Seduced By The Boss. Natalie Anderson

‘No illegal activities. You’re not much of a crim then are you?’

      ‘Sophy.’ He so didn’t need the sarcasm right now.

      She didn’t stop. ‘Have you ever been back in court?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘So what’s the problem?’ She folded her arms and eyeballed him. ‘My father believes in justice, Lorenzo. You had a problem. Did some things you shouldn’t have. You did your hours of community service or whatever. Put the wrong right. And he got you into a place that would actually help you. It’s finished. Behind you.’

      ‘He wouldn’t see it like that.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      ‘I just do, all right?’ She was so naïve. ‘Do you really think he’d be okay with what I’m doing with you?’

      ‘Well—’ her colour deepened ‘—I don’t think he’d want to know any intimate kind of details about anyone I’m with but—’

      ‘No father wants a man like me to be with his daughter. No father.’

      She lifted her head. ‘Someone’s said that before?’

      ‘More than once,’ he exaggerated. ‘Not good enough.’

      ‘You need to lose the chip, Lorenzo,’ she said coolly. ‘Anyway—’ she lifted her head proudly ‘—I don’t live with them. I’m grown up. I make my own choices. I can see whoever I want.’

      ‘You say that but we both know that what your family thinks means everything to you. You’ve been tied up in knots for weeks over what they’d think of your work. What they think of your lover would be even worse.’ He watched her swallow. Knew he’d scored a hit.

      ‘You’re making far too much of something that happened for ever ago. And even if it did bother Dad initially, it wouldn’t be a problem once he got to know you now.’

      ‘You just don’t get it. I am not the kind of person who should be with you.’

      ‘What kind of person do you think you are? Because I know you. And I know—’

      ‘You don’t know me,’ he interrupted. ‘You’ve got no idea, Sophy.’

      ‘Tell me, then,’ she shouted back.

      ‘Tell you what, Sophy? The ugly truth? How rough it was? How rough I am?’

      ‘Yeah.’ Her anger flared. ‘Why not tell me some more clichés—the abused-boy stories.’

      His vision burst with red. ‘What would you know about it? Having to be taken away from your own parents because of the way they treated you? Your father saying you should have been the scum in an abortionist’s bucket?’

      Sophy recoiled.

      ‘Oh, that was nothing, darling,’ he sneered. ‘That was just words and not even the worst. Wait ’til you hear the rest.’

      ‘Lorenzo, I’m sor—’

      He shouted over her. ‘I was beaten for answering him wrong, for not answering soon enough, for not answering at all. It didn’t matter what I did, it happened anyway. With fists, sticks, belts—whatever he had to hand. I wasn’t wanted by him, wasn’t protected by her, and I wasn’t wanted by anyone else after. I’d go to a new house, a new home. Meet a new family. Again and again.’ He was shaking, bunched his fists to try to stop the uncontrollable jerking of his hands.

      ‘Lorenzo, please—’

      His sharp gesture shut her up.

      He took a step backwards down the hall, away from her as his agony boiled over. ‘You think you can possibly know about it? I sought approval, Sophy. I tried. I would have done anything to make it okay. And I tried everything. But it never worked. It was me that was wrong—every time. So I stopped trying so hard. Because every time it was the same. Too difficult. Out of control. Angry. I always stuffed up. Labels stick, so why bother trying? Because in the end you know they don’t want you anyway. They never want you.’

      ‘I want you,’ she whispered.

      It made him incensed. ‘No, you don’t.’

      ‘I do.’ She walked after him.

      ‘You like the sex,’ he yelled, taking more steps back. ‘This is just an excursion for you. As hard core as you’ve ever gotten. Your ride with the bad boy. In another week you’ll be over it. Go back to someone perfect, Sophy. Someone from the right background, who’ll fit into your perfect family.’

      ‘My family aren’t perfect.’

      He laughed then. ‘Oh yeah? Your parents love you. You think they don’t but of course they do. They call you all the time, you do things for them all the time. It wouldn’t matter what you do, Sophy, no matter how awful, they’ll still love you, they’ll always love you. But no matter what I did, mine never loved me. And you know the result?’ His throat hurt as he hurled the truth out. ‘I’m damaged, Sophy. Treat someone like an animal and they become an animal. And there’s no changing that.’ That was what her father knew too. ‘You have no idea of the rage I can feel. I frighten myself. And I refuse to frighten you.’

      He stopped, breathing hard. He couldn’t stay in control of anything around her. And it terrified him.

      ‘You don’t frighten me, Lorenzo.’

      ‘I can’t control it,’ he said flatly, admitting the worst. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

      ‘You’re hurting me now.’

      He shook his head. No, he was protecting her.

      ‘I love you, Lorenzo. Let me love you.’

      ‘No one can love me.’ He denied her—he had to. ‘And I can’t love. I won’t.’ His back was right up against the door now. ‘I can’t be part of any kind of family. I tried. And I failed every single time. I won’t try again, Sophy. Not even for you.’

      ‘You don’t have to. It can just be me, Lorenzo.’

      He turned and opened the door. ‘It can’t,’ he said heavily. ‘You know it can’t. You want it all—and you should have it. The nice guy who loves you, who’ll stand at the barbie and talk sport with your father, who’ll be a good father to your babies.’ He looked over his shoulder at her. ‘What the hell kind of dad would I make?’ The knife dug deep in his heart and he screwed his eyes tight against the pain. ‘I don’t need it. Don’t want it. Not happening. Not ever happening.’ He stood in the open doorway, the cold pre-dawn air chilling the hall. ‘I’m sorry I manhandled you tonight. You were right. It’s over.’

      Sophy cried. Curled into a ball in the hall and sobbed her heart out. So ironic, wasn’t it, that the ‘perfect’ boyfriend had only wanted her for the kudos he could get from her family, while the one she loved wanted nothing to do with her because of them—at least in part? After an age she moved, sat staring at the dining table for hours, barely seeing the pattern in the wood as the conversation circled in her head. And her anger with him grew.

      Coward. The selfish, bitter coward.

      Yet she hurt so much for him—the hell he’d been through. He’d missed out on so much. As a result he didn’t understand love. And she wanted to help him understand it. She had to talk to him again, had to show him. Somehow she had to get through to him—or at least try.

      By the time she summoned the courage it was after nine the next morning. He was out the back of the warehouse already. He was in jeans, but had no tee on, hadn’t shaved. He’d been at it for a while because his body was gleaming. But he didn’t stop bouncing the ball. Didn’t stop to look at her.

      ‘You’re wrong, Lorenzo. You know you’re wrong.’

      He said nothing.