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“I have a strong memory.”
“Whatever.” She’s still smiling as she gets on her tiptoes. At her closeness, images from two years ago rush back in.
But it’s different now. So, so different.
It doesn’t feel odd or fucking disturbing that she’s close. Unlike then, I don’t question my morals or my damn humanity. They can fuck off.
Gwyneth doesn’t kiss me, not on the mouth, anyway. Her lips graze my stubble as she gets back on the soles of her feet. “Thank you for talking to me about Dad. I don’t know how I would’ve done this without you, Nate.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck!
I get slammed by that tinge of possessiveness that strangles the fucking life out of me.
And this time, all I can think about are the words I told my best friend the day I visited him right after I released my beast on his daughter.
I’m taking away your little angel, King, and she won’t be pure and innocent anymore, because I’m taking that away, too. I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do. I don’t know what exactly she is to me or where we’ll go from here. But I know one thing for sure.
Gwyneth is now mine.
20
Gwyneth
You know when you’re happy but feel like everything will eventually turn into an epic clusterfuck?
Yeah, that’s me right now.
Because it’s been so peaceful these last couple of days, so happy, so wholesome. Dad even moved his hand in mine when I went to visit him the day after my talk with Nate. He squeezed it, just the slightest bit, and I nearly fainted from happiness.
The doctor didn’t give me much hope and said it was most likely a subconscious motor reaction and doesn’t mean anything, but I don’t believe that. I’m sure Dad wants to wake up. Besides, he was welcoming me back because it’s been some time since I last visited him.
I apologized for wanting to bury him while he’s still alive. I told him that I didn’t mean to and that I just didn’t want him to abandon me like my mom did, and at that exact moment, he squeezed my hand.
So yeah, the doctor is wrong, because Dad was listening and responded to me, so I know he’s there, that he didn’t leave me.
That he’s not my mother.
My spirits shot up after that and I’ve continued to visit him almost every chance I get, telling him about my day and then working on the assignments Nate gives me.
God, he’s such a strict jerk.
A gorgeous one, but a jerk nonetheless. He has no chill whatsoever when it comes to work—even though he doesn’t mind ordering me around on his desk or on his sofa toeat my pussyas he says. It stopped being mine the moment he called it his.
But other than that, he doesn’t take it easy on me. Hell, he can be difficult on purpose, because he’s an asshole like that.
I know Nate’s character enough to not have any misconceptions about getting preferential treatment, but the least he can do is treat me like the other partners do their interns. I don’t see any of them being given a hard time like I am.
It’s a bit different when we’re home alone. He comes to watch me bake now and doesn’t mind the loud music,I don’t think. And I’ve been on a mission to find him a hobby, so over the last week we played card games, board games, and all the games I could think of. I lost every time, and Nate was like, “Next.” So we watched a selection of movies and did outdoorsy activities, such as picnics and camping in the garden. I don’t think he cared for any of them, but he indulged me. All while telling me to give up already.
I won’t.
It’s not okay that he enjoys nothing. So I’ll find him something as a token of my gratitude for all the happiness he’s bringing me these days.
And orgasms.
Dirty,dirtyorgasms.
