He’s holding my cup toward me with his hand outstretched. I reach out with a shaky hand to grab it. But he tightens his grip as he leans in, slightly drawing me in with my death grip on the mug.
“Have you spoken to your father today?”
My father? Why would I speak to him? All I can do is toss my head back-and-forth no.
“Ah, I see.” He chuckles, “Surprise, surprise, little bunny. You’ll be moving in today. Your father asked for this, and I wholeheartedly agreed. So from now on, I’ll be picking you up and taking you to work each morning. Your things have already arrived. Your father had them delivered this afternoon.” He lifts his lips into a warped smile.
I feel faint like I’m going to be sick again. So that’s why everything was getting moved and packed this morning. My father had no intention of even letting me come home tonight. He told me last night that I had a few days to get ready. I almost want to cry. I can feel tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. But I’m not about to let them go. I’m not sure why I’m still genuinely shocked every day; when I’m treated like cattle. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Alex reaches his hand out to cup my cheek, pressing his thumb against the corner of my eye, wiping away the one tear that is threatening to fall.
“Now, now, bunny, no tears. It won’t be that bad. You’ll only have to put up with me for a couple of days, and then I’m going to New York for a week. You’ll be all alone to play in your new house.” His voice is so cold it sends chills down my spine.
I yank my hand back with my cup, and it snaps out of his grasp, almost slamming into my chest. My eyes narrow and my jaw goes tight. I'm done.
I don't know where my bravery comes from, or perhaps the past 24 hours have been too stressful for me. But I'm tired of the games he plays
“I’m not going home with you now. I have to meet Anna. If you give me your number, I’ll text you and you can have a driver come pick me up. But I am going to meet my friend.”
I meant to step past him, but he pushes my shoulder back. Stopping me in my tracks.
His deep voice grumbles, “So my bunny has a bite? Remember, I bite back, Isabella. I came here to pick you up and take you home. My home and that is where you are going. You are now my responsibility. Your father handed that over to me this morning. So yes, you will get in my car and you will go home with me. Refuse me one more time and I will put you over my shoulder and carry you out myself. I told you, never refuse what I offer.”
I can’t believe this man walks into my office and tells me I no longer live with my parents, but with him, and that if I don’t get in the car, he’ll carry me out like a toddler.
“No”. I say as I shove past him and make my way to the door. No sooner had I reached for the handle, than Alex has my hands gripped in one hand, pressed tight at the small of my back, and my entire body is pressed up against it, my face squishing into the glass. Instinct kicks in and I struggle, but I can’t break his hold.
I can feel his hot breath on my neck, his lips grazing my ear as he whispers darkly, “Oh bunny? I do love to play; keep pushing me and you’re going to find out how hard.” At that moment, he grinds his hips into my butt, and I can feel his hard length as it pushes between my butt cheeks. Oh sweet breakfast basket, that thing is huge.
His voice is low, like a tremor on my neck. “But then again, you already know that, don’t you.”
Fear mixed with excitement tingles down my back. I can feel mystomach fluttering and a pulse beats in my core. What the hell is happening? I don’t understand this man. One minute he seems to want to make out with me, and the next he acts as if he hates me. He chokes me one minute and then the next wipes my tears with a gentle hand.
My voice shakes as I try to answer him.
“I’m not fighting. I just want to meet my friend for a drink. That’s all. That’s all I want. I didn’t ask to move in with you or ask to be your wife. I only want one tiny moment of freedom. And then I’ll text you and you can come and pick me up. In two weeks, you will own me. I just want one night and one drink. “
He has my hands still pinned to the small of my back. His other hand is now sneaking up my arm. As a large palm wraps around my jaw, slightly turning my face towards him. I still have my eyes closed not wanting to look at him.
His lips hover above mine like he doesn’t want to back away nor does he bring them closer. My heart is beating so fast, my pulse is throbbing under his large hand gripped around my throat. And then I felt the most amazing thing. His lips touch mine gently. They’re soft and warm. It’s just a quick touching of lips, but it sends my senses into overdrive.
His lips hover above mine, his warm breath whispering across mine as he speaks softly, “See? That was easy when you let it be. One drink bunny, but I’ll be going with you.”
I hate it! I hate this! He makes me feel afraid. He makes my stomach flip. I don’t understand any of it. I despise the way he makes me want to lean into his embrace and kiss him back to see what it feels like.
I can feel his lips trail down the side of my neck to the point between my shoulder and the base of my neck. He nips me there, making me jump at the unexpected pain. Then he lightly suckles the skin to soothe the sting as he withdraws his lips. Everything inside my body tingles. I can feel moisture pooling between mylegs. Oh, wow… that was… wow!
“Now, little bunny. Your friend awaits. Pick up your purse and let’s get going.”
He drops my hands and thrusts away from me quickly forcing my upper body to push against the steel door. Righting myself on shaky legs, I turn to stare at the floor not wanting him to see how this is affecting me.
Heat is burning in my cheeks and he makes me feel afraid, excited, but most of all, desperate. Desperate that one tiny sliver of me hopes he could actually come to like me.
I reached down and snagged my purse and my coffee mug off the floor, righting myself to face him, I concentrate on his black silk dress shirt. He’s dressed in one of his black Armani suits today, and he looks incredible. The collar on his dress shirt is open slightly, and I can see a tuft of dark hair peeping through the partly open buttons. I just want to reach my hand out and touch it, feel the coarse hairs underneath my fingertips.
I turn to once again open the door. In a low voice, I mumble, “I’m not your bunny. My name is Isabella. And it’s only a block away, so I usually walk.”
I pull open the door; his large hand reaches above my head as he holds it open further. I stepped through and he’s right behind me.
