Chapter 4
Sasha
I’m packing my things. I’m doing as best I can with tears blurring my vision, streaming down my face. I’m throwing my clothes into a duffle bag. I leave the dresser drawers hanging open.
Let him clean it up.
Then I see it.
The thing that he said was waiting for me in the bedroom.
On the top of the dresser sits a wide strap of brown leather. The word Sasha is engraved on it in swirling letters.
I sneer at it, disgusted, backing away from it.
I go to my dressing table, throw all my lotions and potions in another bag. Try to ignore its presence. But I can’t help myself. I sneak a little peek at the strap.
My tummy clenches. My little cunny, so wet from my earlier spanking—then the angry farewell fucking—is now positively soaking.
I need panties.
I want to take a shower. Scrub every bit of him away from me. But I have to get the hell out of here. I clean up best I can with a damp washcloth, leaving that on the floor, too. I slip into my thong and my usual workout gear.
The offending dress lies on the floor.
Taunting me.
What do I do with the stupid thing? I’d said I’d throw it away.
That was before he told me I wasn’t good enough to be a Bachman. That Bronson didn’t want me to be a member of their precious family.
I imagine taking the dress, throwing it in the middle of his backyard, and setting it on fire.
As satisfying as that would be, the very idea strikes fear in my heart—you don’t start fires in Bachman Village and get away with it.
Despite my fury, I find myself picking it up and throwing it into the small bathroom trash can.
Where I know he will see it.
As I drop it into the basket, my ring catches my eye.
Such a gorgeous jewel.
But he’d bought it from Bronson. And we are over. Two reasons to leave it.
I take it off. I walk over to the dresser. I place the ring down on top of the strap. Right into the first letter a in Sasha.
It’s done.
Glancing around the room, I grab my bags.
Everything here is his. The furniture. The paintings. The sculptures. All the decorating I did, I did with his money. He willingly shelled out every penny I requested. Generous with his wealth, I never wanted for anything.
He told me it made him happy to have my feminine touches around the place.
That it made him happy to see me happy.
That he wanted me to feel at home here.
And I did. Every minute.
Except for now.
I press the brimming tears from my eyes.
I jog down the two flights of stairs. I pause in the foyer.
I press my forehead against the back of the closed front door, saying a silent ‘goodbye’ to the beautiful rowhome that was my—our house for the past year.
I open the door and step out onto the stoop, shutting it quietly behind me.
The night air is cool, almost cold. My bags hang from my shoulders. I wrap my arms around myself.
I have nowhere to go.
In a daze, I make my way down the front stairs. I stand on the street, utterly bewildered.
A fresh set of tears begin streaming from my eyes.
All my girlfriends are Bachman. They live in the Village. My parents live in Greece, where I was born and resided until I went to college in New York. I met Carter at his gym, and the rest was history.
And now, my life is history.
I have to start from scratch. Or go back to my parents.
I can’t face the idea of leaving the city I’ve grown to love.
I can’t even process the fact that I’ve lost the Village.
The biggest loss of all. I’ve lost him.
What have I done?
A sob escapes from my throat. My hand goes to my mouth, covering it. I take one deep breath.
I have nothing but the bags on my arms.
Before I can truly break down, I set my jaw and head off to Barbells. I’ll sleep there. I’ll teach my class at five a.m. I’ll take a hot shower, then I’ll figure out this mess.
Wait—I still work for him. He’s my boss.
How am I going to make it through the day, an hour—hell, even a couple of minutes—in his presence?
I walk down the street, tears falling, nose running, heart aching.
I’m going to have to find a job, a place to live.
My thumb hits the keypad. I go through the first gate.
He was my best friend.
My thumb presses the second keypad. I’m on the streets of the city.
He was my everything.
I press my thumb on the side entry pad of Barbells.
I thought we were soulmates. Destined by the stars to be together. Forever.
What. Have. I. Done.
Exhausted, drained, I pass through the door of the gym. The lock clicks behind me. I find a mat in the corner of the room. I dump my bags on the floor. I curl up on top of the mat, shoving the duffle bag underneath my head for a pillow.
I cry myself to sleep.