AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His head tilts, and all that stares at me is a dark mask that reads No Fate. "What is it?" he asks.
Asshole.
I did not want to look stupid or desperate for coming here, seeking his attention. He is obviously annoyed I sought him out. My pride kicks in.
"I would like to go shopping. I need a couple of things," I say sternly.
He leans back in his chair and folds his tattooed hands together over the glass. "Is it urgent?"
"Yes."
He waves his hand, dismissing me. "Fine, go."
"I need a way to pay. Or do I still need to ask my father? Maybe I could get a job."
He chuckles. "I bought you from your father so that isn't going to work. And you don't need a job because you were working last night for me so that would mean I would have to foot the bill. Especially since you're Mrs. Cross." Leaning forward in his chair, he reaches for a late-model clear phone and hands it to me. "This is for you, dear wife. Be gentle."
I walk closer and take it from him, gripping the sides of the device and wanting nothing more than to snap it in half. If he only knew that I hate being dependent on him. Anger boils in my veins. I’m tired of being subjected to a man's power.
I know he’s treating me like this because he wants to make sure the message is set in stone. What he doesn't want to say in words, his actions are more than enough.
Last night meant nothing in the light of day.
I'm sure I wasn't enough to satisfy him. He didn't even stay the night, and after he was done, he didn't kiss me. Now that I think about it, he gave me his back. I was exhausted, and all I remember was reaching out and feeling his skin, but he never turned around to hold me. He probably waited until I fell asleep to slip out of the room.
Tears prick the back of my eyes. You can't make someone love you. I thought he was different. He was the mystery man I could never forget at the party when I was sixteen. The one who intrigued me with his words. I thought him confirming it was him meant that we had some sort of connection. I couldn't have been more wrong. I was a target.
A thought flickers in my mind. What happens to me after he gets what he wants from me?
I take a step back, hating that I can't see his face. I want to see his expression, but at the same time, I don't because I'm scared of what I would see.
Indignation flares up inside me at his tone because I'm not a woman who takes advantage of a man with money. I wish I could say the same for him, but that would be pointless. He’ll just remind me of all the reasons he can't love me.
"I'm not like that, but of course, you wouldn't know what I'm like."
He tilts his head to the side in that creepy way he does when he has his mask on. "I think I know exactly what you're like. Especially…how you taste."
I don’t want to fall for his shit or allow him to intimidate me. He has his mind made up on what he thinks of me. I cross my arms over my chest, device in hand, and square my shoulders.
"What happens to me after I give you what you want?" I ask.
He knows I mean after I give him a child. The tension suddenly becomes thick and stifling. My stomach plummets because the silence tells me what I feared. What do men do when they get what they need? They eliminate and move on.
Just like my father. After my mother died giving birth to me, I overheard that my father had already brought women into the house, and he didn't bother with tradition in giving my mother the respect a husband gives when he loses his wife.
"I let you go."
I curl my lip. If he thinks I would willingly leave my child behind, he is out of his mind.
"I'm not abandoning my child."
"I don't think you have a choice. You leave, or I get rid of you."
My eyes pool with tears, and a knot lodges in my throat.
Why does he have to be so cruel? He blows hot and cold with me, and I have done nothing.
"Why?" I ask in a shaky voice, hating that it betrays my feelings.
