Chapter 4 - Yara #3
"I will," I simply said, and before she could ask more questions, I ran toward the stairs and just before going down, I remembered that the suites were currently empty. We weren't the ones handling them, but at the beginning of every shift we got information about occupancy, just in case.
I looked toward the Concierge desk, but Cora wasn't there, and instead of going to the bathroom on the Level One, I passed the Theater Room and went straight for the Suites. We weren't allowed to use them, but today I didn't give a fuck what I should and shouldn't be doing.
I just wanted to get away for a bit. I didn't want to go home, considering that I still had a couple of hours left of my shift, but I also didn't want to go to the locker.
Somebody would most probably be there, and I didn't want to explain my raccoon face, as Cora put it, or the dried tears on my cheeks.
Rushing all the way to the end of the hallway where all the suites were located, I went for the last one on my right, knowing that it was the one least used. Even if someone decided to use it, they most probably won't be going for that suite.
The moment I opened the door I understood why all the members preferred to just chill and relax here.
Passing through the spacious living room I headed straight toward the bedroom, my eyes landing on the massive king size bed in the middle, with no doubt, the finest linen money could buy.
Mahogany nightstands stood on either side, with the lamp on the one on my right.
My eyes landed on the TV screen mounted to the wall just opposite the bed, and I wondered what it was like being able to afford something like this.
We weren't exactly poor, but we didn't have this kind of money.
Or at least, my mother always behaved like we didn't. I knew my father kept sending her the money even after their divorce, not that I ever saw any of it.
Most of my clothes were second-hand because my mother dearest refused to spend her "hard earned" money on me.
I used to have a weekly allowance for my own food and whatever else I wanted, but that allowance was barely enough to cover my food during the week, not to mention anything else. My mother might have frequented this type of place, but I haven't.
Luxury was not something I was familiar with, at least not in the way a lot of people from this town were.
I darted to the left, entering the bathroom that was bigger than my old bedroom, and went straight to the sink.
Cora was right—I did look like a raccoon. My makeup was smeared all over my face, but mostly around my eyes, the black of my mascara managing to create the circles all around. There were a few streaks on my cheeks, and I fucking hated that those people saw me like this.
My usually composed appearance, my black clothes, the T-Shirts with logos of different bands, were an armor against the world around me.
My smile was my biggest fuck you to those who deemed me unworthy of their time, of their love, but today I didn't have my armor.
Today I wore a plain white polo shirt with the logo of Clear View Country Club and black slacks, making me feel completely naked.
Today I wasn't myself, and maybe if they ambushed me at any other place, I would've reacted differently.
I would've fought back, but not here. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that there was no use in fighting against them, especially not given who their families were.
Even William, Xavier's father, who was nothing but kind to me, wouldn't understand.
I knew how these people operated. I was an outsider, someone not even worthy of being near them, and if I tried saying anything they would bury me alive.
So instead of wallowing in my self-pity, I released my hair from the high ponytail it was in, letting it fall around my shoulders.
I needed to re-tie it anyway. My fingers wrapped around the lid where the cotton pads were stocked right next to the sink, and let the water flow, dabbing them with just enough to make them wet.
The first cotton pad dragged over my cheek, erasing the trace of my tears, of my anguish. Without makeup remover it was almost impossible to remove it all in one go, so four cotton pads later I resembled more the girl from this morning and not the raccoon that appeared later on.
My eyes were still red, my forehead streaked with red marks from my crying, but there was nothing I could do to hide them. The red marks would disappear in due time by themselves, and I just had to give myself enough time to get them gone.
I bent down, going through my hair with my fingers and then tied it back again as I straightened up, looking at myself in the mirror. I didn't like this version of me.
I didn't like the weakness shining in my pale eyes, but it would pass. It had to fucking pass.
I refused to be anyone's punching bag, least of all to a man who obviously had way too much free time and way too many unresolved issues.
A week ago, I was ready to forgive and forget what he did before, hoping to get to meet him in the middle, to maybe even have some sort of truce, but all those thoughts were gone now.
Xavier wasn't and would never be my friend, least of all someone who could truly see me.
People often thought I was the same as my mother, completely refusing to get to know me.
He was just like everyone else—a spoiled, rich boy, who wanted to piss off his father just so that the daddy dearest would pay a little bit more attention to him.
Fuck him and his plans, because from today onwards I wasn't going to play by his rules.
All this time, ever since he came back, I followed his rules. For the most part I did what he wanted, staying away from his friends, joining his messed up parties even when I didn't want to, and for what? For him to feel me up in front of everyone like that as if he had any right to do so?
No, from today we would play based on my rules and if he thought he would win the game against a very pissed off woman, then he was sorely mistaken.
Gripping the sink with both hands, I looked myself dead in the eye.
"You will survive this. You survived worse, and one fuckboy is not going to destroy your future or your plans. "
I would rather die than ever again think that he could be better.
Calmer, and less red, I tightened my ponytail and headed toward the door, opening it slowly. I stepped into the bedroom when my eyes landed on him, the motherfucker I wanted to strangle.
Xavier sat on the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists resting on his lap, with his head hanging low.
His shoulders were filled with tension, and I could only wonder what happened between Ryder and him after I left.
I just hoped that after today Ryder wouldn't become one more pawn Xavier could control, because it was nice knowing that not everyone in his friend group was an asshole.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, uncaring at this moment that I was in the suite that was solely reserved for members. If he wanted me to get fired, then fucking go for it.
I was too tired, too fucking emotional to deal with him and his bullshit right now.
His head lifted up slowly, his eyes bloodshot when they landed on me, and whatever it was that had him pissed off today had his mouth pulled into a tight line.
Back in the lounge he sounded so sure, so fucking full of himself, but now.
.. Now he looked shattered, somewhere between pissed off and completely destroyed.
Yet, he didn't move. He didn't say anything, instead just continuing staring at me like a fucking psycho that he was.
"Well, then," I huffed, "it was nice chatting with you as per usual." I turned toward the door separating the bedroom from the living room, ready to leave this place and get back to work, when he rushed toward me, pressing me against the wall, breathing like a fucking bull, ready to attack.
His hand wrapped around my throat, pinning me, cutting off my air supply, and I was powerless to do anything but to look up at him.
He looked pissed now—more pissed than earlier. In front of his friends he seemed like the perfectly posed trust fund brat, mocking me and humiliating me, but now—he was bursting at the seams.
My hands landed on his shoulders, pushing him, trying to free myself. "Let. Go. Of. Me!" I was done with this kind of behavior. Done with rolling on my back and showing him my belly.
But my pushing did nothing, and if anything, it only seemed to enrage him more, making him tighten his hand on my throat further.
"I-I can't br-eathe," I choked out, hoping he would fucking listen to me for once before he killed me.
"Good," he spat out. "Now you know what it feels like. Now you know what it's like feeling as if you would never be able to breathe in fully." What the fuck was he on about? "It isn't a nice feeling, is it, little lamb? You want to fight me, you want to punish me for taking away your air."
His head dropped down, his lips inches from mine. "Now you fucking know how I feel." What. The. Fuck?
Those dark eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against mine, his breaths washing over my face.
His other hand dragged over my right arm, all the way to my collarbone, skimming down between my breasts and landing over my heart.
And that traitorous little organ slammed against my ribcage and against his hand, betraying my feelings.
Worst of all—it wasn't slamming because I was scared of him. There was nothing Xavier could do to me that would have me terrified, but our proximity, the way he kept pressing against me, had my heart hammering for different reasons.
Reasons I wasn't ready to think about now.