Chapter Sixteen
Somehow, I fall asleep after the insanity of the night. When I awaken, it’s to puffy eyes and a somber demeanor, though I feel lighter than I did last night. I’m still angry at Dorian—I don’t see that going away any time soon—but I no longer feel quite so weighed down by my anger.
Dorian’s already awake, sitting up on his side of the bed and squinting at something on his laptop.
When he hears the sheets rustling as I stretch, he glances over at me and smiles.
I pointedly avoid looking at him, instead opting to stare at the mattress.
“Morning.” In the corner of my eye, I see him notch his chin at the nightstand next to me.
“I brought you coffee. It’s probably cold now, I can go refill it if you want. ”
I sit up straight, cracking my neck from side to side and reaching for my phone, which is charging by a blue mug of coffee. Dorian must’ve plugged it in while I slept last night, since I don’t remember doing so.
“It’s nine,” he says calmly. “You had an… emotional night, so I thought I’d let you sleep. Besides, you have all your classes online on Fridays. You usually use the day to get ahead on homework so you can have free-ish weekends, right?”
“You’re not endearing yourself to me, you stalker,” I mutter, scrolling through my messages. My lips quirk at the ridiculous text chain Cara sent me last night.
Cara: Have fun getting your tits fucked off your body.
Cara: You vetted my guy wrong. He wouldn’t even give me oral.
Cara: Let me know if you’re not dead in the morning.
Cara: I’d be V sad if you die.
Cara: Unless cause of death is too many orgasms. That must be one helluva way to go.
There’s also a single text from Valerie.
Valerie: Let me know that you’re not dead when you get the chance. BTW: Got into a fun debate with Ronny-boy after you left. I now carry his balls in my purse. I’ll tell you about it next time we see each other.
Valerie’s version of fun often entails emasculating men, and I have no doubt Ronny walked out of the bar feeling like he was two inches tall.
“I need to get to work,” I tell Dorian, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee.
I don’t feel any more comfortable around Dorian than I did last night, and I’m eager to distance myself from him and try to find a way to leave him permanently.
I don’t want to have to take extreme measures, but if he leaves me with no other options, I’ll have to uproot my life.
I lived under the rule of a gang member once; I’m not going to let that be upgraded to living under the rule of a bratva member. A few weeks of this shit can be tolerated, maybe even a month or two, but an indefinite timeline? No.
“You can work here,” Dorian says. “Or in one of the living rooms.”
I shake my head. “No, I need to get away from this house. I’ll go to the campus library.”
“Will you?” Dorian questions mildly. He doesn’t challenge my statement outright, but his words are enough to get the message across. If I want to get to campus, I have to go through him. If I want to do anything, I’ll have to go through him.
I release a deep breath. My best bet right now is playing his game, lying low until I can figure out plausible next steps.
“Can I please go to campus to get my work done for the day?” I ask, trying to keep the tetchiness from my tone.
Dorian nods. “Of course. I’ll take you.” He pauses. “And stay with you. I also have a bit of homework, so a change of scene might be helpful.”
Naturally, I won’t be allowed to go alone. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
“Dorian.”
“Mm?”
“How long am I going to be kept in this house exactly? How long are you going to be chaperoning me?”
“Not chaperoning,” he says, giving a mock shudder. “You’re not a child or a debutante. I’ll be accompanying you until I’m sure you won’t pull the same shit you did last night, blatantly flirting with other men even though you know I want you.”
“Just because you want me doesn’t make you entitled to me,” I point out, trying to keep my tone calm. “I don’t need you to accompany me places.” His response is a mere shrug. Thinning my lips, I press forward. “How long am I going to be staying in this house? Concretely?”
“A while,” he responds mildly.
“How long is a while?” I press. “A few weeks? A few months? How long, Dorian? How long am I going to be a captive—”
“Guest,” he interjects.
“—Here? How long am I going to forfeit my freedom? Will it have to be until the end of the semester? Will it be longer?”
He sighs, growing irritated. “I don’t know, Mira. Until not only I, but my boss is convinced that you’re not a threat. You obviously have a past that’s given you a certain skillset. He wants to keep you close for the time being. He becomes dangerous when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
I inhale a deep breath. “It’s not… it’s not forever, right?”
Dorian doesn’t respond. The fuckwad does not say a single word, which makes my blood chill. He’s either not speaking because he doesn’t know the answer, or because the answer is yes.
“Dorian,” I say. “You’re… you’re going to let me go, right? Eventually?”
He shuts the screen of his laptop. “I’m hoping you won’t want to go after a while, Mira.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say, my tone becoming shrill. “You’re going to let me go eventually. You have to let me go eventually. I can’t stay here for the rest of college—”
“I’m done talking about this,” he announces, standing from the bed. “Get ready, shower, do whatever you want to do. I have some shit to get done.”
He walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving me a puddle of uncertainty on the bed.
We get to the library an hour later. The drive is taken entirely in silence. Dorian is quiet, seeming somewhat ruffled, and I have no desire to make any conversation with him. Instead, I start to think through my options.
I can’t stay at Greywood if it means being under Dorian’s rule permanently.
I won’t put myself through that. I had excellent grades in high school and have done very well in Greywood so far; there’s a slim chance that I might somehow be able to transfer to another school and retain a scholarship.
I make a decision that the sooner I get the transfer, the better; I need to start looking now.
While I’m in front of Dorian, in his line of vision, part of his life, I understand I’ll remain a complication and potential threat that needs to be kept close.
If I were gone, though… if I left, went to another school out of state, and kept my mouth closed about everything I’ve seen and done, maybe there’s a way he’d let me go.
I might not be worth the effort of a retrieval.
That, of course, leaves behind the problem of his boss, who’s been mentioned to me several times in passing.
I don’t know who the boss is, but I know enough to understand that he’s a very dangerous man.
I also know that the boss is the reason Connor didn’t kill me the night I first met him and is probably the reason I survived the night of the shootout.
Hopefully, that means he’s disinclined to kill an innocent girl.
If I leave in the right way, write a letter or contract that can convince whoever the boss is that I’ll keep what I know to myself, maybe I’ll be given reprieve. Maybe I’ll be able to get away, have a clean break.
I hate the very idea of leaving. I hate being driven out of the place that I’ve made my home, where I have friends and had safety for the first time in my life.
Now, my safety is being threatened by Dorian’s presence in my life.
I can’t risk staying here, with him, indefinitely.
The more I think about it, the more a school transfer—if I can pull it off—makes sense. I have to be able to pull it off.
We’re nearing the end of October right now.
I can try to talk to my guidance counselor and ask her to put out feelers for a transfer.
If I could, I’d draft her an email this very moment, but my phone is bugged and I don’t have a personal laptop.
I usually do my schoolwork on a laptop I share with Valerie.
The library has computers available for student use, though. I could sign into my school email on one of them and send a message to my guidance counselor. Or I could try to meet with her in person.
My head starts to prickle with an oncoming headache as Dorian parks in the parking lot of the library.
Despite his surly silence, he still opens my car door for me and keeps a hand at the small of my back as we enter the building.
After I check out a school laptop from the librarian, we set up in one of the private rooms at the back of the library, one that has walls lined with bookshelves holding dusty textbooks and a large wooden table.
As I pull my things out of my backpack and open the laptop, I worry my lip.
If I tell Dorian I’m meeting up with my guidance counselor, I’ll have a chance to negate his suspicions, but if he finds out in some other way, I’ll be in trouble.
“I’m going to try to see my guidance counselor,” I tell Dorian.
He slowly looks up from his laptop, arching an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
I try to muster a brave face. “I need to talk about doubling up my spring semester schedule. The sooner I graduate, the faster I can get to vet school, and the better chance I’ll have for a scholarship.
If I can double up on spring classes and take extra summer semester courses, I’ll graduate fall of next year.
Then I’ll dedicate the rest of the year to my work at the animal shelter while also applying to vet schools. ”
Dorian blinks a few times, and his eyes warm. “Overachiever much, Mira?”
I shrug. “I have to be. The more I do, the faster I get ahead, and the farther away I get from my past.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry you had a nightmare last night. Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No.”