Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Anton
A sob-like gasp choked from Serena’s lips. Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto mine, pulling me out of the abyss. My breath stilled, the room around me slamming into focus.
The moonlight filtering in through heavy drapes. The hotel. The suite.
The now.
Not then.
Jerry was gone. I’d made sure of that.
My arm was still pressed against her throat, her body pinned beneath mine. I trembled as I pulled away so fast, it was like I’d touched fire. A ragged curse tore from my lips, and I scrambled off her toward the edge of the bed.
I ran a shaky hand down my face, trying to force fresh air into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My skin was damp, burning and freezing all at once. Flashes of the dream— the memory—still clung to me like an unescapable tar pulling me down until I suffocated.
I quickly moved to turn on the beside light and dared a glance at Serena. She hadn’t moved. Her breathing came quick and shallow, her eyes wide as she stared at me in shock. Her arms were still above her head where I’d pinned them, as if she were afraid to move them.
My stomach twisted at the sight.
“Serena,” I rasped, my voice wrecked. “I—I didn’t?—”
The words died on my tongue.
This is so fucked up. What can I say to make this better?
She swallowed, slowly lowering her arms to place her hands over the reddening skin of her throat.
I did that.
I wanted to be sick.
Another tremor ripped through me. I had fought my way out of hell, built my life into something untouchable, unstoppable. But in the end, the past had always been waiting in the dark, preparing for the perfect moment to drag me back.
And now, she’d seen it.
I raked a hand through my damp hair and forced myself off the bed. My legs weren’t steady, like I’d just stepped out of the ring after a knockout fight, as I made my way across the room toward the wet bar. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured, watching the amber liquid fill the tumbler. Then I picked up the glass, my fingers clenching it tighter than necessary, and took a long swig.
Behind me, Serena shifted, the rustle of sheets cutting through the heavy silence.
“Anton… what happened?” she asked, cautiously.
I didn’t turn to look at her. I couldn’t. Not yet. I also couldn’t answer her at that moment. I needed a second to put the pieces together, to make sense of why the past had clawed its way out of the grave tonight of all nights. I thought about the little boy I’d seen earlier in the alleyway. Perhaps that had been the trigger. I didn’t know, but nothing else made sense.
I knocked back the rest of the whiskey in one swallow. It wasn’t the good stuff I was used to, but it would still do the job. The burn grounded me to the present, but it didn’t drown out the helplessness that had accompanied the nightmare.
It wasn’t real.
But fuck, it had felt real.
I turned back to face Serena, keeping my expression unreadable. She was sitting up now, the sheets clutched to her naked chest, but her focus never wavered from me. Her brow was furrowed, lips parted slightly as she searched my face for something I wasn’t sure I could give her.
“It was just a nightmare,” I said, my voice rough. I exhaled sharply, rubbing my hand over my jaw as if the action would crush the tension. “Nothing to worry about. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
She didn’t blink, nor did she seem to like my answer. Her gaze was skeptical, and I should have known she wouldn’t accept a quick dismissal.
“That wasn’t just a nightmare, Anton. You pinned me to the bed like you thought I was…I don’t know. An attacker? An enemy? What was that all about?” There was no mistaking the steel in her voice. She was already hardening herself against me—and rightly so.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over.” I looked away.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
Serena inhaled slowly, as if deciding her next words carefully. When she spoke, her voice was softer, but the resolve remained.
“I don’t know much about your past, Anton. In fact, I don’t know much about you . Yes, we’ve slept together, but when you think about relationships in general, we’re practically strangers.” She hesitated, then added, “How do I know this won’t happen again? Self-preservation matters, and if I’m expected to continue this arrangement, I deserve the truth about what happened tonight.”
I clenched my jaw. There were a thousand ways to deflect, to bury this before it could surface, but I felt pinned down in a way I couldn’t escape. It had nothing to do with the dream or the past—and everything to do with her.
Tonight, Serena had gotten a glimpse into my world in more ways than one—into the dark corners most people would run from. Instead of turning away, she’d met it head-on, even if she didn’t yet know it all. The way she responded to the club, from the power balance between us, to the way I wielded control over her body. What we had was deeper than anything I’d ever felt before.
And we were just getting started.
Our time together was supposed to be temporary. Hell, right before we fell asleep, I’d told myself it would be thirty days with her and nothing more. But as I watched her now, absorbing everything I’d told her with understanding instead of fear or pity, I knew I wanted something beyond our agreement.
Now, I had a choice. I could let my past dictate my future, pushing her away to keep my secrets buried. Or I could give her just enough—enough to satisfy her worry and curiosity, and enough to make her stay. I didn’t have to tell her everything. Not yet. All I knew was that I wasn’t ready to let her walk out the door, and if I didn’t give her something, that was exactly what she’d do.
I turned back to her. Her expression was patient, free of judgement, offering space for whatever answers I could give her.
For some reason, that made it harder to hold back.
I set the empty glass down, the clink of crystal against marble echoing through the room. Returning to the bed, I sat on the edge.
“I didn’t have a normal childhood. I grew up in hell,” I began, my voice quieter now. “It was the kind of hell that eats you alive if you’re not strong enough. It was survival of the richest and the fittest. My mother—” I let out a bitter breath. “She wasn’t just an addict like I told you. She was a prostitute. And the man who ran the whore house where we lived didn’t care much for rules. He took what he wanted and gave away what wasn’t his to give.”
Her eyes darkened, but she didn’t speak, letting me continue.
“I was on my own. Unless I wanted to live on the streets, I had nowhere to go. My mother looked out for me sometimes, but not always. Half the time, I don’t think she even remembered I existed. I learned the hard way how to survive in the kind of place I was living in. I got good at evading the johns who liked little boys and stayed under the radar.” I looked down, flexing my hands as if trying to shake off invisible chains. “But eventually, they came for me, too. I was young—and they were bigger.”
Serena inhaled sharply. I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t need to. It was better if I let her imagination draw its own conclusions. Speaking the details aloud wasn’t something I was going to do. I’d already divulged too much as it was.
“The nightmare tonight was a memory,” I continued, my voice hardening. “But that life is gone now. I don’t think about it, and what happened here tonight has never happened before. That’s why I’m not concerned about it happening again.”
“How did you escape?” Serena asked tentatively.
“I took control of my destiny. I remember hearing one of the johns talking about hitting it big with a tech stock. I didn’t know what he was talking about at the time, but I knew it meant money. And money was my key to getting out of hell. I already knew I was good with numbers and spotting trends.” I paused, thinking back to my very first investment. Jerry could be counted on to be careless after drinking too much, and I used it as an opportunity to slowly swipe enough cash to get me started. “I made a plan, stole some money, and lied to open a bank account. Before I was seventeen years old, I’d turned a few hundred into a few thousand just by making smart predictions. From there, I built a life where the past could never touch me again.”
I ended the story with a shrug and a tone of finality, hoping she would leave it there and not press for more details. I’d already given her more than I wanted to and wasn’t willing to expand further. Giving her anything else would be too risky.
Serena watched me carefully, her expression unreadable. I expected pity, maybe even fear, but there was none. Just understanding.
“You were lucky,” she finally said.
“Perhaps. I prefer to think I made my own luck. I have money and influence, and none of that came without effort. But sometimes, the past doesn’t give a damn about how much wealth or power you have. That was evident tonight. For future, it’s best if you don’t come up behind me unexpectedly, especially when I’m sleeping. While I don’t think it’s going to be an issue, I don’t want…I don’t want to risk hurting you again.”
Her eyes widened. “Is that why you reacted the way you did tonight? Because I curled up behind you?”
I inhaled deeply and exhaled through my nose. “It was a trigger.”
She studied me for a long moment, allowing a beat of silence to pass between us as the truth settled in.
“Thank you for telling me, Anton. For trusting me.”
I didn’t respond. In truth, I didn’t know how to.
So, I just waited for the horrors of the past to loosen its grip, grateful that Serena still wanted to stay in the same room with the man it had shaped.