Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“You’ve been back three weeks,” she whispered. “Do you think maybe you’re being a little harsh?”
Yes. Yes, I’m being harsh. I’m being harsh and ridiculous and lashing out at the wrong fucking man. “It’s the way I feel,” I said. “I’m not apologising for that. Not ever again.”
“I don’t think you should apologise for it, I just think…” she lowered her eyes. “Sorry, this is none of my business.”
“You rode the man’s cock last night while he was cuffed to a gurney with his mouth clamped open, and I was the one who coerced you. Strongly. The boundaries of polite conversation have been safely breached, Topaz. My fucked-up relationship with Andy Morgan is very definitely your business.”
“This isn’t about Mr Morgan, though, is it? Not really.”
“It’s totally about Andy.” I let out a melodramatic sigh. “And maybe just a little about Vincent, too.”
She looked so kind, so sad for me. “It must have been hard to walk away from something like that, I mean, I read those books.”
“I didn’t walk, I ran. Fast. Before I could change my mind.”
“And are you changing your mind?” Doe eyes were so enticing, sucking me in to spill all my secrets, but I didn’t care anymore. I was fat out of friends, and fat out of sounding boards.
“I don’t want to change my mind.” My voice had shrivelled to a pathetic rasp. “I don’t want to want him. I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to believe all his shitty little promises.”
“But you think you will anyway?” Her eyebrows shot up. “He’s coming for you, isn’t he?”
I nodded. “He was always coming. I just figured I’d be ready for it.”
“But you’re not?”
I shook my head. “It was naive, thinking running back here would give me something to hold onto. Somewhere to hide. Like that would ever be enough to protect me from someone like Vincent.”
“But it could be, no? If Mr Morgan meant something? If he was worth holding onto?”
“He means something,” I said. “Just not enough.” I folded my arms across my chest, bracing against some imaginary chill. “Vincent knows me. He’s seen me at my weakest, he’s seen me broken, and delirious, but he’s also seen me scale the heights of sexual experience. He educated me, trained me, used me. He loved me, too, in his own twisted way, and I loved him. I loved him so much I didn’t know how to breathe without him. That’s what a relationship like that does to you, you lose yourself in it, and you don’t even care, not until you realise it’s all been a nasty fucking illusion. I’d love to sink back into our Italian fantasy, it would be so easy, so beautifully easy, if only it was real. But it’s over. It has to be over. I’m just not sure I’ll be strong enough, not when it comes to it. Not when this… thing, this crazy, messy, stupid thing with Andy Morgan is frying the tiny bit of rational thinking I’ve got left in my skull.”
“I know Mr Morgan is no Master Blake, he’s mean but he’s not twisted, he’s a bull not a poet. But maybe he could be what you need? The thing you hold onto? That’s what you wanted, right? When you came back here?”
I smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought I didn’t want. I just wanted my club back, I wanted to hole up tight with my hands full, and my brain busy, in a place where I had control, and value, and purpose. Where I was strong, and didn’t need an asshole like Vincent Blackmore in my life. Andy was supposed to be a kinky little rebound to take the edge off, nothing else. A value-added bonus.” I met her eyes full on. “Believe it or not, Topaz, I wasn’t exactly drowning in options. This was my life, and then I left it, it was the only real place to run back to. I was supposed to be on top of the world by now, without a shit to give for Vince, or what he’s doing.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “Mr Morgan likes you and he’s trying and it’s been three weeks.”
I dug out the handset from my pocket, then opened Vincent’s messages and tossed it over.
I watched her eyes widen as she scrolled through. The ones that morning had been something else, pictures of him all the way across London as he made his way in our direction. And his words, begging, pleading, threatening. Promising everything I’d ever wanted. Our big, grand happily ever after.
And then the final message, the one which had stopped me in my tracks and set off this whole sorry mental spiral in the first place.
You’ve broken me, pretty bird. I’m yours. It’s my turn to kneel at your feet, my beautiful Magpie. I’m going to take you back where you belong, and we shall become as one. Together. You own me. You own my very soul.