says. “Sorry if
they’re a bit musty, they’ve been sitting in here for a while.”

“Musty?”

He lets out a low laugh, probably at my
poor level of English. “Sorry if they smell like an old person,” he clarifies.

When I slip the oversized hoodie over my
head the pain shoots through my body even though the cream has numbed my skin
somewhat. I take in a breath and let the scent of the clothes wash over me.

“They smell nice,” I say. They smell like fabric
softener…and Callum. “Okay, I’m dressed.”

He turns at the waist and I watch his lips
turn into a smirk. “The pants are a bit big on you,” he comments.

He must have noticed the five extra inches
that are dragging on the floor.

“I don’t mind.” I smile.

He walks over to the bed and pulls back the
covers. “Get in,” he tells me.

“What?”

“Get under the covers,” he says. “Relax. You’re
staying in here tonight.”

I study his face and realize he’s serious.

“With me,” he adds.

I bite on my lip as my eyes shift to the
bedroom door. I wonder if Osborne is testing me and the ultimate punishment is
soon to follow.

“He’s not coming in here, Leila. I promise
you. Now get into bed.”

I do as I’m told, slipping under the covers
as he props two pillows behind me and tucks me in at the sides like a burrito.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his
hand toying with mine above the covers. The room is quiet, neither of us
speaking. I’m nervous as I wait for him to say something. Anything.

He brings his eyes to look at my face, they
look dark in the subtle light of the room, but they are still beautiful.

I wonder if he’s finding the moment as
intense as I am. Callum saved me tonight, something I’ve dreamed of for all
these years. He saved me in more ways than he’ll ever know.

Clearing his throat, his eyes focus on my
lips and then slowly draw up my face, past my nose and to my eyes.

“Leila,” he whispers.

I hold my breath. The way he just uttered
my name, the way he’s looking at me with such intensity, the way he just focused
on my lips longer than normal.

“Yes?” I answer in an embarrassingly husky
tone, a tone that tells him I want him.

He licks his lips. I watch his tongue run
across the soft pink surface, the sight doing things to my body that I find
impossible to deny. My nipples harden just from the sight and I feel a pull
between my legs.
Holy fuck, just kiss me.

He focuses on my lips again before he tears
his eyes away and stands up.

I can’t hide my disappointment, it’s
written all over my face. He dangled the carrot and I was ready to pounce, but now
he’s gone and I miss the contact already.

Callum paces the length of the bed as he
runs his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t give you what you want, Leila,” he
says the words so softly that I have to strain to hear them.

Play
dumb,
I tell myself.
Innocence suits you.
“Wha—What,” I stumble. “What is it that
I want?”

“Something I can’t give you,” he says
without looking at me.

My heart thumps deep in my chest, if I
concentrate, I can hear the blood thrashing through my veins.

“Why?” I half cry, half whisper.

He stops pacing and looks at me, his hands
resting on his hips. I can see his jaw working overtime as he ponders my
question.

“Leila, he is my father.” He points to the
door. “That man is my father.”

“And?” I feel the tears brimming in my
eyes.

He comes to the bed once again, sitting on the
edge, taking my hands in his as he strokes my skin tenderly.

He swallows roughly. I watch his jaw
unclench and the words tumble out of his mouth. “When you’re with me you’ll
think of him.”

I shake my head. That’s not true.

“Do I remind you of him?” he murmurs
softly.

I have
to truly think about the question,
does he remind me of his father?

I answer with certainty. “No.”

“Really?”

He doesn’t believe me.

“You are nothing like him,” I say and mean
it.

“But I am his son.” His eyes glaze over as
if he’s about to cry. He blinks and the tears are gone.

“He made you, but that doesn’t mean you’re
the same person,” I tell him. “He is a disgusting, evil man and you are nothing
like him.”

His gaze holds mine. I see it in his
eyes—the heat, the passion. Callum wants me in the same way I want him. I
close my eyes and lick my lips, waiting for him to close the distance between
us and kiss me.

I hear him take a deep intake of breath,
the air sucking between his teeth and then there is nothing. Silence greets me
like a slap in the face.

I open my eyes and he’s staring at me. He
hasn’t moved an inch, no closer to kissing me than I imagined—than I
hoped.

My breath comes in short bursts. I want
him, but I don’t think I can handle his rejection.

His eyes study my face, his lips parted
slightly.

I slump my shoulders and lean back against
the pillows. The pain from my back has subsided, superseded by a pain deep in
my chest.

“Leila,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. I get it,” I say.

I don’t get it. I don’t understand anything
in this moment, but I don’t want to set myself up for a broken heart.

He offers me a weak smile before he stands
and walks over to the other side of the bed. He slips underneath the covers
fully clothed.

“Are you sleepy? Do you want me to turn the
light off?” he asks, his voice now soft and husky.

“No, I’m not tired at all.”

It’s the truth. Sleep is the last thing on
my mind with Callum in bed next to me. I try and ignore the fact that my heart
is now racing a million miles an hour and I feel like I’m overheating, not sure
if it’s because of the oversized hoodie, or for want of a man that is just
inches away.

He lets out a long exhale bringing his
hands to rest under his head.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he says
thoughtfully. “Tell me all about Leila from Brazil.”

I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know who
I am anymore much less who I was.

“What do you want to know?” I feel my lip
quirk up at the side. A giddy feeling settles within. He wants to know more
about me.

“How many boyfriends do you have waiting for
you?”

His question makes me laugh. For the first
time in years I know what it’s like to laugh. “None,” I answer easily.

“No boyfriends?” He gives me a sideways
glance. “I don’t believe you.”

“There is only one man in my life,” I say,
letting the comment hang in the air. “My brother, Luiz.”

I feel a smile touch my lips at the thought
of my baby brother, Luizinho.

“How old is he?”

“He is ten. He was ten,” I correct myself.
“He was ten when I left. Now he would be…” I pause.

“Thirteen.” He finishes for me. “He’s in
high school,” he adds softly.

“Yes.” I smile at the thought.

“Kissing girls,” he adds cheekily.

I clasp my hand to my mouth. “No. He is
much too young for girls.”

We both chuckle, mostly because I’m in
denial.

“Does he look like you?” he asks.

“Yes, but he will be tall. A tall, handsome
gentleman.” I smile shyly. “Much like you,” I add without looking at him.

Silence falls between us and I feel my
cheeks warm. It’s not that Callum isn’t handsome. It’s just an awkward thing to
say aloud, and it obviously made him feel uncomfortable.

“Where did you live before?” I ask in an
attempt to change the subject. “You said you weren’t in this town. Where were
you?”

“I lived in Italy.”

He stops talking, that one statement, then
silence.

“What did you do in Italy?” I prompt.

“I worked as a writer.” He pauses. “As a
foreign correspondent for a U.S. newspaper.”

“Why Italy?” I feel as though I already
know the answer. The reason he would move to the other side of the world.

He sighs, stretching his legs out beneath
the covers in an attempt to get comfortable. “We’re doing this now?“ he asks, a
touch of humor in his voice. “You’re asking me twenty questions?”

I nod my head as I giggle. “You asked me
questions. Why do I not get to question you?”

“Fair enough.” He lets out a breath before
speaking again. “I met a girl here in Virginia. She was Italian and we started
dating. After a few months she moved back to Italy and I followed.”

“You loved her?” I’m surprised by my
brashness, but for some reason, I need to know.

“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Why are you not sure?”

He laughs and then playfully nudges me with
his foot. “So many questions.”

I keep my gaze fixed on him, letting him
know that I’m awaiting his answer.

He sighs loudly. “Do you know what entitled
means?”

I furrow my brow, telling him that I do not
understand the meaning.

“It’s like when you expect things to happen
for you, just because of who you are.”

I nod my head, yes.

“Well, that was Sofia. She was always so
entitled. She expected everything to happen for her just because of who she
was.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard her name and
I repeat it in my mind.
Sofia
. Such a
beautiful name and I find myself jealous of a woman I’ve never met.

 
“Do you miss her?” I hold my breath,
waiting in anticipation for his response. I don’t know why, but his answer
means something to me.

“I don’t know. I haven’t given her much
thought, so if that’s any indication then no. I guess I don’t miss her.”

He clears his throat before continuing. “At
the time, I thought she was what I needed, but in the end she was the opposite
of what I wanted. One day I woke up and realized my heart wasn’t in it, so I
ended things.”

I place my hand between us. I want to cover
his hand with mine, but my courage wavers and I pull my hand back to my own
lap.

“She was upset, no?”

He cocks his head to the side and looks at
me for a long moment. “She was, but she will be okay.”

I wonder what this Italian girlfriend looks
like.
If she’s tall like Callum and if she has beautiful blue
eyes to match his.

“My father isn’t happy that we broke up. He
liked her.” He shakes his head. “He liked her family.”

“Her family?”

“Her father was a powerful man in Italy.”