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“For you.” I rush to say before he erupts. “I’ve done it all for you.”
He refuses to look at me, but when he turns around, he sends one of the chairs flying. The toe of his shoe connects with the back of the chair, and it shoots forward, slamming into the edge of the table hard enough to crack the wood.
“You’ve done it for yourself. Otherwise, you would have alerted me to every one of your movements,” he growls. “Did you think you could hide from me?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” My voice trembles.
“Your little jaunt with the cops today? You must think I’m stupid. Or blind. Perhaps too old to be in this game, and you were counting on my senility?”
“No, Master.” I gulp over the word, swallowing hard. “I was taken by surprise.”
He does know. Of course, he knows.
He stalks toward me, all feral grace, and wraps his fingers around my neck again. Biting down just hard enough to let me know I’m only breathing because he wants me to. “You are never going to be the head of this family, Aria. I need you to remember this before you go off on your own again. I know every move you make, and those I don’t, I find out immediately.”
He shoves me back on the table, tearing at my skirt, ripping the fabric, and leaving marks on my skin from the friction.
“Please,” I whisper. Not sure what I’m begging for. Mercy. An end to him flipping out. An end to the pain his words bring.
“You want leniency and compassion, then you’re looking at the wrong man.” He doesn't remove his clothes this time, either. Only slams into me before I’m prepared. “Now, who owns you?”
It’s a chat where we both know the lines, and the answer is one I’ve given too many times to count.
I’ll never lead this family, I repeat mentally through his rough, damaging thrusts. But I love him.
And I’ll work harder.
* * *
I flop down on the mattress, the soft cloud of my sheets, comforter, and pillows enveloping me. Let me stay here. And never leave. I swipe at my burning eyes, drawing away the last bits of dried tears and gunk. Let me stay here and not go back to work because work and the boss are breaking my heart right now.
I should have expected it.
Broderick doesn’t like anyone getting close to his level of power, not even the people he grooms. He’ll never retire; I’d been right. Or if he does retire, then he’ll never consider me for his replacement. Was I the stupid bitch so in love with him that I was willing to break myself to prove my worth?
Yes, probably.
My headache from earlier only gets worse when I refuse to cry anymore, growing from a dull ache to something I’ll need medication to eradicate.
Good, great. Now would definitely be the time to drink if I actually did. Instead, I roll over, pulling open the drawer of my nightstand and dragging out a bag of peach gummy rings. The shitty kind that tastes like fake peach, but they’re so good you can eat a whole bag in one sitting. I’ve been nursing this bag for a couple of days.
Talk about willpower.
Like the willpower it took to not break down until I actually got home, despite a few leaked tears.
The first two gummy rings are attached to each other, which has to be good luck.
I’m working on numbers five and six when a knock sounds at the door, the sound so unexpected I sit up, hair flying in my face. Who in the world is knocking on my door at quarter to midnight?
I stuff the bag, vowing to come back and demolish it, and shuffle on sore feet, pussy just as sore, toward the peephole.
Well.
Well, well.
Color me surprised.
The instant of immediate attraction diminishes the longer I stare at Devan. The detective showing upat my buildingis not a good thing, no matter what kind of flippy flop my heart gives in my chest. What the fuck?
