Lost & Bound Read Online Free Page B

Cal. Don’t let her get
away.”
    I try to disguise the eye roll he deserves,
but I fail.
    “You can make it work,” he softens his
voice. “All relationships go through their ups and downs, but you have to stick
around and work through it.”
    Did your relationship with mom have its
ups and downs? Did you lock her up and rape her when you needed a release? Fuck, being civil to this guy is proving harder than I imagined.
    “I don’t think we’ll be working through
anything, Dad. I don’t have the energy for it anymore.”
    All I did was fight for my relationship,
but I wasn’t so sure it was a relationship worth fighting for. I tried to make
it work. God knows for the majority of our relationship all I did was try and
make it work, but I couldn’t explain that to my father. He’d probably tell me
to take a mistress on the side or something absurd.
    “How is Sofia taking it?” His question
surprises me. He actually sounds like he gives a shit.
    “She was upset—is upset. I told her I
needed some space.”
    “So, there’s still hope then? Good. Never
burn any bridges, that’s always been my motto.”
    He smiles at me. My father always hears
what he wants to and ignores the rest. I’m used to this.
    He wipes down the bench, as he looks lost
in thought, a line wrinkling his forehead. “Are you staying at your house?”
    He’s probably petrified that I want to
sleep in my childhood home, what a conflict that would be.
    My own home is a three-bedder that I bought
when I was twenty-three and fresh out of college. It sits on the outskirts of
Merling. Since my move to Milan three years ago, I rented the house out. I haven’t
told the tenants to vacate yet, I’m not even sure I want to stick around.
    “There are tenants in there now,” I tell
him. “I’m staying at Eric’s for a few nights.”
    “Right.”
    My father hates Eric. Despises him in fact,
and he’s always frowned upon our friendship since we were juniors. Eric had a
humble upbringing and my father didn’t approve of our friendship from the
start.
    As our conversation runs dry, I struggle to
find something to talk about. I haven’t seen this man in three years and yet we
can’t hold a conversation for longer than ten minutes.
    “How’s the town going?”
    Just as I bring up my father’s favorite
subject, his beloved Merling, his phone rings.
    He looks at the screen and then up at me.
    “Sorry, Cal,” he says, not an ounce of
sincerity in his voice. “I have to take this.”
    “Sure, no problem,” I tell him.
    “Why don’t you take a look in the fridge
and choose something for us to heat for dinner?”
    He doesn’t wait for my response before
turning his back and leaving the room.
    “Hugh, how’s it going?” His voice bellows
down the hallway.
    When he’s out of sight I rush to the
basement door. Pausing, I listen for his footsteps. None. He is still, probably
sitting in his office at the end of the hall. I can hear his deep voice
carrying down the corridor, he lets out a gruff laugh and I figure I have some time
to spare, five minutes at best.
    I silently push the door open and step into
the darkness. I don’t remember ever coming down here as a child. Maybe it was
always my father’s sex dungeon, even when we lived here as a family and I was
none the wiser.
    When I’m halfway down the staircase I
notice a dim light illuminating the corner of the room.
    “Leila,” I half say, half whisper. “Leila,
are you here?”
    “Callum,” her heavy accent fills my ears
and I find myself smiling.
    I descend the last few steps and look around
the area. I don’t know what I expected to find down here, but the space isn’t
entirely dreary.
    There’s a huge four-poster bed on the far
side of the room, set against an exposed brick wall. The linen is all white and
crisp. The exposed wood beams and the high ceiling make the space cold, my arms
instantly covering in goose bumps.
    “This is where I live.” Leila indicates the
room