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I felt worthless. Naïve. Angry.
How much time had I wasted on him? Why couldn’t I seem to escape him?
Why can’t he see me?
Does it even matter anymore?
I felt too exposed here. Too other. I needed to run. To hide. To never see him again.
My legs shot an ache up through my spine as I started to move, attempting to stand. This damn dress made it difficult to move properly. So did my shoes. And his knees weren’t helping. I refused to touch him. Refused to let him help me.
He’d abandoned me.
He’d thrown my title back at me, reminding me of my place and dismissing my needs.
Some foreign part of me hated him for that.
I’d shown him my vulnerability, submitting to his control… and he’d twisted it. Cursed at it. Degraded it.
I would never forgive him for this.
“Jenica,” he breathed, his hands going to my shoulders as I fought to stand.
“Let me go,” I said, despising him more than I’d ever thought possible. “I hate you.”
He reared back like I’d struck him. “Jenica.”
“Don’t.” I needed to run. To hide. To not let him see me cry.
But it was already too late.
Tears were streaming down my cheeks, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces. “You never saw me at all,” I whispered brokenly. It felt like a decade of pain had just slammed into me at once.
He’ll never understand.
It was hopeless.
I twisted from his grip, only to lose my balance because of my uncooperative legs.
He caught me again, his hands on my hips as he lifted me into the air. I wanted to fight him, to scream, to pound at his shoulders and demand he release me, but I had no strength left.
I felt weak, like all the air had been sucked from my lungs, my limbs lifeless and incapable of movement.
It was terrifying.
“I need a room,” I heard him saying. “Now.”
I shuddered, the dominance in his tone seeming to ground me once more. But only for a moment because the club started to spin again around me.
I couldn’t feel my legs.
It was as though I were walking on air.
Well, not walking. Floating.
He’s carrying me.
I tried to frown, but I couldn’t. Maybe because I was already frowning. My cheeks were damp, my lips dry.
