Richmond-Banks Brothers 1: A Hopeless Place (BWWM Interracial Romance) Read online

  “I’m just trying to familiarize myself,” she said meekly, as if I’d insulted her. “I know you’ve been doing this your entire life, but I’m new here.”

  I stared straight ahead at the wall as I choked down a little bit more of my breakfast. Cold eggs and lightly buttered wheat toast. Delicious.

  “So, you really liked Eleanor, huh?” she asked. This girl couldn’t go two seconds without talking. At least she had a pretty voice, sweet and soft with a hint of tenderness.

  “You talk a lot,” I said. I tended to be blunt and honest. It was better she knew that from the get-go. “Eleanor didn’t really talk much.”

  “Oh,” Amara said, disappointed. “I’m just trying to get to know you. I don’t mean to be annoying. I figured we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so we should probably get to know each other.”

  “I guess.”

  “What’s the itinerary for today?” she asked, perching herself at the foot of my bed.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “What are we doing today?”

  “I usually just hang out in here…”

  “In your room?” she asked. “All day long?”

  “I’ve more than enough to keep me busy.”

  “Your home is amazing, Bennett,” she said, my name slipping off her sweet lips so casually. No one had ever said my name the way she did, slow and with intention. “Why would you just stay in here all day? Don’t you have an English garden? A library? A movie theater?”

  I picked up the breakfast tray and sat it next to me to signal to her that I was finished. It was quite obvious that I’d barely touched most of it, but at least I’d tried. I flipped the covers back and placed one foot on the cold hardwood floor, followed by the other. My satin pajamas hung off my body, and in that moment, I hated myself for being so weak.

  The man on the outside did not match the man on the inside. It never had.

  I stood up, walking toward her and keeping one hand on the bed to steady myself. “It’s difficult for me to get around this house. I have everything I need right here.”

  “I see that,” she said, studying me as I moved. “Where are you going?”

  “The bathroom,” I snipped. “Is that okay with you?”

  Amara said nothing as she gathered my breakfast tray and carried it out of the room. By the time she returned, I was back in my bed, freshened up with the laptop on and the T.V. glowing on mute in the background.

  “Is this what your mornings are usually like?” she asked as she returned, barging into my room. Eleanor at least had the decency to knock each time. She took a seat on the edge of the bed again. “Sorry. I’m probably asking too many questions.”

  “Amara,” I said sternly. “Why don’t you go find something to do, and then come back in a few hours when I need my medication and percussion therapy, okay?”

  I reached over for my nebulizer in an attempt to show her that I wasn’t a baby. I could do things for myself.

  “Um, okay,” she said, slowly standing up. “I’ll be in my room, then. Call me on the intercom when you need me.”

  She sauntered over to the door, lingering as if she wanted to say something more, and then left the room. My eyes returned to the computer screen in front of me, but the words began to jumble and blur together. I couldn’t concentrate, not with her in the next room over. She intrigued me with her eagerness to please and the way she did absolutely anything I asked, no questions.

  I reached over to the bedside table and pressed the intercom button. Within thirty seconds she was back, standing in my doorway.

  “Yes?” she asked, her big, brown eyes round as saucers as she awaited my instructions.

  “Can you hand me that controller over there?” I asked, pointing to the console by the T.V. across the room.

  She retrieved it for me without saying a word and then went to leave the room.

  “Wait,” I called out. “Would you like to play? Sometimes it’s fun to have a little competition.”

  She turned, hesitating a bit before grabbing the second controller. “Sure. What are we playing?”

  The game started up on the screen.

  “Oh, is this where you shoot zombies?” she asked. She sounded excited, as if she were familiar with it. “I used to play this with my ex. It was the only way I could get him to spend time with me, some days.”

  “Why’d you two break up?” I pried, my eyes scanning over to the side nonchalantly as I realized she was actually quite attractive. Her nose came to a perfect point and her dark lashes fanned out from her deep-set eyes.

  She opened her mouth, then paused before drawing in a long breath. “He cheated on me.”

  “His loss,” I replied as my fingers danced around the controller, clicking buttons. I glanced up at my points in the corner of the screen. I was way off my game.

  “Thank you,” Amara replied sweetly. “I’ll be honest. I miss him sometimes.”

  “Why would you miss someone that cheated on you?” I said, nose scrunched.

  “He was my first love,” she said, her voice a near whisper. “You always love your first love.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said, not attempting to hide the sour bite of my words.

  “Someday, you will,” Amara said, turning to offer me a kind smile. I couldn’t wrap my head around why she was so nice to me. I’d been barking orders at her since the second she barged in with that God-awful breakfast, and she’d been nothing but sweet and kind to me all morning. I didn’t deserve her kindness, and I knew it.

  “I’m going to go back to bed now,” I announced after several minutes of nothing but clicking buttons filling the space between us.

  “So soon?” she objected. “You’ve only been up a couple hours.”

  “I tire easily,” I said, stopping the game and tossing the controller aside. “Wake me up around noon for my meds. Don’t be late. I like to watch the news.”

  Amara climbed off the bed slowly, once again obeying my every whim. Eleanor didn’t put up with me bossing her around. She’d put a stop to that early on. I almost felt guilty, but I wanted to push her to see how much she would take, to see if she really did care about me or if I was nothing more than a paycheck to her.

  Amara left the room and closed the door, and I drew the covers up over my head. I wasn’t tired. I didn’t know why I’d kicked her out of the room. I was actually starting to enjoy her company.

  I pulled myself out from under the covers and carefully headed toward the bathroom. I braced myself on the edge of the claw foot tub and began to run myself a hot bath. Slipping off my pajamas and slowly climbing in, I sunk back and rested my head as the steamy air warmed my heavy lungs. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep for a bit, and I awoke when I heard her calling my name from the other side of the door.

  “Bennett?”

  “I’m in here,” I yelled out. “Don’t come in. I’m indisposed.”

  “Okay,” she said from the other side of the door. “I’ll just be right out here, if you need anything.”

  I sat up, quickly realizing my hot bath had become barely lukewarm. I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth. “I need my hair washed.”

  In seconds, Amara gently opened the door and I drew myself up, wrapping my arms around my knees. She knelt down and grabbed a cup from the window ledge and filled it with bathwater.

  “Lean your head back,” she said as she saturated my hair. I imagined it was awkward for her to be bathing a grown man, but it was even more awkward for me to be bathed by someone as pretty and as young as her.

  She squeezed a small amount of shampoo into her palm and rubbed her hands together before running her fingers over my head and massaging it into my scalp.

  “You have an amazing head of hair, Bennett,” she said, amused. “Seriously. So thick and lush. I’d kill for this hair.”

  “You’re just trying to make this situation less awkward, but it’s not helping,” I told her. I couldn’t make eye contact wit
h her.

  She said nothing more as she rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

  “I’ll need help getting out,” I said begrudgingly. “Grab that towel over there and keep your eyes up.”

  She stood up. “Listen, I’m a nurse. There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t know you. Just hand me the towel.” I hated, absolutely hated that this was the way it had to be. My face burned with molten embarrassment, and it was right then and there that I swore to myself to regain my independence no matter what it took. I never wanted to feel this way again. Ever.

  With a fluffy white towel under one arm, she leaned down and helped me up, keeping her eyes on the wall ahead of us. She handed me the towel, and I swiftly wrapped it around my waist, securing it tight.

  “I need you to bring me my outfit for the day,” I instructed. “Eleanor would lay one out each morning.”

  “What do you like to wear?”

  “Something comfortable,” I replied as she headed across the room to my closet. I watched as she opened the closet doors and saw that my wardrobe mainly consisted of sweat pants, t-shirts, and matching satin pajamas.

  “Don’t you have jeans, or anything?” she asked.

  “Who would lie around all day in jeans?” I scoffed. “I prefer to be comfortable.”

  She returned with a clean white t-shirt, red, plaid boxers, and a pair of navy blue sweat pants. The girl wanted to dress me like an American flag. “Here you are.”

  I yanked them from her hands and shut the bathroom door in her face, taking my frustration out on her. I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at the situation. I took my time getting dressed and carefully styled my hair, slicking it over with brill cream and a side part. I liked to look clean and put together, even if I was lounging around in sweats all day.

  “So, where are your parents today?” she asked as I emerged from the bathroom a moment later.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said with a shrug and an eyebrow raise. “Dad’s probably at work, and Mom is probably attending one of her social club meetings, or something. I don’t really care. They’re pretty much always gone.”

  “That sucks for you.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Then what should we do this afternoon?” she asked. This girl was unrelenting.

  “Didn’t we already go over this?”

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. She apologized for everything. “Bad habit. I always have to be doing something, or else I drive myself crazy. My mind never shuts off. I like to keep busy.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a pretty boring person,” I replied as I shuffled back over to the bed.

  “Nah,” Amara said with a smile. “I doubt that.”

  “You really don’t find me boring?” I asked, not believing her for one second.

  “Nope,” she said. I still didn’t buy it. She was just being kind.

  I stared over at the wall, at an oil painting done of myself at age five. I hated having a picture of myself on the wall, but my mother insisted on hanging it there. Something about the colors bringing out the subtle mauves in the tapestry drapes that covered my windows.

  “Do you want me to open that window you’re staring at?” Amara said. “It’s really nice out. Sunny. Not a single cloud in the sky.”

  “No,” I objected. She walked over to the window anyway.

  “It feels like nighttime in here,” she said as she reached for the pull. “Doesn’t that mess up your sleep schedule?”

  “No,” I snapped. “I don’t like the light. It hurts my eyes.”

  “It probably hurts your eyes because you’re so used to living in the dark.”

  My jaw tensed. “I said no.”

  “Why don’t we try drawing the curtains just a couple inches at a time?” she said pulling the drapes back. Where did the obedient Amara go, and who was this stranger?

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my room now. You’re not helping me at all,” I said, unable to hide the irritation in the growl of my voice.

  She rushed to my side. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to get you to have an open mind. Try something new. I’ll leave them shut, okay?”

  She ran her delicate fingers through my hair and then rubbed the side of my face, the way a mother would calm an upset child. I shuddered. It was an unfamiliar gesture, and one my mother only ever used when other people were around.

  Amara left the room and returned a short time later with a tray full of food. “I hope you like turkey on whole wheat. Well, I know you do because it was one of the things on that menu your mom gave me.”

  “It’s food.” I couldn’t remember the last time I got excited about food, or anything else, for that matter.

  She situated the tray over my lap and handed me the remote to the T.V. I flipped to an afternoon newscast and nibbled at my sandwich.

  “I’m finished,” I announced after a few bites.

  “You didn’t even eat half. You sure?”

  “I’m done. Take it.” I pushed the tray down toward my knees.

  She carried it back down to the kitchen and returned a couple minutes later. “Do you want to watch a movie, or something?”

  “Like what?” I asked, shocked that she actually wanted to spend time with me. Eleanor and I always had an understanding. She’d make sure I was good and comfortable, and then she’d disappear into the depths of the mansion, awaiting my next page.

  “What do you like?” Amara asked. “Pick something.”

  “Historical dramas,” I replied without pause.

  “Should we head to the theater room?” she asked, nodding toward the door.

  “No, we’ll watch it here,” I said. I grabbed the remote and brought up the DVR screen, selecting a movie I’d recorded weeks ago but hadn’t yet watched, some World War II drama. Amara situated herself at the foot of the bed, keeping a careful distance from me as if I might bite.

  “You can sit up here, if you’d like,” I said, patting the pillow next to me. “I don’t mind.”

  She scooted toward the tufted leather headboard and propped herself up against a pillow next to me. “Hey, Bennett? Would you mind if I planned a little something for us to do tomorrow?”

  AMARA

  I awoke Tuesday morning to the sound of my bedroom door creaking open. In the pitch black darkness stood a lanky figure, and my heart pounded hard in my chest until I remembered where I was.

  “Sorry to wake you,” Ingrid’s frosty voice whispered. “I just wanted to let you know that Sterling and I are leaving for the airport. We have to meet with a prospective client in New York. We’ll be back late Sunday night. Numbers are on the refrigerator.”

  So much for having most weekends off. “Have a safe trip.”

  “I’ll let you get back to sleep,” she whispered. “You still have a couple of hours before you need to be up for the day. I’ll call to check on Bennett when we get to the hotel later tonight.”

  With that, she closed the door, and I listened as her footsteps traveled down the hall toward the stairs and then to the foyer. As soon as the front door closed, I realized I was wide awake. A jolt of adrenaline at six in the morning would do that to a person.

  I rolled over in a vain attempt to get comfortable again but it was no use. It had taken me two hours to fall asleep the night before, and I was as good as up for the day. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs to make Bennett’s breakfast, fully intending on avoiding anything egg-related.

  So much for having any kind of life now, I thought before quickly reminding myself that I was making almost double the salary of most registered nurses in the area, and for a fraction of the amount of work they had to do.

  I carried his breakfast, oatmeal, and sliced banana with a mug of hot, English breakfast tea up to his room, waking him slightly earlier than usual.

  “You look tired,” Bennett said as I sat the tray down by his bedside.

  “I’ve bee
n up since six,” I said with a yawn. “I didn’t know your parents were going out of town this weekend.”

  “They’re pretty much gone every weekend.”

  I placed the tray of food over his lap and prepared his nebulizer treatment. As he ate in silence, I hoisted myself onto his bed next to him and rested my head on the pillow. Maybe it was unprofessional of me, but I was too tired to think clearly.

  Within minutes, I popped up, woken by my own faint snoring and my dry, scratchy throat. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  Bennett smiled. “You’re officially the first girl to ever sleep in my bed.”

  It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile, and for a split second, he almost seemed likeable. Normal.

  “You’re kinda cute when you smile,” I teased. “I never realized that. You should smile more often.”

  Bennett blushed and turned away, dropping his spoon into his bowl.

  “Did I embarrass you?” I teased some more as I poked him in his side.

  “Ouch. Stop that,” he said, reverting back to his old self in a matter of seconds.

  “I’m just trying to lighten you up a bit,” I said. “You’re so tightly wound all the time. Sorry.”

  I reached over and gently lifted his shirt to look at his ribs, placing one warm palm over the area I’d just poked.

  “I hope that doesn’t bruise,” I said. “I didn’t mean to poke you so hard.”

  I was so close to him I could feel his breath on top of my head. I could also hear the faint beating of his heart in his chest. I pulled away and locked eyes with him, trying to get a read. I imagined what his mother would say if she saw bruises on his ribs, and I imagined Bennett making up some elaborate story out of spite. He seemed so resentful toward me sometimes, and I couldn’t understand why.

  “You apologize too much,” he said, leaning away from me. “I’ll be fine.”

  Relieved, I scooted further away from him and sunk back into the bed to relax a bit more.

  “You can sleep,” he said as he turned the volume down on the T.V. Maybe he didn’t completely hate me, after all.

  I closed my tired eyes and drifted off into a sweet little catnap. I awoke hours later. “Oh, geez. I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”