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I can feel his eyes on me before I see him, but I ignore it. I ignore him as I move around the room wildly. When the chorus kicks in, my eyes are on Bryant’s. We’d find each other with or without the help of light.
His jaw is set in an angry angle, his eyes on mine.
I chuckle. “Asshole.” Even though I know he can’t hear me. When the song ends after I’ve danced out the rest, he finally takes the steps toward me.
His arm snaps around my back, his lips to my ear. “Outside. Now.”
Rolling my eyes, my hips sashay as I drift out of the room. The doors slam behind me, cutting off the music and replacing the sensual energy with electrifying tension.
Scary.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Isa?” He growls, squeezing my hand and dragging me down the hallway.
I pull out of his grip as we reach the front door. “Me? What the fuck is your problem! Kicking me out? Are you fucking serious?”
“You fucking wanted to leave, I simply gave you an out!”
“An out?” I laugh hysterically, my arms may be doing that crazy thing they do when I’m mad too. “My god, you are fucking delusional, Bryant! I said that I would help you!”
He laughs, his head tipping back and his white teeth flashing. It’s a little scary seeing him laugh. He barely smiles. I know this isn’t good. In one movement, he flies forward, backing me up against the front door. My hand squeezes the handle from behind.
“What are you going to do, Bryant? Hurt me?”
Both of his hands are pressed against the doors, caging me in. He pins me to the wall with his waist. This would usually turn me on, being pushed up against the wall with his cock between my legs, but he fucked someone else last night while I slept down the damn hall.
His perfect features begin to morph into defeat. “I don’t want to fucking hurt you, Isa.”
Realization sinks into my pores and shoots into my veins. I’ve been forcing his hand for too long. My place in his life. For all I know, he moved on while I was in the asylum and I just didn’t know it.
I lick my lips, the cracks in my heart threatening to expose my vulnerability. “Don’t you love me anymore?” The words come out as a whisper, and before I can force them back into my mouth and swallow them, they’re out there in the wild.
“What?” He growls. “What the fuck—” The door opens and I’m falling backward, the dark sky peering down at me after I land on my back with a thud.
“Br—” Hands wrap around my throat and pull me to my feet.
“Isa!” Bryant yells. I reach for him, but I’m being pulled back, farther and farther away. Gunshots blare out and I watch as Bryant falls to the ground.
“No!” I scream. Kicking backward, I break free from my captor and jolt forward to Bryant laying on the ground, but before I can reach him, I’m being lifted again with a cloth covering my mouth.
Silence stretches out through the room, my head tilted to the side. The first thing I notice is my arms tied to something behind me. The second is my legs tied. There’s a single light dangling over my head and the distinct sound of a dripping tap. My head pounds, and my vision is hazy as I slowly open my eyes.
My father sits in front of me, his suit buttoned, and his face marred in controlled anger. “You’re awake. Good. This won’t take long.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl, tugging on the restraints that are latched around my wrists and ankles.
My father, or I should say, Peter, clears his throat. “I think it’s about time we clear the air, don’t you?” He pauses. “—Your husband is a very powerful man, Isa, but he forgets what I’m also capable of.”
How did I get here, to be tossed between my husband and my father? I don’t question if Bryant is a powerful man, because I know that he is.
“Isa, it’s no secret that you and I do not see eye to eye and never will. In fact, when you were born, I didn’t want you.”
I chuckle. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re a disgusting human.”
Even with his blatant repugnance of me, I can’t help the hurt that cuts me open inside. His words yet again leave me feeling dirty and unlovable. All I’m good for is a quick fuck and to be thrown around. People talk about how powerful the word love is, but neglect to mention the potency of being unloved. It’s crippling to your mental health and leaves stains as dark as an ember on your soul. When my parent, someone who was put here to love me unconditionally, can’t find it in himself to love me, then what makes me think someone who isn’t obliged to, will?
