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Chapter thirty-nine
This thing—whatever it was—between Chandler and me was like a shot of morphine. It had the power to either numb you or kill you, depending on the dose. When I was with him, nothing else existed—the pain of my mother’s death, the fear of being far from home, and the sting of betrayal from my father. When I was with Chandler, I was numb to it all.
And then there were moments like last night when he shut me out, and right now when he left me alone in my room, when it felt like I was losing my breath to the cold stillness.
I heard him leave early this morning, heard the running water from his shower, then the clicking of his bedroom door when he pulled it closed. Then the silence.
I was just about to crawl out of bed and run a hot bath when he wrenched open my bedroom door. “Pack your things. We’re leaving.”
“What?” I jumped out of bed, still in my tank top and pajama bottoms. “Now?” He’d given my father five days. Today was day four.
“Is it the language barrier thing again?”Asshole.His voice was cold. Apparently, we were right back where we started. “I said pack your fucking things.” His back was to me as he walked out the door.
Iwantedto yell, “Did last night not mean anything at all?”
I actually yelled, “I’m not doing shit until you tell me what’s going on. Did my da do what you asked?”
He charged back into the room, stopping inches from me. “All you need to know is that we’re leaving.” His green eyes were filled with emotions I couldn’t pinpoint, a storm of them swirling in the emerald depths. “You’re going home.” The corners of his mouth curled into a cruel grin. “To your fiancé.”
There it was, the cold chill of an overdose, freezing the air in my lungs.How did he find out?Out of all our conversations, this was the one I’d hoped to avoid. That engagement meant nothing, not anymore. And as soon as I got home, it wouldbenothing. But I couldn’t beg him for his truth and not give him mine.
“I can explain that.”
“Don’t bother.”
I sucked in a breath, refusing to lie down and die.Rebellious.“It’s an arranged marriage.” I swallowed, nervous, but needing to tell him the truth. “I don’t even know him. We never see each other. It’s not like we’re dating. I wouldn’t even call us friends.” And once I told him the truth that there was no way I could marry him now, we would probably be enemies.
Before I took another breath, Chandler had me pinned against a wall. Every hard inch of him pressed against every soft part of me as he pierced me with his stare. “What would you call us?” He cocked his head to the side. “Arewefriends?”
I didn’t know the answer to that.
“I don’t think we are, Princess.”Princess.Not Little Rebel. My heart felt like it was on fire, aching and burning. At any moment, all he had to do was reach inside and crush it in his hands, and it would blow away like ash. “And yet, my dick was pounding your cervix like a goddamn jackhammer last night.” His eyes darkened. “Save your story for someone who cares.”
I exhaled, defeated. I was so tired of playing. My body was drained. My mind was exhausted. My heart was lying on the floor in a pile of shame and broken promises.
Shoulders back.
Chin up.
Smile.
Mind your manners.
Never raise your voice.
Wear the mask.
That was my first mistake, letting the mask slip.
I slid it back into place, giving him a polite, practiced smile. “Jealousy isn’t your color.”
A long silence stretched between us. Only the sound of our harsh breaths could be heard. The dark tendrils of desire bloomed inside me, like a tangible thing, binding us together.
“You think this is jealous?” His voice vibrated with a fierce possession. “Here’s the deal; I don’t give two fucks who came before me.” He trailed his fingertip along the cut on my chest. The cut wasn’t deep, just enough to break skin and draw blood, but the flesh was still sensitive. Throbbing and tender.Like the rest of me.“Because after me, no one will compare.” He pressed on the cut, splitting it open, then glancing down at the droplets of blood on his fingertip. “I’m in your bloodstream.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine while cradling my face in both hands. “You haven’t seen jealous. Not yet.” He grazed the tip of his nose along mine. “Now, take it off.”
I blinked in confusion. “What?”
“That godforsaken mask that you reserve for people who don’t fucking matter.” He ran the back of his finger along the side of my face, tenderly, reverently, letting his own mask tumble to the ground, even if for a moment. “You don’t get to wear it with me. Not anymore.”
