Dropping my head, completely done, I hushed out, “So there you have it. I’m the illegitimate child of my father’s slut on the side, but they had to have me, didn’t they? The fact of the matter was my father wanted to keep his assets in the family. He was expected to have children, an heir. My arrival ensured that could still happen. They paid for the whore to have me in secret. Then my folks disappeared for a year, you know, off on some bullshit cruise, and they returned with a new baby—and of course, the great billionaire’s lies were believed.”
Moving to the couch, I used it to support my weight—I hadn’t dared look Mol in the eyes during all of this shit, didn’t want to see my future slipping away. “My momma f**kin’ hates me. I’m a living, breathing reminder that my father was a cheat. But that’s not the only reason they’re like this. They expected a docile, obedient child, who, when they said jump, would ask how high. But not their letdown of a son, right? I ended up being freakishly good at sports and I had my own mind and own dreams—unacceptable for a Prince!”
The more I talked, the more the agony built back up.
“How dare I? How dare I want something for myself after they’d so selflessly taken me in? Taken me in and reminded me every minute of every f**kin’ day that I was the product of a paid f**k. Beat me until I couldn’t even hold a football, let alone throw one—if you’re injured, you can’t play, right? So my daddy made it a frequent thing, a father-son weekly tradition.”
“N-no one helped you? Figured it out?” Molly stuttered out.
The thought made me laugh. “Who’s going to take on a powerful billionaire and question why his kid flinches whenever someone touches him?
“Then to make it worse, their failure of a child is expected to enter the draft for NFL, twice, and was forced to say no, to sacrifice his dreams just in case people found out he’s not really Kathryn Prince’s biological pride and joy. The mass of skeletons must be locked up real tight!”
My voice sounded raw, all of the screaming and the emotion tearing me in two. Finally lifting my head, I stared at Molly, still rooted to the same damn spot, and walking to her, spread my arms wide—I had nothing left to give.
“So there you go, Mol. That’s why my parents hate me and why my being with you has just added to their already mountain-high disappointment of their beloved f**kin’ son.” I worked hard to keep in the tears, didn’t want to expose myself so open, but when my girl edged forward, straightening my clothes with unashamed affection, and pressed closer into my chest, I almost broke. She just made everything better.
“That’s why everyone calls you Rome, not Romeo… why you hate it so much. It reminds you of your past,” she stated, smoothing back my messy hair.
“Yeah,” I rasped out. “My birth momma said if they didn’t keep Romeo, she’d go to the media, expose the story, and they couldn’t have that, so they agreed… reluctantly. Had her sign some contract to keep quiet.”
Loving the feeling of her warm breath against my skin, I huffed. “What the hell kind of name is Romeo for the prized son of the wealthiest family in Alabama? My folks always called me Rome in public, but in private, I was Romeo. They used it as a taunt and curse. Romeo the whore’s son, Romeo the non-returnable bad gift—and they never, ever let me forget it.”
“Where did she go, your birth mother?”
My stomach churned as I thought of the woman who practically sold me off like some damn piece of meat. I used to wonder if my life would’ve been better if she’d kept me, but hell, she was just some whore, some bitter slut. Ironic really considering that’s what I’d turned into too, a whore who treats girls like crap.
I caught Mol’s expectant gaze, awaiting my response, so I shook my head and said, “Probably back to whatever hole she crawled out of.”
Sighing deep, she dropped her gaze and said quietly, “Romeo, I—”
I knew this was it, the part when she let me down gently. I wouldn’t recover from the loss.
I couldn’t deal, so thrust her out of my arms and said bitterly, “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you? I knew I’d lose you. I just knew it. Who’s going to put up with my parents’ shit? I’m not worth everything they’ll put you through if we stay together, am I?”
Flashback after flashback of my life over recent months slammed into my mind. I’d never known such happiness, and although I’d coped with a lot during my life, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it without her by my side anymore. Sometimes you just know when a person is meant for you, and I always had with her. She got me… She f**king saved me.
I could no longer control my breathing and a hollow pain burst in my stomach, causing me to slump on the sofa and, f**k, but I couldn’t stop the tears this time. The thought of her leaving reduced me to a crying friggin’ mess.
Gentle arms folded tightly around my back and chest and I flinched and tried to get away. Molly shushed me soothingly and pulled me down until my head was lying on her lap, her fingers moving to comb through my hair.
I didn’t know if it was the comfort of her touch or the enormity of all that happened tonight, but a flood of memories raced to the front of my mind: punches, hits, harsh insults, punishments… everything.
Molly was sniffing and shaking above me, and I knew she was crying too. I’d never loved her more than I did in that moment, sharing my grief, and when she lifted my face with her hands, whispering, “Romeo—” I sucked up a breath, and for the first time in my life uttered the words, “I love you… I love you,” as I stared into her golden eyes, praying she would just give me one more chance to make her happy.
“W-what?”
I lay back on the couch, suddenly exhausted, and brought my girl to lie above me, confessing, “I love you. I love you beyond anything I could’ve ever imagine was possible.”
A gamut of emotions danced across her face before it melted into what looked like relief, and she whispered, “I love you, too, babe. I love you so, so much.”
I’d never heard those words directed at me before. I love you—three little words that, up until I’d met Molly, I thought were reserved for sappy f**king films and unrealistic dreamers. But hell, hearing them from her lips made me feel alive, and I couldn’t believe she meant it. She’d been verbally torn apart because of me, thrust from her quiet life into a shitstorm.