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Despite Caleb’s comfort, I still feel so lost, so alone in this place. I frown, mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. Why am I here, why am I subjecting myself to this?
At first, it was fun, maybe a little sexy. But I can’t help wondering—was it worth sacrificing my dignity for my career? Can I live with myself knowing I’ve compromised my values for the sake of a job?
A knot tightens in my chest and I fight to keep the tears from spilling out again. I don’t know if I can even cry anymore—I’ve already spent so long crying over this whole thing.
“Princess?” There’s a knock at the door and I scramble to sit up, wiping my eyes furiously to hide the evidence that I’d been crying all afternoon.
It’s Bastian, and I don’t know if I’m ready to face him yet, but he knocks again.
“Can I come in?” His voice is gruff and he pauses momentarily before adding a soft “Please?”
With shaky legs, I cross the room and push the door open a crack, his blue eyes meeting mine through the gap.
“Can I come in?” he asks again. “I need to talk to you.”
I let go of the door and walk back to the bed, allowing Bastian to slip in behind me, and he shuts the door before standing in front of the bed, crossing his arms while he stares at the floor for a moment.
There’s tension in his shoulders and a guarded look in his eyes, making me wonder what demons are lurking under the surface.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, slipping back into the bed and pulling the covers up to my chin.
“I … I’m sorry,” he grits out. “I was an ass. You didn’t deserve that, all that shit I did. I shouldn’t have done that with you when I was in such a messed-up headspace.”
My heart hammers in my chest, his words softening my heart. “And?”
Bastian takes a deep breath. “And yeah, you’re ours to do with as we want but that doesn’t mean that we can treat you like you’re nothing. You’re not nothing.”
Despite the apology, it still felt as though there was a wall between us, one that I had no idea how to break down.
“But hear me out,” Bastian went on, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m not gonna promise we won’t do the rough stuff like that again. I swear, next time, I’ll check in with you. Make sure you’re okay with it.”
My defenses soften slightly at his words, though I still feel a twinge of skepticism. I’m just not sure if I can trust him to keep his promise.
Bastian sighs, his shoulders slumping with defeat. “Look, I’m not good with this mushy shit,” he admits, his voice gruff. “But I’m trying here, okay? I don’t want things to be fucked up between us.”
He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to hug you now.” He hesitates a moment, hands hovering uncertainly before his arms finally wrap around me and pull me into his chest.
I stiffen on contact, his spicy, woodsy smell filling my senses. My mind races, wondering if this hug is sincere or another attempt at manipulating me. But despite my reservations, I find myself melting into the embrace, craving the comfort and closeness he’s offering.
I want to trust him but I’m wary of letting my guard down completely around him. Every time I think I’ve got him figured out, he shows me another side that I’ve never seen before.
Bastian pulls away after a few moments and stares at me, my cheeks heating up under his gaze. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters. “Don’t look at me like that, Princess. I’m going to want to do bad things to you again if you do.”
“What?” I cover my face with my hands. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“You know, you’re the one who agreed to this,” Bastian tells me. “It’s not my fault that you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that we want you.”
I pick at the comforter, unsure how to respond to his words. “Why did I agree to this again?” I mutter. Is it even worth it? I could back out of the arrangement at this point. I probably have enough material to get things done at this point and I wouldn’t need to rely on the guys for help.
“I guess I agreed because I felt like I had no other choice,” I admit to him.
Bastian leans in, voice low. “You always have a choice, Princess. But you chose us. Remember that.”
“I just don’t know what you want from me,” I tell him. “I’m … I’m struggling here.”
He smirks, but his eyes betray a flicker of vulnerability. “You’ll figure it out, you’re a smart girl.”
Despite how much time we’ve spent together over the past few days, I still feel like I barely know these guys. I feel like an outsider, like I don’t belong in their world. And they’ve gotsomething going on that they won’t talk about. Am I just a pawn in some larger scheme?
