Chapter Two
Milan
"Please leave," I growl at Justice, even though I know he won't listen to me. He never does.
"No." The simple word rolls from his lips as if he's put his whole soul into uttering it just to piss me off. It wouldn't surprise me if he did.
Justice Foster is my own personal ghost. I know this because he haunts my every waking moment, tangling my heart and mind into snarls that tighten the more I struggle. He's bossy and infuriating. He's also the sexiest man I've ever met…and the only one I've ever wanted.
He's in his early forties, with a touch of silver in his hair and the devil in his dark eyes. He's tall and broad, beautiful in the same way fallen angels are. That heavenly exterior hides an entire world of secrets and sin. I see them staring out from his eyes, luring me with visions I shouldn't have.
His secrets are Siren song, tempting me to ensnare myself in his dark web. And just like Odysseus, I find myself drawing a little bit closer every single time I set eyes on him. I want to belong to him so badly it's terrifying.
A whole flock of birds dance in my stomach when he looks at me. My heart lodges itself in my throat. He makes me vulnerable in a way I've never been for anyone else. I want things from him I shouldn't. Dream about things that should shame me but don't.
Even before it was possible, I ached for him and the comfort of his embrace. He's the devil, but the only thing I see when I look at him is salvation.
It's infuriating!
He's autocratic, demanding…dangerous. People say he made his billions doing horrible things. I know he kept Ainsley under lock and key, not letting anyone get too close to her. Not letting her experience the world. She was suffocating in his care, but he didn't even notice it. Or maybe he did and didn't care.
Either way, that should have convinced me to stop thinking about him, to stop wanting him. It didn't. Because underneath all of that, I know the kind of man he is. I know he changed his entire life to keep Ainsley safe. I know he adores her. I know he's the reason my dad showed up to my eighteenth birthday relatively sober. He thinks I don't know he's the one who dragged him back here from Greece, but I do.
I also know he still has nightmares about what happened to Ainsley's parents. I hear him crying out into the dark, pleading for forgiveness, when I stay with Ainsley. It takes everything I have not to go to him and hold him through it. I cry with him. He doesn't know that. I think it would hurt him to know how often I've stood in witness to his private pain.
Justice keeps everyone at arm's length. Including me. He goes out of his way to avoid me.
I hate it.
People think I'm a spoiled little princess because my father tries to make up for being a bad parent with expensive gifts and lavish trips. They say I'm a brat without even knowing me. They're wrong. I don't need expensive gifts or fancy trips. I don't even want them. All I want is Justice. He looks at me and I want to misbehave, just to see what he'll do. Just to mess up his neatly ordered existence.
No one tells Justice what to do. No one stands up to him. No one disagrees with him. They give him whatever he wants simply because they're cowards, too afraid to risk his wrath. I'm not afraid of him or his reputation. He doesn't scare me.
I like the way he looks at me as if he wants to spank me when I challenge him. I taunt him every time we're in the same room because I can't help it. He's been driving me crazy for years, making me ache to feel his arms around me, to know what it would be like to be his in every way.
I want to rattle him like he does me.
I want him to ache like he makes me ache.
Just once, I want him to let me in.
He thinks he's got me all figured out, but he doesn't. He thinks he sees me, but he doesn't. If he did, he'd know that I've been in love with him since I was sixteen. He'd know that I've never dated anyone because no one compares to him. He'd know that it's his name I whisper in the dark when I touch myself. His name and the one I say even though I shouldn't.
Daddy.
The things I want from Justice…he doesn't know those things. He can't ever know those things. So I piss him off and push his buttons and fight him every step of the way. Because that's far easier than seeing revulsion in those dark eyes. It's easier than him taking Ainsley away from me.
Ironic, considering he kind of did that anyway. I'm here, and Ainsley is out there on her own, living her best life for the first time ever. I already miss her, but it doesn't matter what Justice says or does to me, I won't betray her. I'll fight for her even if it means fighting him because she deserves freedom.
He's kept her locked away far too long. It's time he realizes that she isn't a little girl anymore.
It's time he realizes I'm not either.
"I don't want your guard dogs here, Justice," I say, trying to put space between us.
He stalks me across my bedroom, refusing to let me get too far away from him. I don't know what game he's playing at, but I wait until he's practically on top of me and then dodge to the right to go around him. I don't even make it two steps before his arms close around me.
I want to lean into him, press my body against his and breathe in that smoky amber scent that haunts me every time I step through his front door. I resist him instead, struggling to get away before I do something embarrassing and throw myself at him. He's been holding me at arm's length for the last year. I think it might actually break me to be rejected outright by him. So I avoid it at all costs.
"Stop fighting me before I spank you," he growls, his lips so close to my ear I feel his breath dance across my lobe and into my soul.
An earthquake starts in my belly, shaking loose a tsunami of need. I want him to spank me.
"Don't tell me what to do." I struggle against his hold anyway, trying not to whimper his name. It's hard though. He's all I've wanted for so damn long. Feeling his arms around me, even if he's only touching me to keep me still, is heaven and hell at the same time.
I've been alone for most of my life. My father was madly in love with my mom. When she died, something inside of him broke. He can't stand being near me because I look like her. So he stays as far from me as he can, desperately trying to assuage his guilt with his checkbook and exorcise memories of my mom with alcohol and escorts. I raised myself with the help of the staff he hired to fill our house.
When I was old enough, he sent me to boarding school until I got myself kicked out for fighting. I didn't mean to do it, but Jayme Peters was telling everyone that I wasn't going home for Christmas because my dad hated me. When I confronted her, she pushed me, so I punched her. Her friends lied and said I started it. I didn't argue. There wasn't any point.
I've been alone ever since, with no one but the cook and groundskeeper to keep me company. I can't remember the last time someone other than Ainsley touched me…except for Willis when he tried to cuff me today, anyway. My point is, Justice touching me is like waving a bottle of tequila in front of an addict trying to go cold turkey.
It's bound to end in disaster.