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I slept. I can’t believe I actually slept. In the bed too. I woke late and only when Marguerite came into the room.
She brought breakfast. I’m so hungry I couldn’t be difficult if I tried.
Clothes are brought in for me, the expensive stuff. Everything is designer made and cost more money than I make in a year.
I guess I’m supposed to be grateful, but I’m not. I have my own clothes, and I need to work.
I can’t quite explain to anyone how hard I worked to get to where I am today. Mind, body, and soul. This is the second day I’ve missed at work, and I really doubt Freddie is going to understand any lame excuse I may give him.
Vincent said he would take care of it… What the hell would he have said to Freddie?
And Dad…. Where is he? I still don’t know.
The rest of the day passes and infuriates me.
Despite the way Vincent fucked me last night, I still had to go to the doctor, where I was given the contraceptive injection with instructions to come off the pill in seven days when the injection kicked in. I already felt it was a complete invasion of my privacy, but then the fucking STD test took invasion of privacy to another level.
I couldn’t have been more humiliated. It brought up memories I don’t want to ever remember. Other than my standard checkups at the gynecologists and pill checks, I tend to steer clear of the doctors.
Of course, I was clean, and I never had to go through any of that shit, but I guess I’m getting the picture of the type of control freak Vincent is.
To add insult to injury, I was informed on my arrival back at the house that Vincent wanted to see me.
I’m making my way to his office now. It’s on the ground floor and at the back of the house by the turn of the corridor that leads into the kitchen.
I’m walking, but my legs feel like jelly.
I’m like a mindless automaton set to do what I’m told, no matter if I like it or not.
I hate it that I still don’t know anything about Dad other than that he’s safe, and I really hated today.
I know this is on me. I’m choosing to be here. I insisted and all but begged. So, that means I have to play by the rules. His rules.
I didn’t know what to expect, and I’m not sure if anyone would be able to understand that my choice to be here barely felt like a choice.
This all feels like I’m in some kind of nightmare.
And… there’s what happened between us last night.
Last night is still in my mind. Me and him together, having wild, out-of-control sex like we wanted each other.
My damn head is still spinning. I can’t believe I behaved that way with a man I don’t know.
All day yesterday, I wondered what the first time would be like. I wondered what he’d be like. I didn’t expect him to take me in such a way that it left me breathless and so lightheaded. There were points where I felt like I was going to float away.
I shudder to think what that must mean, because it felt real to me.
I should know the difference between what’s real and what’s not. I think I can take claim to knowing if nothing else, and last night, there was genuine want and desire from both of us.
What will tonight be like?
I get to the door to his office and stop to catch my breath and right my mind. I look over the door and try to imagine what he’s doing inside.
The door is made of oak and old-fashioned with a golden lion’s head set in the top center of it. It kind of gives me the creeps. Not that I’ve had the grand tour of the place, but this part of the house feels older, a little like the library. Marguerite took me there this morning and tried to do that comfort thing again with her cookies. She said I could read any book I wanted, and I could hang out in there or take a few back to the room.
Pulling in a deep breath, I knock on the door and gear myself up.
“Come in,” he answers, his voice a low timbre that’s already doing things to me.
