Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (58 page)

“Faith has daddy issues,” Stanton says and it hurt
s me inside. “It will turn to sex- it’s the psychology of it. I don’t want her feeling badly about herself afterwards.”

“I control my dick, Stan- not you!”

“They’re so much alike,” Stan says, and I start hysterically crying.

“NO, THEY ARE NOT!”
Grant bellows in a voice that curdles my blood. “If you ever insinuate that again, I will rip your fucking head off,” Grant spits.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

Julio puts a hand on my chest and pushes me up against the wall, to the side of the door. Julio’s beefy hand holds me in place so I can’t attack that room like a violent, town destroying tornado. He cracks the door open and says in a friendly voice, “You guys better cool it before you give Roman a heart attack- mustn’t hurt that healing ticker!”

“Shit!” “Christ!” and a “Did… she… just hear… them?” flow from the room.

“Boss, you have a shit load of apologizes and ass kissing to do when you get home. I’ll take care of our girl… and an upset Syn is never pleasant. Don’t kill each other. Later,” Julio says, firmly shutting the door to the now quiet hospital room.

“Girl, you got some man troubles brewing,” Julio gripes as he pulls me to walk beside him. “Not sure how you got yourself
into this situation. Stanton thinks your boy, Grant, is sniffing around you.”

“I don’t care,” I
angrily sniffle- violence displacing the pain in my chest.

“How can you not care?” Julio says in disbelief.

“If Stanton thinks I’m like
her
, how can he ever love me?”

~Chapter Forty-Eight~

“So pretty,” Bianca sings, twirling in a circle. My beautiful sister is more than pretty, but I don’t want her to think that is the most important thing
in life. It’s what messed up our mother and our oldest sister. There is more to life than man-pleasing looks and a lady-like decorum.

“Bianca, look at me,
princess,” I say to draw her attention. She is practicing pirouettes while staring in my bathroom’s floor-length mirror. With every precise turn, her eyes spot their mirror image. “What do you want to do when you grow up?” I ask as I pull her to a stop.

“I want to dance, silly,” she teases me, pulling on one of her
honey-brown ringlets. Bianca wanted to be pretty for Uncle Caleb. The newly eight-year-old girl hasn’t seen Caleb since six months ago at Christmas. Bianca is excited and proud because she’s older and a half inch taller.

“You know that dancing isn’t just about being pretty, right?” I coax while straightening the skirt of her purple dress. She wanted to wear a dress that matched the highlights in my hair. 

“Dance is hard work, dedication, and endurance,” Bianca parrots her instructor. “Dance is graceful, not pretty,” the tiny child schools me. The fire in her eyes calms my nerves. She’s more like me than Fate. Those eyes might be as warm and brown as Stanton’s, but that sure does look like the fire that blazes from mine… or maybe Stanton’s eyes. It’s not the helpless or psychotic look that Fate and Gwen project.

“Good,” I say, pleased. “I just want you to know
you
are the most important person in your life. Never change yourself for a man.”

“The older girls in my class are always fighting over Philip. I think that’s silly.” Bianca makes a yucky sound, squishing her cheeks out and grimacing. I sigh in relief that she’s yet
to see the appeal of the thirteen-year-old dance god. I’ve even watched the dancing toddlers chase after that poor boy for the past three months.

“Daddy says I never have to worry about boys, ‘cuz he already
picked a boy out for me. I just need to do my school work and practice.” My ass lands on the toilet seat in stunned mortification. My legs wouldn’t hold me up any longer. I’d forgotten about the Fontaine or Marconi boy, whichever-
shit
!

“Daddy says that he w
ill take care of me so I can do what I love. He said little girls shouldn’t worry about money and stuff- that if they have a good daddy, he will provide and protect them.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Stanton,” I groan. “It sounds amazing right now. I’ll be here for you when that old school shit blows up in your daddy’s face,” I laugh to myself, confusing my sister.

“What?” Bianca gives me an offended expression that is so cute that I bark a laugh. “My boyfriend’s name is Dalton. I have his picture and daddy tells me stuff about him. He’s really pretty. What more could I want?” Her delicate shoulders shrug in indifference and absolute trust in her daddy.

“Oh, Bianca,” I sigh.
So much more than that
, I want to say. But she won’t understand until years from now. This is going to explode in Stanton’s face, because I’m going to make this motherfucking sexist shit not work. Daddy thinks he can train and brainwash his daughter- beware of the big sister’s fierce feminism.

“Can I curl your hair so you’re pretty for Uncle Caleb, too?” Bianca’s sweet voice fills the bathroom. I roll my eyes because she totally missed the poin
t of this entire conversation. We’ll keep having it until I drill it into her tiny skull.

“No, princess,” I sing. “You need to shine today. Caleb will be so happy to see you.”

I brushed my hair, washed my face, and made sure my clothes were clean- that’s all the mini-Stanton is getting from me. I have no need to impress the boy. When I think of Caleb, Cortez fills my mind: that smarmy, womanizing grin and that cunning mind that is calculating the easiest path to get into your panties, while seductive lips spew utter bullshit to get what they want. The boy every dumbass teenage girl swoons over, and apparently most of the grown women in the tri-state area, judging by the notches on Cort’s bedpost. I feel like whatever friendship we had was just lies, and then I see Ez’s heartbroken expression as Cortez flits and flirts- I hate men like Cortez Abernathy because I can’t respect them. Alright, I sound bitter…

I’ve been extra ornery since Stanton’s outburst in Roman’s hospital room two weeks ago.
The thought of impressing a man makes me physically ill.

I’m not Gwen!

“C’mon,” Bianca squeals, “I hear the elevator.” She runs from my bathroom like her ass is on fire. “They’re here. They’re here!” she chirps while skipping to the elevator door.

I pretend I’m not curious
and excited. I lean a hip on the side of the sofa and mask my expression with boredom. I hood my eyes and frown. I’ve learned no one thinks it’s odd if a teenager looks bored out of their skull. I’m never bored, lonely yes, but never bored. I’m too busy watching and learning. Since I found out that Stanton is silently judging my every breath, I’ve perfected the mask of a brooding, bitchy teenage girl. I can’t have Stanton thinking I’m a slut or a deviant or the evil spawn of Gwen. Now Stanton thinks I’m borderline cutter material and he’s hid anything with a sharp edge.

Stanton’s tried to talk to me about what he said
to Grant and Roman in the hospital room, but I ignore him and walk away. He hurt me twice with one statement. He thinks I’m just like my mother, that I will seduce Grant. That even pissed me off for Grant- like Grant actually wants me or some shit, or that he’s too stupid to fend me off. It also hurt that Stan said I had daddy issues, like I’ll turn into a cat in heat at the first sign of affection. I don’t want Stan like that. It makes me wonder if Stanton doesn’t hug me very often because he thinks I’m going to hit on him. Knowing that Stanton thinks such bad thoughts about me leaves me feeling dirty on the inside.

Stanton’s been gone for the past five days for Caleb’s graduation from Military school
, and I miss him something fierce. I fight the urge to run up to the doors screaming
Daddy’s home
, too.

Military graduations are
huge affairs. I thought Caleb was in one of those bad kid camps, but nothing could be farther from the truth. It was an express pass to the top level placements within the military. Stanton and Caleb, their mom and step-dad, and their four baby siblings had three days’ worth of events scheduled. It was Bianca’s last week of second grade, so I took care of her, and Julio took over my vigil at the hospital.

With Stanton gone and Julio with Roman, it’s allowed me some freedom, since I didn’t have a babysitter or over-protective guardian on my ass. But I still had to go to work at The Black Death and Morretti’s, with the many watching eyes of Stanton’s employees. The only real freedom I had was walking down the street, but usually Bianca’
s hand was in mine, so I was still trapped and tethered to something.

A fluttery feeling tickles my chest when the doors open. I don’t want to smile but I do. Stanton looks at me in relief, like he feared I wouldn’t be here or maybe that I’
d ruined his Stepford-daughter while he was gone. I expect Stanton to pick up a squealing Bianca and give her a squeeze, but he pats her head on his way by and walks over to me. I don’t even get a glimpse of Caleb because Bianca corners him in the elevator. A deep, masculine chuckle overpowers her giggles.

“Hey,” I say
, sounding bashful.

“Hey,” Stanton awkwardly grunts a nanosecond before I’m engulfed in a huge hug. “I’ll say I’m sorry again, but you won’t forgive me. At least you’re no longer glaring daggers at me anymore.”

“Ah, so that’s why you look relieved to see me since I’m no longer plotting your imminent demise,” I breathlessly gasp since Stanton is squeezing the air out of me. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” Stanton gives me another forceful squeeze causing my breath to wheeze out. “I’m glad to be home. My family
is chaotic when they’re all together in confined spaces. I’m glad to be on my own turf with my girls and my boy.” Stan steps away while bashfully brushing the brown curls off his forehead. For a second he looks like a little boy, not a thirty-year-old control freak.

A small gasp flows between my lips when I meet Caleb’s curious gaze. I expected a playboy the likes of Cort, but what I get is someone more my speed- intense. Caleb looks like the boy next door- as in the boys in West Virginia next door,
not the hoodlum down the block. Caleb has a brush cut, tan skin, and light blue eyes. He’s not very tall. Caleb takes my breath away, and not because I’m crushing on him. Caleb is powerful and intense- a killing machine warrior.

Caleb
is someone that Wil would love to befriend. I can easily see Wil, Boyd, and Caleb being best friends. And now I understand why Caleb got along with Ezra but hated Cortez. He’s too serious for the charming fakery.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caleb,” I cordially say, surprising both Stanton and Bianca. The look in Caleb’s eye earned my
instant respect.

Caleb’s lips twitch up at the corners. He extends his hand for a shake and I dec
ide he’s amazing. Only one boy has shaken my hand in the past year, and he was my baby brother.

“Call me Gunner,” his deep voice flows as his hand loosely cups mine. “They only get away with the Caleb shit because no matter how many times I tell them to call me Gunner, they ignore me.”

“Oh, yeah…” I commiserate. “Bianca refuses to call me anything other than my birth name and I’ve even legally changed my name. Half the time Stanton messes it up.”

“See,” Gunner says to Stanton and Bianca, dropping my hand. “Syn gets it. Why can’t you guys? Stan embarrassed the shit out of me with the guys over the past few days.”

“Where’d the nickname come from?” Stan actually gasps, that is huge a reaction from a man who is always in control, and it’s all because I’m carrying on a conversation for the first time in weeks. Stanton isn’t a fan of my silent treatment.

“Gunny seemed overplayed, so I went with Gunner. It’s short for Gunnery Sergeant. It’s what I’m training to become. I plan to lead a company of men someday.” The pride in his deep voice humbles me. I barely know what I want to eat for breakfast, and here is Gunner, already planning the rest of his life.

“Wow,” I breathe in awe.

“Christ,” Stanton snorts. “I knew you guys would get along. I’d worried your conversations would be a series of grunts and nodding, but I knew you wouldn’t kill one another- I feared you’d kill everyone else, though,” Stanton says in a teasing lilt, but he’s not teasing. Stanton pushed Gunner to the military when he exhibited violent tendencies. I’ve never found out what those te
ndencies were exactly.

Gunner eyes me, almost as if he can see the blood staining my hands
and it binds us.

Gunner curls his lips into a slight smile again.
“Is she old enough to go to the range?” he asks Stanton.

“Yeah, Cynthia Brooks is nineteen,” Stan gruffly answers. That was a fight to the death. My new identity was necessary so that no one co
uld pinpoint my exact location. Stan wanted to make me younger. Since I already had a job and a GED, younger was out of the question. I purposely asked for twenty-one so when we compromised I’d be over eighteen.

“Range?” My voice rises in curiosity.

“Gun range- I’ll need to keep practicing for boot camp. How old are you really?” Gunner takes off his jacket, displaying a gray t-shirt stretched over his taut chest. A heady chuckle draws my eyes up- he caught me checking him out. I blush, wanting to explain that I wasn’t looking at him like that- I just wanted to know if I could take him.