Chapter 20 #2
Steam starts to fill the bathroom, and I step into the stall, closing the door behind me. For weeks, bathing has become almost a ritual, and it feels wrong to just wash without feeling any of the care I’ve gotten used to associating with the action.
Lathering my skin and hair, my hands move robotically, simply going through the motions. Once I’m done, I turn off the shower and step into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself.
Spotting my reflection in the mirror, I hate the hollow look I can see in my eyes, but I ignore it and rub my arms, blotting my hair to soak up the water that’s dripping from the ends. Once I’m dry, I brush out my hair, then pick up my hair dryer, realizing I haven’t styled my own hair in weeks.
Knight takes care of it for me, and it feels foreign to hold the dryer up, watching absently as the strands start to dry. I can hear the sound of his voice, but I ignore it, refusing to process his words.
When he dries my hair, he tends to divide it into pigtails, but today, I pull it up into a high bun on top of my head, not bothering with any of the bows or clips I usually use. Tightening the towel around me, I turn the lock, then open the door, finding an agitated Knight blocking my exit.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, refusing to make eye contact with my husband as I turn to the side and slide past his enormous body, keeping my arms wrapped around myself so that I don’t accidentally touch him.
“Octavia,” he growls, reaching for me.
Darting forward, I avoid his touch, striding to the closet and throwing the door open wide. He’s behind me a moment later, but I ignore him, slipping panties and a bra on before I discard the towel to the floor and stride toward the rail.
Slipping a pair of trousers from the hanger, I pull them on, smoothing the lace down my thighs.
The kick flare pants have built-in hot pants to add a little modesty, but are completely sheer from mid-thigh down to my feet.
Pairing it with a purple faux corset top that accentuates my barely there breasts, I complete the outfit with chunky black sneakers with a thick platform sole and shiny chrome buckles and fastenings on them.
It’s the first time I’ve worn pants since I came to Rockhead Point, mainly because I prefer skirts and dresses. But today, not only does this outfit make me look like a badass, it also makes it a lot harder for Knight to get anywhere near my pussy.
If he wants to disregard me, then I’ll do the same to him, and he can see how he likes it.
Once I’m dressed, I march past him, enjoying the extra height my sneakers give me. Back in the bathroom, I apply my makeup, only instead of my usual heavy black eyeliner, I give myself a full, dewy, soft Lolita face, complete with lilac eye shadow and pouty glossed lips.
Knight is only inches behind me when I pack the last of my makeup away and turn around. Smiling, I twist to the side and step around him, marching purposefully for the door as he spins around to trail after me.
“Octavia,” he says, calling my name.
“I’m driving today,” I tell him, walking into the kitchen long enough to turn off the warmer on the oven.
“Your breakfast—” he starts.
“I’ll grab something on the way to the studio,” I announce.
Taking the keys to the car Knight arranged for me, but that I haven’t driven yet, I stomp into the garage and press the button on the fob.
When the car beeps, I open the driver’s door and slide into the seat, feeling Knight’s imposing frame only inches behind me.
“I’ll drive us,” he says, leaning into the car, his huge body dominating the space.
“No thanks. I feel like a change. Plus, I haven’t driven this car since you got it for me. It seems a shame for it to just sit in the garage. Are you coming with me, or are you staying here today?” I ask, my voice a little too sweet, a little too upbeat.
“I’ll. Drive,” he says, steely.
“Either get in, or get out of the way,” I tell him, reaching for my seat belt and clicking it into place before I hit the button to start the engine.
“I drive,” he says, like he thinks reminding me of the status quo will help him right now.
“Not today,” I say in a singsong tone, keeping my gaze facing forward toward the garage door that is slowly opening.
Leaning into the car, he reaches over me like he plans to either unfasten my seat belt or turn off the engine.
“I’m leaving in three seconds. If you’re not in the car, I’ll assume you’re not coming.
But either way, I am driving my car to work today,” I say through clenched teeth, refusing to let the tears that are still burning at the back of my eyes fall again.
He takes a step back, and for a moment I think he plans on letting me go, but instead he closes my door, then rounds the car and slides into the passenger seat. The moment his door is closed, I accelerate forward, shooting out of the garage a little too quickly.
I make the twenty-minute drive to the studio far faster than I should, turning up the music on the radio every time Knight tries to speak.
His body is so tense by the time I park the car on the street outside the studio that if I weren’t so upset and hurt, I’d be concerned about him breaking a tooth from how hard he’s been clenching his jaw.
But I am hurt, so instead of doing anything to make him feel better, I kill the car’s engine, unfasten my seat belt, and jump out before he can offer to help me. Instead of going to the studio, I start walking in the opposite direction, toward Tori’s bakery, which is a few blocks away.
“Octavia,” Knight growls, catching up to me quickly and reaching for my hand.
“No,” I growl, ripping my hand out of his before he has a chance to close his fingers around mine.
“You’re upset,” he says, stating the obvious.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I hiss, lengthening my stride in an attempt to get away from him, but he matches my pace, his longer legs easily keeping up with me.
“Octa—”
Cutting him off before he can even finish saying my name, I shush him, flashing him a withering look before turning back in the direction I’m stomping. Tears fill my eyes the moment I spot the bakery, but I blink them away, pushing the glass door open with both hands and stepping inside.
Tori is standing behind the counter, stocking the glass display case with some kind of pastry filled with cream. Her lips pull into a smile when she spots us, then dip into a frown when her gaze lands on my face.
“Good morn—” Stopping mid-word, she glances over my shoulder to Knight, then back to me again. “Oh,” she says.
“I’m hungry,” I announce, emotion lacing my words.
“Okay,” she says, nodding. “Chocolate, cream, or full-blown comfort food?” she asks, focusing all her attention on me.
I don’t know what she sees on my face, but before I can answer, she nods, steps around the counter, and pulls me forward.
“Knight, I need you to watch the counter for a minute. I have something I want Octy to try, but my day staff just called in sick, and the relief can’t make it in for another thirty minutes. ”
Not waiting for Knight to agree, she tows me behind the counter, through the kitchen, and into a dry storage area with a walk-in refrigerator behind it.
“What the hell is going on? I love him like a brother, but I have brothers, so I know how to kick a dude’s ass,” she hisses.
A sob slips from my lips before I can speak, and my eyesight blurs with tears.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, pulling me into her arms and hugging me tightly.
I allow myself a full minute to fall apart before I suck in a shaky breath and push out of her hug. “I’m fine,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as her.
“Clearly, you’re not. Do you want to talk about it, or do you just want me to find you something sugary to eat?”
“Sugary,” I admit, feeling bad for coming here and involving her in our drama, then crying all over her.
“Okay, I can do that. I was actually experimenting this morning, so it’s kind of good timing.
” Taking my hand, she tugs me back into the kitchen and toward a small tray full of something made of chocolate.
“These are mini chocolate mousse cakes. I tend to stick to French patisserie, but I mean, who doesn’t love chocolate? ”
Spinning around, she grabs a spoon, hands it to me, then pushes the tray toward me.
“Try. Let me know what you think.”
Digging the spoon into the cake, I lift it to my mouth, then moan so loudly it sounds indecent.
“Good?” she questions, smiling widely.
Nodding, I take a second spoonful, moaning just as wantonly as with the first bite.
Still smiling, Tori turns and does something on the counter in front of her, then spins back and decorates one of the cakes with a swirl of something and garnishes it with a sliced and fanned strawberry.
“Try that,” she says, pointing at the embellished cake. “Tell me if it’s better or worse.”
Not having to be told twice, I dig my spoon into the next cake and lift it to my mouth. I don’t know what the swirl is, but it tastes like a rich custard and complements the chocolate and strawberry so well it’s like a taste explosion in my mouth.
A fresh surge of tears falls from my eyes, but I wipe them away with my arm, pointing at the cake with my spoon and nodding.
“Better?” Tori asks.
I nod again.
“Keep eating. Do you want to try the macaron of the day?”
I start to nod, then shake my head, remembering that the doctor gave me a pamphlet about foods I shouldn’t eat while I’m pregnant, and that nuts were at the top of the list.
“Oh, I have these amazing lemon tarts. Let me go grab one.” Darting away, she heads into the shop, then bursts back into the kitchen carrying a gorgeous-looking tart on a sheet of paper branded with the shop’s name.
“Eat. These are my favorites right now. I’ve had to put them in the display case before I eat them all. ”