Page 55 of Becoming His Mistress

Okay, so I have the confidence anyway, but the underwear helps.

“It’s just really fucking disrespectful,” he goes on, in front of the entire deli while I take the paper bag of food from the barista guy. Even the guy behind the counter looks exhausted by him. Especially when he drags him into it. “Don’t you agree, as a guy?”

“I’m just here to work, sir,” the guy replies, and I mouth a sorry.

Pax keeps yapping at me as we walk but I’m no longer listening. I’m so over this conversation and I have been forever.

I wish we’d never started dating. I’ve never wished that before.

I’ve spoken to Izabella about this too because she’s older and wiser and she told me that Pax is sucking the life right out of me. I’m starting to think she’s right. How can such a handsome and charming guy be so high-maintenance?

He even fired Julia and hired a male receptionist so that I’d quit my job. He seemed to think that if he did that I’d go and work for him because I’m his girlfriend, or at the very least leave Ezra. I laughed it off and to say he got mad is an understatement.

His behavior is becoming alarming. It’s an everyday thing now.

I’m so done.

He continues yelling as we walk through the office building and into the elevator. He calls me ignorant and tells me over and over how I should see things from his point of view.

“I just don’t understand why you think you need——”

I snap, this is it. I’m done. I’m so done.

I place the deli bag on my desk and turn so sharply on Pax I startle him into silence.

“I’m breaking up with you,” I say simply, and he blinks slowly at me.

“Excuse me.”

“I’m done. It’s over.”

He laughs humorlessly, looking around to be sure that nobody is looking or listening. “You can’t be serious… you’re breaking up with me? Why? Because suddenly you’re sexy so you think you’re hot shit?”

“No, because you’re an absolute dick and you don’t make me happy anymore,” I reply angrily. “I’m sick and tired of having the same fucking argument every single day. I’m sick of hearing you whine and moan and bitch and God… I just… I don’t want this anymore so please leave me alone.”

“You love me. You’re not going to leave me.”

“Love you?” I laugh humorlessly. “I don’t even like you anymore. That trumps any feelings of love I have for you. Just find somebody else to verbally abuse, that’s not going to be me anymore.”

“You’re choosing him over me?” His blue eyes are wild with hurt pride and disgust. “He’s married. You’re nothing but a fucking whore.”

I gasp when he grabs Mr. Conti’s sandwich from my desk and stomps on it until the paper is ripped and there’s bagel all over the ground and mayonnaise smushed into the wooden floor amongst other things.

I don’t say anything else; I met a few guys who reacted like this back in foster care, it didn’t end well for the people around them.

He stalks away to his office and I don’t realize until I’m about to pick up the crushed bagel that Mr. C is in the hall with me.

“Leave it,” he insists, taking my hands before I can pick it up. We stand together and he guides me into his office, his gray eyes swimming with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.” He takes them both in his again. “Does he often react like that with you?”

“Not with me…” I’ve seen him throw tantrums over other things with other people but not like that.

His eyes wash over me and he rubs my arms with strong palms. “Are you frightened of him?”

“I wasn’t but…” I bite on my lip. “I’m sorry, this shouldn’t be happening, but he just doesn’t know when to stop. He goes on and on and on and it doesn’t matter where we are or who we’re with. You know?”

“I know, I’ve seen him on a rampage myself. He’s very argumentative.”

“I’m just tired of it,” I mutter, wishing I could rub my eyes but mascara. “So tired. I don’t have the energy to spend fighting with him anymore.”

“Do you need a hug?” he asks, his face set with a silly boyish smile, his arms wide.

I consider it, remembering our Christmas embrace, the one where he pressed his whole body to mine, how he inhaled my hair like it was his favorite scent in the world.

How I want so badly to feel that again.

“I’m okay,” I respond, feeling my cheeks heat at the memory.

He lets his arms drop to his sides and a look of rejection passes across his face, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “Just let me know if he bothers you at all, okay?”

“Thanks, boss,” I say, adding extra emphasis to the word boss, hoping he understands why I can’t hug him. I really wish I had though.

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