AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sit back, pretending to relax in the chair, and I wait.
For. Fucking. Ever.
Multiple times I wonder if he’s there or if I made it up. How long can he just stand there watching me? How long will he wait? Until I break?
Maybe he went for a coffee with Martinez, leaving me to simmer in my own rage and fear. Neither of which I will show him.
But what if… What if he isn’t there? What if this wasn’t even his call? What if it was, but he doesn’t care past teaching me a lesson? He doesn’t even care enough to come himself and watch me suffer. As long as he knows I do, that’s enough for him.
And then what?
Why does it make me feel weird to know I’m not worth enough to him that he would torture me himself? That his attention isn’t completely on me. That he has other people who betrayed him, and who he cares more about.
I’m starting to believe he was never behind that mirror in the first place, when the door opens again.
Nate saunters in like a king in his throne room. Martinez isn’t with him, and when he closes the door, I know the cop isn’t coming.
“Kayla,” Nate chuckles to himself. He drops a folder on the table and stands with his hands in his suit pants.
Midnight blue that matches his eyes. White button-up. Hair combed back. It barely looks blond on his side of the room that isn’t directly illuminated by the white bulb. In the shadow, his eyes are dark, the angles of his face hard, and when he smiles, his teeth are bright and sharp.
I am fucked.
I lick my lips, trying to keep a semblance of pride in the way I hold myself.
“Watching you slowly believe I wasn’t right there observing you for nearly four hours has been the highlight of my day, little sunflower. You badly love my attention. It’s dangerous.”
“Why is it dangerous?” I bite my lower lip the second the words are out, and he catches my regret, his mocking stare sending a wave of shame crashing into me.
Like an idiot, I didn’t even think to deny his claims.
“Because Kayla.” He opens the manila folder he put on the desk. I can see black-and-white pictures, but I can’t make out what they are exactly. “That means you’re already mine. That means whatever pretend fight you have in you will be gone soon. A part of you fell for me a long time ago, and the second I manipulate you to believe I reciprocate that, you will give me everything. Every single thing that makes you you will be mine. You’re powerful, Kayla, but you’re no match against me.”
He presses the palms of his hands on the table, and his handsome face comes into the light as he leans forward.
“You think your punishment is to be stuck with me, but it’s worse than that. It will be hard at first, but you’ll fall for me eventually, and then…that’s when I’ll truly hurt you. When I take everything from you, when I turn you into a docile little housewife with no dreams, no wants but to please me. When you’ll do it because you love me, because you think it makes you happy, when you’re truly a shadow of the mighty woman you used to be, then I would have achieved my goal. Then we’ll be even.”
My lips tremble when I part them to take a breath. I can feel the truth of his words ringing throughout my body. The dread makes me speechless for a minute, but it doesn’t bother him. He stands there, observing me with a blank face. Pushing his glasses up his straight nose, his eyes roam over my body. His tongue darts to his lip in a discreet yet captivating way.
The man is reading me with steel focus, and I’m too shaken to do anything to fight back. His description of my worst nightmare comes with the fear that I know he’s capable of anything.
My dad had a spin on the expression if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
His version was if you don’t have anything smart to say…shut the fuck up.
And as much as I hated my dad, I should have taken his advice in this instant. I know it the moment I say, “Your plan is destined to fail because you cannot force me to stay by your side. You can’t keep me to yourself.” I snort. “And you sure as fuck can’t make me marry you.”
He straightens up again, grabbing the first picture in the folder. “I’m glad you brought this up,” he says matter-of-factly, like he’s the attorney in my unfair trial. “In the last few days, how many times have you wondered how I got out of prison?”
Not nearly enough. I was too busy escaping his house and recovering so I could kill him.
Without waiting for my answer, he puts the picture in front of my cuffed hands, and my gaze leaves him, dropping to the paper.
It’s a CCTV picture of me. I’m not doing anything wrong, just walking through the Silver Falls streets on the South Bank. I’m wearing a tiny tank top I remember I could barely breathe in.
Nate tilts his head to the side, looking at the picture too. “Your boobs look huge in this picture.”
I look up, staring daggers at him.
