Broken by His Hand - Piper Stone Page 0,66
check on our businesses, but I haven’t been here in years.”
“Why?”
Shrugging, he dropped his head for a few seconds, enough to tell me that there was a story hiding behind his brooding eyes. “Let’s just say too many memories.”
“Ah, a woman.”
“Let it go, Sophia. Who we were in the past no longer matters.”
“I disagree. Everything that happens in our pasts alters our future. Good and bad.”
“Hmmm,” he huffed. “Okay, then what changed you? What made you decide on medicine?”
I realized that neither one of us were prepared to talk about our respective pasts. “Maybe we need to change the subject.”
“We all have secrets. That was the very reason my father remained in the business.”
“Sometimes they aren’t secrets, Michael. Sometimes, it’s all about pain that we’ve had to endure.”
“Not with my father. The legacy as you coined appropriately was about control.”
“You’re certain of that? Did your grandfather or father ever explain the exact reason?” I asked as we waited for the pedestrian sign to change.
He took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose. “Not in so many words, but as I told you, times were brutal back then. There were more criminals that there were law-abiding citizens at one point, at least according to my grandfather. Unfortunately, I can’t ask the reason why nor does it reflect on the way the club is being handled today.”
“So, no secrets are being sold to the highest bidder?” I teased, instantly able to tell the subject also bothered him.
“That isn’t any way to run a business. Have I used certain information to ensure a level of control over the club? Yes. Would I do it again? Absolutely. But I’m not into making millions of dollars on exploiting people.”
“That’s good to know. I don’t think I would want to associate with anyone of that nature.”
“Associate. I’m not certain I like that word.”
I found myself shifting away from him, glancing in the window of one of the shops. The jewelry store reminded me of something out of a movie, the expensive pieces in the window likely costing more than I made in two months. I could see his reflection in the window as he hovered behind me, remaining quiet as I studied the beautiful creations. For some reason, I felt like opening up to him. “My parents had very little money, but they did their best to provide for us. I was the dreamer, pretending to be a princess. Yes, you’re learning a little secret. I was a girlie girl. I even had the pink bedroom. Garish pink, I might add. I believed in fairytales where the prince rode up on his beautiful horse to find the princess of his choice.”
“Pink doesn’t fit you at all,” he said, laughing.
“You’re right. Don’t ever purchase anything pink.” I gave him a look before turning my attention back to one piece in particular. I pressed my hand against the window, studying the choker.
“That would make a beautiful collar.”
“Collar?”
“For an incredible woman who decides to surrender. Only a magnificent creation deserves to be around your neck.”
I was taken aback by his words. How could he ever think I’d want to be collared by anyone? “That’s not going to happen, Michael. I’m not that kind of a woman.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Sophia. That’s exactly the kind of woman you crave becoming, if only you’ll allow your guard to fall.”
My guard. I realized once again that he was used to getting everything he wanted in life. He could snap his fingers and the world would open up to him. I attempted to curtail my anger, realizing that that’s the life he’d led. I bit back a retort and refused to acknowledge the comment.
“Anyway,” I said with an edge, “we never had expensive clothes or cars when we graduated, but we had love. Oh, did we have so much love. Maybe that’s why I’m still uncomfortable around money, although I’ve heard that buys happiness.”
“And you know it not to be true. Don’t you?”
I turned to face him, rubbing my hands against his chest, the scent of his leather jacket filling my nostrils. “You look good in leather.”
“I bet you do too.” He tipped his head, whispering, “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I had the car at sixteen and all the expensive toys, but there was little love, at least from my father. I would prefer the little house with the picket fence, lots of kids, and the joy of knowing love.”
He seemed startled after issuing the statement, his breathing ragged.
I knew better