In Love With My Bully-Chapter 106: Lines Drawn

"Never mind, Dad. I wanted to ask your opinion about something." She twisted her fingers together nervously on the table.

"I’m all ears, sugar. Hit me."

She took a deep breath, gathering the courage she wasn’t even sure she had. "I want to be more, Dad. I want to stop hiding behind everyone. I want to put myself out there. Be someone...formidable. But I want to do it my way. By myself."

Sam leaned back in his chair, studying her. "Is this because of that boy?" he teased, one thick brow rising.

Chay groaned. "Dad, no! And...yes. Maybe." She blew out a breath. "Nita said if I stop hiding, who and what I want will find me. And she’s right. I don’t want to live afraid anymore. I just want to be me. My art, my designs—that’s where I want to start."

"In a perfect world, Nita would have been your mother," Sam said with a wistful sigh, his hands clasped loosely on the worn table between them. His eyes, usually so sharp and teasing, softened, clouded by old regrets. "Since the moment I met her, I knew she would be an amazing woman. Strong, kind, smart... the kind of woman you don’t just meet and walk away from."

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "But I did the same thing you’re doing now. I hid behind the shadow of my brother, thinking maybe she’d notice me if I just... existed nearby. Maybe if I stayed close enough, she’d see me. But you know what happens when you stay in the shadows too long, sweetheart? You disappear."

Sam leaned forward. "Don’t you ever, ever make decisions because of someone else. Not for a boy, not for a man, not for anyone.Do it because you want it, because your heart sets on fire thinking about it."

Chay sat back heavily in her chair, his words wrapping around her chest. She studied his face. the lines of regret etched into his skin, the weariness in his shoulders. He had made mistakes, big ones. The kind that had cost him his freedom, his future... maybe even his chance at true love.

But here he was, still smiling, still teasing, still believing in her. Maybe that’s what made Sam special. He had lost so much, yet he hadn’t lost his heart.

Chay stared at the scuffed table as her mind turned over everything he said.

All her life she thought that hiding would keep her safe — safe from the vultures, from betrayal, from the twisted expectations of the Numero family name. But hiding hadn’t kept her safe. It had just kept her small. And unseen.

"I want to design, Dad," she said finally. "I want people to wear my work. I want them to feel beautiful because of what I create."

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, the sudden thrill of saying it out loud almost making her giddy.

Sam’s face lit up. He banged the table so hard the guard standing by the door jumped and scowled at him.

"My little darling!" Sam boomed, ignoring the guard completely. "I never did anything right for you in all your life. Never could keep out of trouble, never could keep my promises." He leaned in closer, his eyes shining. "But believe me when I say, even from this hellhole, I will move heaven and earth to help you become the greatest designer the world has ever seen."

Chay snorted a laugh, tears stinging the back of her eyes. "Quit bragging."

Sam puffed out his chest, flashing a cheeky grin that could probably still get him into — and out of — all sorts of trouble. "I can’t help it. I’m a proud father. It’s a disease."

Chay smiled through the tightness in her throat.

"First things first," Sam said, steepling his fingers. "We need a business plan. Can you whip one up, or should I pull some strings and find someone who can work with your dream?"

"I’ll take the help. I suck at writing."

"He will contact you in a few days."

"Are you sure you are in jail or are they giving you special treatment or something?" Chay smirked.

"I’ll break the walls of this place for my baby girl."

*****

Drake was a man who knew quality when he tasted it — and Queen, as it turned out, was pure, dangerous addiction. He sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his head in his hands, wondering when exactly he had lost complete control of his life.

Because now? Now he couldn’t think about anything except her. The way she moved. The way she kissed. The way she fought him in bed.

Jesus.

Queen was a ruthless conqueror.

Drake groaned out loud and flopped backward onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. "What the actual fuck," he muttered into the empty room.

In an act of desperate distraction, he grabbed his phone and dialed Chayara. It rang once, then abruptly cut off.

He frowned, sitting up straighter. What the hell was going on with her?

She had been ice-cold about his marriage to Queen, her disapproval so clear she might as well have rented a billboard saying, ’This is a bad idea!’

But she never gave him a real reason. And now she wasn’t even picking up his calls? frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

He tossed the phone onto the bed with a sigh of frustration.

The door swung open, and Queen breezed in, a goddess of chaos wrapped in black yoga pants and a tight tank top, her skin glistening with sweat. She looked like temptation itself had decided to take up jogging.

"The gym instructor was brutal," she announced, dropping a towel onto the chair.

Drake’s gaze was trapped somewhere around the smooth curve of her waist, moving lower. His brain short-circuited for a full five seconds before he remembered how to speak.

"Yeah?" he croaked. Then, trying to sound casual, he added, "I guess that means you’ll be seeing him again."

Queen shot him a wicked grin as she pulled the band from her hair, letting the messy bun tumble down into loose waves.

"You know me too well," she said with a little toss of her head. "I may even employ him for home service at my place."

"Your... your place?" he repeated, the words barely squeezing out of his throat.