Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“How long is my suspension?” I force out.
Marci smirks. “Six months. And it starts now. Feel free to vanish again and take the time to learn about boundaries.”
I don’t flinch. “If it’s just a client relations ban, there’s still plenty I can do.”
Now Marci’s cheeks get red. Oh, she’s good and mad. I don’t think she’s used to folks standing up to her mean-girl antics. She usually just bosses everyone around while they cower. I almost laugh in her face. Please. I grew up in the ass end of Donegal, and she thinks she can intimidate me? Girls back home fought with steel pipes.
She sees something in my face that makes her look away first. “Fine. Lucita’s out sick. You can scrub the toilets and mop the bathroom floors.” Then, voice sharp she continues, “But we have standards. If you can’t manage, tell me now, and I’ll call someone who actually knows how to work.”
I narrow my eyes but I don’t rear back and punch her in the face. I got fired from a few jobs that way. And this isn’t even a job. It’s volunteer work.
Theoretically, I want to be here.
And I do.
I’m… trying.
Yeah, part of me is doing this because Bane says these little tests are important. It’s not like he owns me. We’ve already discussed that I probably can’t do monogamy, and he didn’t seem to care. His only rule? No lying.
He calls it a choice. Whether or not I choose freedom.
The self-righteous prick.
I mean, yes, technically, I’m wearing the chastity belt by choice today.
But there are also incentives for playing by the rules, as Bane oh-so-clearly laid out before I left this morning. I can either choose not to be patient, or I can choose to get my brains fucked out tonight.
So, yeah. It’s chastity belt day. A softer one meant for movement.
But the truth is, it’s not just for him.
It’s not like I want to be the way I am. Life was better when I was showing up for it. When I, ya know, gave a shit about anything.
Having some place to go and helping women who’d just met the shit end of what life had to hand you… It used to feel like something to get out of bed for.
And once I started to get out of bed for it, I soon forgot about how that was why I’d started, and before I knew it, I was just… living. There were the normal ups and downs. And yeah, I was still the inappropriate one no matter where I went, but life felt okay for once. Like I wasn’t just floating through existence, one impulsive mistake at a time.
Maybe I can get back there.
I smile at Marci through clenched teeth but keep my head high and my shoulders back. “I’ve got it.”
Marci purses her lips and makes an ugly face like she hates to trust me with a key to the fucking mop closet, but she finally produces a heavy ring of keys and wrestles one off for me.
She holds it up in front of my face but yanks it back when I try to grab it. “I expect this back promptly at the end of your shift.”
Bitch. I give her an overly sugary smile. I expect you to suck my dick. “You got it, boss.”
I turn away before I get myself into more trouble, get the supplies from the closet, and head into the dorm bathrooms. The women are in life skills classes, I know from the time of day it is, so I’m alone in here.
I put my earbuds in, turn on my Pussy Riot playlist and get to work.
I’ve cleaned hotels before, so scrubbing toilets and attacking grime with industrial-grade cleaner isn’t exactly new territory. Bitch Marci doesn’t know it, but I actually like work that’s physical and repetitive. Gives me something to do with my hands that doesn’t get me into trouble and lets my mind wander.
Hmm. Maybe I should try getting a job again. Hotels are always hiring.
Domhnall would shit a brick. The thought makes me grin before it fades just as fast. Well. He would’ve, back in the day. Before he stopped looking at me like his baby sister.
And, ya know, there’s also the small problem that I’ve been fired from almost every job I’ve ever had. Taking too many breaks. Taking breaks that were too long. Fucking my boss. Fucking my boss’s boss. Fucking the delivery guy.
But I’m only fucking Bane now.
… Right?
I frown, scrubbing harder at some unidentifiable black gunk. I mean, I think I’m only fucking Bane now. We talked about how I probably can’t manage monogamy, and he said that wasn’t a deal breaker.
Is that part of today’s test? Not just to see if I can keep my hands out of my pants all day, but if I’ll keep my legs closed the second I’m out of Bane’s sight?