I swallowed. A week earlier I’d sent Brutus a copy of the business plan I drafted up months earlier. Long before I quit my job. He’d thoroughly read it over, gave me some feedback, and asked truly insightful questions about funding and growth potential.
“Your support means everything to me,” I told the truth.
He scrubbed a hand down the side of his face.
“You look tired. It’s after one a.m., isn't it?” I calculated the time difference between where I was and Williamsport to confirm that it was indeed closer to two in the morning there.
“Yeah, just got home.”
“You work a lot. I know that life.” The week before he’d been on the East Coast due to some business meetings his employer had over there. I still hadn’t asked the name of the family he worked for because it didn’t matter to me. But I did worry about his safety, even though he constantly assured me that the bulk of his job was quite dull.
I knew he downplayed the dangers to keep me from worrying.
“Have you eaten anything? When is your next day off?”
He chuckled, and I watched as he laid back against his bed. He’d given me a tour of his home on one of our other calls.
“I just had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“That’s not real food.”
“Enough about me. Are you working too hard on that farm? I know you're researching for your business but that doesn’t mean they get to squeeze you for free labor.”
I laughed. “Nobody’s squeezing me for anything.”
“Good. I’m the only one who gets to squeeze you.”
I bit my bottom lip.
He sat up. “What’s that look?”
I hesitated before answering. “We, um, haven’t really defined what we are. What this relationship is.”
He squinted, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gave me a stern look. “You want a definition?”
“No … yes,” I amended. “I mean, not if you’re not ready. We’re not even in the same country. So—”
“You belong to me, Mia. You’re my woman. My girlfriend, though I hate that term because it's simply not enough to describe what you mean to me.”
My heart melted, and embarrassingly, my eyes started to water. I wanted to blame the emotion on PMS or something but couldn’t. I’d gotten my period a few days earlier. Brutus’ face crumpled when I told him the news. And for a heartbeat, I’d wondered if he had hoped I was pregnant.
I didn’t want to dwell too heavily on the fact that I was a little disappointed. I had to remind myself repeatedly that I’d known Brutus for less than two months. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t get me pregnant that one time we didn’t use a condom.
“I didn't get it,” Brutus said, capturing my attention. That blazing look of intensity was back in his eyes as he stared at me through the phone’s camera.
“What?” I asked, transfixed on that gleam in his eyes.
“I work for men who I’ve seen do some pretty outrageous shit for the women they love. I understood the need to be protective, but I didn’t understand the lengths they went to. Not until right now. I'd skin a motherfucker alive for you,” he declared.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Shit, I just frightened you, didn't I?” he asked, looking slightly chagrined.
“Yeah, kind of,” I answered, truthfully.
“I didn't mean …” He paused, “Shit, yes I did. I would filet a motherfucker for looking at you wrong.”
I stared with my mouth agape. “You know that sounds insane, right?”
