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“Kiss me, Bunny.”
She spits at my face and tries to pull away again, but I won’t let her. Leaning forward, I take her lips in a kiss. She doesn’t open. Instead, she tries to fight me. I demand her to kiss me, my lips are hard as they press against hers, but she doesn’t open. Not once does she kiss me back, and when I pull back there’s tears in her eyes.
Shit! I drop her arm and remove myself from her. I never want to see her cry, no matter how cruel I am to her. Never.
“I hate you, Whiskey Corton.”
And I believe her.
I believe it with every part of me that, right now, she hates me.
And I hate myself even more for making her this way.
Lottie turns, her red hair a mess as she walks to the door and doesn’t once look back at me.
The minute she’s gone, I grab the closest thing to me and smash it to pieces.
It’s ironic that it turns out it’s the photograph of my father.
He’s the sole reason I’ve targeted her to begin with.
CHAPTER 31
LOTTIE
Emma’s hand soothes down my back, rubbing it to try to calm me down. I can’t stay calm, though. I’m angry, upset, and want to hurt Whiskey the same way he’s hurting me.
This isn’t fair.
None of this is fair.
He doesn’t play fair.
“Just don’t have sex with him again,” she says. “I’m sure he can’t change the contract now.”
Taking a long sip of straight vodka, which burns all the way down, I shake my head. “I don’t even want to see him again. The thought of his hands on me…” I take another sip. Emma removes her hands, so I turn to face her. She’s thinking. “Say it, Emma.”
Her eyes look up at me, she looks guilty. “You like him… a lot.”
I go to shake my head. Even though I know that’s a lie. So, I don’t even bother denying it. How did my hate for this man turn into me wanting him? I still haven’t figured that part out.
“If you don’t separate yourself from him, Lottie, you may just fall in love with him.”
My head shakes fast. “That can’t happen. I can’t have that happen,” I say more to myself.
But she answers me anyway. “I’m afraid it’s bound to.”
“How can you say that?” I stand, taking the bottle with me. I’m still in his house, and I hate that fact. I want to go back to mine. So, I walk to the closet and start packing everything, pulling it all out of the closet and into the empty suitcases and boxes I had stashed away in case I needed them.
“You don’t look at anyone like you look at him.”
“I look at him with hate.”
She shakes her head. “No, that was there, but it’s gone now. I’ve known you for twenty years, Lottie. I know when you truly hate something, and believe me, you don’t hate Whiskey.”
“I hate him.”
“Do you, though?”
