“A women’s shelter?” Scar asked, turning his attention down to me. I hadn’t told him about my plans, the tentative beginning of them coming into focus more and more with each passing day. Even Sadie only knew the barest details.
“Would the women feel safe with a gym on the property?” Sadie asked. “I know the defense courses will be happening as well, but we’re still likely to have a large male population. It is a boxing gym to pay the bills.”
“I think it will be fine as long as we offer some form of separation. A fence and locked gate or something between the two structures,” I said, pulling the property map from my purse at my side and laying it out on the hood of the SUV beside me. I rummaged through the unorganized, overcrowded bag to find a pencil, drawing on the map itself where a building and fence would go.
“A women’s shelter?” Scar repeated, his hand coming down on top of mine as I focused on the plans. “When were you intending to tell me about this?”
“I’m telling you now,” I said with a sigh, knowing from our brief conversations in passing that he dreaded the day I returned to work. He knew it needed to happen, had understood my job was something that mattered before everything happened with me.
He'd come around eventually. He didn’t have a choice.
“Butterfly,” he said, staring at me intently. “We should talk about this. You don’t need any more responsibilities on your plate. Fresh Start already takes everything you have.”
“I’ll hire another assistant,” I said, compromising with a smile.
“Or six,” Sadie muttered, earning a glare from me. I knew I drove the woman mad with my rapid-fire discussion and questions about the property and the plans we could have for it.
Planning something new made me manic.
“We’ll have a therapy center on site, and housing for women who are in transition and need a safe place to land. We can work in more outpatient services and maybe a rehabilitation center over time,” I said, pointing at the large building.
“A rehabilitation center?” Scar asked, his throat working as he swallowed. I turned to study him, touching a hand to his chest as I tilted my head to the side.
“You’d be amazed how many sexual abuse survivors turn to drugs or alcohol for relief. Having a safe place to detox could save their life. Accidental overdose—” I broke off the moment Scar’s lips crashed down on mine.
The firm press of his mouth nearly bruised my lips with how roughly he devoured me, uncaring about the audience watching us in shock.
“I wouldn’t be all that amazed, Butterfly,” he said, reaching forward to wrap his fingers around the charm I never took off. The knowledge of how little I knew about Scar’s past and the original owner of the necklace threatened to consume me, but I shoved it down and smiled up at him.
That was a conversation for another place and another time, when people weren’t watching and I had even the faintest chance of getting him to open up to me.
Sadie prattled on, discussing the logistics for the property and asking me how long I thought it would take to build. For a normal person, we’d probably have a good year before we could be up and running.
But for the Bellandis and Irina Ryan?
They’d have it ready in six months.
“You okay?” I asked, nudging Madison with my hip as we stared out at the property that would become so much more.
At what would become my legacy.
“Yeah,” she said, turning a smile my way. “Just distracted with school stuff. I don’t know how you manage to have all these plans in your head all the time. I can’t even get through Algebra II.” She laughed, easing the tension I felt that something was troubling her at school.
“Are you sure?” I asked, giving her another chance to talk to me. After what had happened to Zachariah, I couldn’t afford to miss something again. I didn’t want to pry, but just hoping she would come to me wasn’t enough, either.
The balance seemed impossible, because I knew what it was like to have things I wasn’t ready to talk about too.
“I’m sure,” she said, smiling up at me so widely that I had to sigh.
Being a girl on the edge of womanhood was hard.
I showered, drenching my hair in the water with my head tipped back. Scar had promised to join me in a few minutes, but the shower remained conspicuously empty.
He always showered with me, sliding his naked body as close to mine as he could manage.
Always got on his knees before me and made me cry out his name before standing and letting me return the favor. It had become part of our routine, something I very much looked forward to every day.
More like twice a day. Showers were frequent in our lives; a point of safety for me.
There was no desk to remind me of the hard press of wood at my spine. The space was too closed in for me to feel the phantom eyes of men watching, men who would touch and take if their boss only allowed it.
There was just us—cleansed of the dirt from the day and washing our sins down the drain as we drank from one another.
I finished rinsing the conditioner from my hair, wondering what could possibly keep him away. Knowing what happened in the shower, I would be damned if I missed a single one for the rest of my life.
I could live with his handsome face between my legs, soaking up every moment of pleasure he wrung from my body.
I turned the water off, wrapping a towel around my hair and patting it dry before I stepped out of the shower and dried the water from my skin. “Scar?” I called, padding on bare feet over the tiles of the bathroom. Poking my head out the bathroom door, I stared at Scar where he paced back and forth in the bedroom.
His eyes came to me the moment I stepped into the room, rubbing the towel over my hair gently. “Butterfly,” he said, his eyes heating the moment they landed on my naked body.
“What are you doing?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I felt suddenly self-conscious. Something about his posture was uncertain, raising all the alarm in my body.
“Come take off my belt,” he said, the order rumbling through me. Being naked with Scar in the shower felt safe. Being naked, with him dressed, in the bedroom was somehow different.
I shook my head, pursing my lips as I did. “I don’t know if I can.”
“It’s just me, Iri. Do you trust me?” he asked, and the knowledge that I did filled me. I stepped closer to him, dropping my hands to his belt buckle and pulling the leather through. “All the way.”
I tugged it free from his belt loops, the sound of the rough leather sliding over his slacks carrying through the bedroom. He took it from me, stepping away the moment it was free and moving toward the bed. He twisted the belt in his hands, wrapping it one way and then the other so quickly that I couldn’t follow the motions. When he was finished, they formed a figure eight that resembled handcuffs.
He dropped them on the bed while I swallowed audibly, shaking my head and trying to shove down the surge of fear within me. Surely, he couldn’t think to tie me up.
I’d never survive. Already, panic made my lungs heave.
“They’re for me, Butterfly,” he said softly, stripping the shirt off over his head and shoving his pants down his legs. I glanced over at the bedpost next to where he’d dropped his makeshift handcuffs, finding another belt wrapped around it tightly.