Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Lee is good enough to make Ely think I’m going off to be with someone else.
More alert than before, Lee responds, “Sebastian. I'll definitely agree if you finally succumb to my wiles, but something tells me this isn’t that.”
I chuckle, low and deep. “No, it’s not that. I’m looking to blow off a little steam before I head out of town on a business trip.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Elyse’s mouth crimped tight in a thin line. Her hands pause as she stops packing. I stand and saunter over to her, still holding the phone to my ear. If making her life miserable was a sport, I’d be the champion.
I glare down at the suitcase and shake my head. “If you do it that way the suits will be wrinkled, and I won’t have anything to wear when we arrive.” With the toe of my leather shoe, I tip the suitcase up and over, spilling the contents onto the floor.
It’s assholery at its finest, but someone has to do it.
Her pert mouth pops open, and her big blue doe eyes glisten with tears. “W-Why did you do that?”
“If you did it right the first time, I wouldn’t have to correct you. Now, do it again.” I lean in close, dragging one long, deep breath of her clean soap scent into my lungs. Fresh. Clean. Perfect. “And this time, do it right. I’ll be back in an hour, maybe two, depending upon my mood. Be ready to leave as soon as I arrive.”
She flinches and stares down at the mess on the floor, but to my surprise she doesn’t cry. Oh no. I can’t have that. Not if I want to keep this wall up between us. For good measure, I kick the suitcase, sending it sliding through the clothes, scattering everything everywhere. The shirts become wrinkled as they slide across the floor. “Make sure those are pressed again, too. If they’re wrinkled, even the slightest bit, I’ll have you re-press and re-pack the entire bag all over again.”
She turns those baby blues to me in an icy glare. The tears I previously spotted fade away to a liquid heat mixed with a good amount of hate, making it difficult for me to distinguish between the two. It doesn’t matter. She’ll never say what she really wants, anyway. I can hear her screaming in her mind, railing at me, cursing me. Yet all she does is glare until she looks back down at the mess.
Whatever remains of a heart I have left splinters away against every confrontation we’ve ever had. All the good inside me died the day I saved her life. She’ll never know that, never understand the significance, but I’ll make certain if she ever remembers the details she knows just who it is she’s standing against.
I walk out of the room, feeling accomplished. Feeling closer to the new me than previously. Tanya has a way of stealing all my strength, but through Elyse, I found a way to gain control again. It’s fucked up in every way, but I need the strength, the willpower and I can get that by taking it from her.
When it comes to Elyse, I already know there is no way I will fall into those pretty doe eyes, or succumb to that soft voice. Nope. Never again. I’ll never let anyone control me again. Not Tanya, not Elyse. No one.
The only person who will ever own me, is me.
5
Elyse
Is this a punishment? If it isn’t, it certainly feels like one.
Maybe I haven’t been kicked enough by life itself lately? I’m not surprised fate is out to get me, but did it have to leave me stuck with him? The crown prince of fucking cruelty. He makes a professional sport out of being mean. Well, he’s not mean just to me, but for some unknown reason he appears to enjoy tormenting me the most. Just once, I wish I had the balls to talk back, to put him in his place.
I kick the suitcase hard and then huff, kneel, and rub out the rubber scuff mark that’s left on the fabric.
Dammit. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hope he stubs his toe on a table and forever has a piece of food stuck in his teeth…
As I think of silly things like that, my anger recedes, and I let out a long exhale and inhale slowly through my nose.
Maybe if I keep telling myself I hate him then I’ll actually believe it. It’s unlikely but possible, someday. The reality is, it's hard to hate the person who took you in at your darkest moment, even if he's under some insane delusion that he owns you.
He doesn’t own me. No one owns me.
I know he doesn’t deserve my kindness, but it’s hard not to give him some when it’s all I have to offer. So even though I want to run his clothes through a shredder instead of picking them up and repacking them, I do what I’m asked. I stack the clothes again, carefully folding each piece and organizing them inside of the suitcase with origami precision.