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“Or a hundred and sixty-seven years, rounded up.” He slowly stands, mouth curving into a sinister grin that causes me to subconsciously take a step back. “And that would be if I didn’t charge you interest, Miss Pierson, which would be an idiotic decision for a businessman like myself to make.”
There’s no denying the churning in my stomach.
“It would also be a ludicrous arrangement to allow a payment plan for which I would not be alive to see my return or its delivery to me.” His ass parks itself against the edge of his desk. “I’m going to wisely pass on your offer, Miss Pierson.”
“Please, Elias?” I lunge my hand outward, prepared to shake on it, voice pleading for him to change his mind. “Please, please take this deal?”
“No.”
The authority in his tone causes all the air in my lungs to vanish.
“And the next time you beg me for something, Miss Pierson, it better be my cock.”
I can’t catch my jaw from hitting the ground.
“As for the next time you threaten me,” he leans forward, eyes narrowed in a terrifying fashion, “well…perhaps the lesson I’m about to give will have you reconsidering such an asinine notion.”
Fear doesn’t have a chance to hop onto my face.
“Sit.”
Anxious to hold onto the tiniest bit of strength I came in here with, I challenge back, “Or what?”
“Or I will add another inch to the punishment.” Elias reaches behind him to retrieve a pair of red handled scissors to indicate what’s coming. “I don’t think either of us wants that, Zel.”
My eyes widen the width of the room as my hands fly up to mouth.
He’s planning to cut my hair?!
He wants to cut my fucking hair?!
No!
No!
There’s no…no way that’s going to happen!
That… that can’t happen.
Panic spirals my mind back to the one time I can remember a cut happening that wasn’t supposed to. I was only four. I had snuck into Tomas’s backpack, took his school scissors, and cut myself bangs to match the cartoon character of my favorite TV show. Mom lost her shit like I had never seen before. She chided me for hours about how special my hair was, how it was a crown you should never take off. One that I should nurture and love and never disrespect again. From then on, a trim here and a trim there was all I ever let myself have, and at her hands or mine because we couldn’t exactly afford great salons.
My hair is mine…
Only. Mine.
He can’t cut it.
He just…he can’t.
“Now, sit down, little doll.” Elias uses the object to point to the leather chair next to me. “And make sure to hold still.”
