Page 52 of The Strength Of A Woman

“Huh?” I murmur, dragged back to reality.

“When did you talk to Julian?”

“Um… This evening, after dinner.”

“Did he say anything else to you?”

His eyes make a note of every shift in my expression.

His interest in me and my emotions is flattering and perhaps misleading.

“No, not really,” the old Leilani says to him.

The change in my tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

He pulls a chair back and sits at the table, in no hurry to send me away.

I watch him place his drink in front of him, a tall wine glass with a delicate stem, and notice how his white dress shirt strains across his broad shoulders.

Some ink peeks at the edge of his starched collar, above the neckline.

It’s also visible on his bare forearms.

“Has he done anything to you since that night in New York?” he asks, his stare still tilted down, the wine swirling in his glass.

As he moves his hand, the deep hue of red mixes with the candlelight.

My chest tightens, and my hands begin to shake.

Clumsily, I pull them back to hide them in the folds of my skirt, making him aware of my unraveling.

I have imagined a lot of things going on between Callum and me, but I never wanted to consider that one day he’d inquire about this.

At the time, I thought he was so cold and indifferent, so self-absorbed, that even if he’d noticed the dire situation I was in, he must have considered me responsible for it.

Besides, everyone in the house had been convinced I was making stuff up.

“What did he do to me that night?” I ask.

I want to hear it from him.

One night, Julian York, who hadn’t quite understood the dynamics in our house, started to harass me.

Back then, he wanted to kiss me.

Before that, he wanted to see me naked.

These days, he wants to spank me.

His obsession with me has been unreliable at best and frightening at worst.

I never knew when he’d move from one phase to the other, and couldn’t gauge him for how violent he’d get.

Back then, no one had listened to me––they never did––so I did the best I could to stay away from him.

Once Callum stepped into the house, Julian’s harassment diminished, not because O’Hara paid attention to me, but because, like everybody else, Julian wanted to be on his best behavior, not knowing the extent of Callum’s power in our house.

Eventually, he figured out that Callum O’Hara had no interest in anyone other than himself and his wife, perhaps.