21. June
June
Dominic lied to me. More so than he normally does. He took advantage of how much I wanted alone time with him and manipulated me into thinking he actually wanted to get away with me.
He fucked me. Over and over and over again. And what finally put the nail in the proverbial casket was when I realized all that fucking was to distract me from his ulterior motive. Leave it to him to have one. He’s conniving, scheming, and infuriates the ever-loving shit out of me.
I rush through the opening of the entry gate before it closes and slip out onto the sidewalk. The night air is cool and warm all at once, but littered with pollution from the city. It's much different than in Washington, that's for sure.
I huff and stomp my feet down the empty sidewalk and try to shake off the entire experience.
I can't believe I fell for Dom's charade.
I ate up every minute of it and thought he cared.
That he missed our time together and wanted some of it to tide him over until whatever made-up fucking deadline he created.
Was the whole making me wait another week even real or another one of his elaborate lies to prevent me from begging him for the truth?
Has any of this been real? Or was I just a game to him? A quest that he conquered and no longer is bothered with?
"Love, wait up," Simon calls out to me from the shadows.
I startle at the sound of his voice—I was so lost in my own fucking head I didn’t hear him running to catch up to me.
“Leave me alone, Simon, please.” I continue down the dim street.
"Sorry, love. No can do." He joins me at my side. "You can be pissed. I'm not telling you otherwise, but you'll have to do it with me."
“I can’t fucking think with you around!” I yell at him. “You’re all…” I point at him. “You.” I push forward. “It’s fucking distracting.”
“Um, well. Sorry?” Simon strolls beside me, his steps slow compared to my choppy, short ones. It’s almost like his pace is insulting mine because of how much shorter my legs are than his.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then let’s not talk about it.”
“It just pisses me off so much.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?” He glances over at me.
“I’m fucking mad. I don’t know what I want.”
Simon throws his arms up. “That’s fair enough.”
“Do you know where they were last night?” I stop and face him, studying every single feature I can make out on his beautiful face to see if he’s lying.
“No. Do you?”
I sigh. “No. But it was something sketchy.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Dom got me out of town so they could do it.” I pause again. “Where were you last night?”
“Simmer down, love. I watched the new Keanu movie and took a freaking bubble bath. I was in bed by ten.”
I narrow my gaze and assess his words—the pitch of his voice.
I’ve been around Simon enough to know when he’s lying.
There’s this trivial twitch of his lip and sometimes the octave of his voice changes ever so slightly.
It isn’t much, but I can tell. And I don’t see any of that here.
He's never lied to me about anything major, just silly stuff, like how he liked a certain food or his preference for something.
Nothing life or death or that would make me lose my trust in him.
“I promise,” Simon adds.
“Well,” I start forward again. “I’m glad you got an evening to yourself.”
“You know I would have rather been with you.”
I side-eye him. “I’ve been lied to enough today, Simon.”
Simon wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me to his chest. “I missed the shit out of you, love.” He squeezes me tightly and then releases me, not wanting to overstep the boundary any more than he already has.
“Believe it or not, I kind of missed you, too.” I nudge him with my elbow. “But if you tell anyone, I will cut you.”
He pretends to zip his mouth shut and throws the key into the bushes next to us. “Lips are sealed, love.”
Headlights illuminate the street and Simon steadies his hand on his gun as they pass. They drive down the road and disappear from sight.
“You’re awful jumpy tonight,” I tell him.
“Well, you’re always finding yourself in dangerous situations, love.”
"Maybe it's the men I keep around."
“Without a doubt, but I think we both know you go looking for trouble.”
“Obviously.” I skim my fingers along the leaves of the tree I pass below and pluck one off. “Speaking of.” I pick at the leaf in my grasp. “Can we go do something again? Take a ride on your bike or something?”
Simon clutches his hand to his chest and gasps. “Are you using me, love?”
I deadpan. “Using, utilizing, whatever. We have fun together, are you denying that?”
“Not at all.” Simon drops his hand along with his act of fake hurt. “But it’s only a matter of time until one of your boyfriends finds out and puts a stop to it. What if they hire someone to replace me? Then you'll be stuck with some stick-in-his-ass grunt who has no personality."
“You have a personality?” I tease him.
Simon shrugs. “I’m the coolest person I know.”
“You wish.”
Another set of headlights brightens the street and passes, only this time, they distract me from the other set that comes at us from the right, and the ones that drive up onto the sidewalk behind us and block our path completely.
A man jumps from one of the vehicles and Simon reaches for his gun but it's too late, the guy tackles him to the ground and hits him across the face, knocking him out cold.
I watch in horror as the man I was taunting a mere moment ago lies motionless on the ground.
I swing to hit the person who comes toward me, but I don't land a good enough punch.
They overpower me and press a cloth against my face, the same thing that had been done when I was kidnapped all those months ago.
I claw at my attacker, digging my fingers along their skin, but it's no use, whatever lines the fabric renders me unconscious within seconds.
I wake in a foggy state, my eyes blinking and desperately trying to see through the dimly lit area.
I tug at my hands but they’re tied to the armrests of the chair I’m sitting in.
My legs are secured to the chair, too. All of my limbs held in fucking place.
My shoes crinkle against the plastic covering the ground.
I take in my surroundings, finally settling my sights on a few feet in front of me.
The beautiful man I've spent nearly every day with for the last six months is bound to a chair, too.
His face is bloodied from the blow to his head and his nose is bent like it's broken.
His head hangs loosely in place, and I've never wanted more than to reach out and touch him.
I stare at his chest, holding my breath in hopes that his will rise and fall.
It's shallow, but I sigh in relief at seeing there still be life in him.
A single bulb dangles between us, giving off minimal light to fill the eerie space.
With its metallic and dirty scent, it leads me to believe we're in an industrial building.
I pause and listen intently in hopes of picking up any clue as to where we are.
Water sounds from a distance, and the second I recognize it, I pick up the faintest trace of it in the air.
“Ah, I see the little bitch is up,” a man calls out as he moves toward me.
“Why don’t you untie me and say that again?” I wriggle against my restraints.
“That’s fucking cute.” He comes into my line of sight. His hair is a mess, matted down on his head. His rancid fucking breath turns my stomach. He holds a knife in his grasp and points it at me.
I swallow the familiarity of the situation.
Same way of kidnapping me. Same type of weapon to torture me.
If I didn’t already kill my attacker, I’d venture to say this is the work of the same man.
But I sliced his throat and carried his blood home on me until I showered it off, rinsing him and that experience down the drain.
That was the night something sparked to life within me.
Simon had witnessed it as I sliced the blade through that man’s neck.
My men try to ignore what awoke inside me but there’s no denying that kind of darkness.
The more you try to snuff it out, the wickeder it gets.
And now here I am, face to fucking face with a copycat version of that man I killed.
My past is coming back to haunt me and test whether or not I'll make it out again.
Only this time I'm not that same weak girl.
No, I'm a sadistic bitch with enough anger coursing through me to burn this whole place down.
I just have to bide my time and figure out how the fuck I’m going to get Simon and me out of this.
“Come back,” I tell him when he walks away from me and toward Simon. “I thought we were going to have a little fun.”
But he doesn’t listen. “Have to wake your boyfriend up first.” He pokes the tip of his blade into Simon’s cheek until blood runs down his neck, and he snaps to life.
Simon gasps and writhes, and within a second, his eyes lock onto mine. A million emotions flash over his face, and I recognize every fucking one of them. Concern. Anger. Fury. They struggle to take their turn in the spotlight. “Let her go and take me.”
I narrow my gaze at him. Like fucking hell.
The man laughs. "I will do no such thing. This was a two-for-one deal, and I will not lose out because of some pathetic bargaining."
“You don’t want her. She’s nobody to you.” Simon continues to beg. “I can give you whatever you want. Money. Cars. Women. Anything you want, name it, it’s yours. Just let her go.”
“You think I came for you, son?” He chuckles dryly. “The hit was on her, not you, pretty boy.” He draws his arm back and slams his fist across Simon’s face. “Now shut up before I cut out your tongue.”