Raymond's POV
I had gone upstairs earlier to check on Lena when I saw her trying to run away from me. The sight infuriated me—I almost lost control.
The fear in her eyes when I threatened to kill any man who came close to her was unmistakable.
That was the last thing I wanted. I never wanted her to be scared of me, but if fear was what it took to keep her by my side, then so be it.
I didn't even know when my protectiveness over her began.
I wasn't sure if I loved her, but one thing I knew for certain was that I wanted her—desperately.
Ever since that passionate night with her, I craved more. And I wasn't letting her go until I was satisfied.
I went into my study and brought out the documents I wanted her to sign once she came downstairs for breakfast. I had prepared them the night before, after deciding to make her my woman.
I had been with countless women, and not one of them had I ever brought into my home or thought of keeping.
She was the only woman I had allowed to wake up beside me the next morning.
I instructed Bertha to prepare breakfast while I made a call.
My phone had been buzzing nonstop, so I finally picked it up.
"Good day, Raymond," Liam greeted.
"How are you doing, Liam?"
"I'm fine, Raymond," he replied. He only called me boss when we were at the office or when I was in a foul mood.
Liam went on to give me a rundown of my appointments for the day. He also updated me on the company's general activities and the progress of each project.
When he was done, I told him to take care of things at the company for the next four days.
Not long after, Lena came downstairs wearing one of my white shirts. She looked beautiful—soft, vulnerable—but her eyes were suspicious and wary.
I couldn't blame her, considering what I had said to her upstairs.
"Come here," I said, stretching out my hand to her.
Surprisingly, she didn't resist.
When she reached me, I pulled her onto my lap, held her face, and kissed her deeply. When I finally pulled away, she was gasping for air.
I loved how she could be sexy and beautiful at the same time. Every glance at her made me want her, but not now. I would wait until she was fully healed before taking her again.
She slid off my lap angrily and went to sit on a chair. I was mesmerized by how charming she looked when she was upset, but I didn't let it show. I maintained the calm gaze I had perfected over the years.
"You cannot just kiss me whenever you like," she said. "I'm not your woman, and I'm not your wife. You can't keep me here against my will."
I didn't respond. Instead, I asked the questions that had been weighing on my mind.
"Tell me, Lena—why does your father hate you so much? And why does he treat Ashley better than you?"
I saw the pain flash in her eyes, but I wanted to hear it from her.
"I don't know why he hates me," she said softly. "He used to love me—he loved me so much—until he changed three years ago. That was after my mother died."
I hummed, urging her to continue, resting my jaw on my hand as I listened.
"All I know is that my mother fell ill and was rushed to the hospital. When I got there, I saw her with our family lawyer. They were having a serious discussion, but I didn't know what it was about."
She inhaled deeply, trying to stop herself from crying before she continued.
"Soon, my mother called me in. She held my hands and apologized—over and over—for not protecting me enough. She said she was sorry for all the pain she had caused me… and for the pain she might cause me in the future."
"I was confused," she said, tears streaming down her face. "I kept telling her she had done nothing wrong. All she ever did was love and cherish me."
"She kept saying she was sorry until she passed away a few seconds later. Everything happened so fast. I never even knew she was sick."
"I ran out to call the doctor, and he told me her heart had been failing for over a year. She only had days to live when she was brought in."
"I later found out my father never visited her—not once. The only person who stayed with her throughout her time in the hospital was her lawyer."
"I confronted my father because I knew he loved my mother… and me. But I will never forget what he said to me that day."
By then, she was breaking down completely.
My heart clenched. I lifted her from the chair and held her close, kissing her hair while rubbing her back to soothe her.
Instead, she cried harder, burying her face in my chest. I felt her tears soak into my shirt, her sobs shaking her body—but I didn't care. I could always change clothes.
"Stop crying, kitten," I murmured. "He doesn't deserve your tears."
When she finally began to calm, I spoke again. "Can you finish your story now, or would you rather tell me later?"
She nodded. When she realized I was still waiting for an answer, she whispered, "I'll tell you later."
She held onto me tightly, as if I were her lifeline. It made me wonder if she was always this fragile.
I was still holding my little kitten, thinking about how to make her stronger, when Bertha began arranging the table for breakfast.
It looked like another full spread.
When Bertha finished, I picked up a spoon and began feeding Lena myself. She resisted at first, but one look from me made her comply.