12. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Tatum

When we reach the top floor, Devon storms off the elevator like her ass is on fire.

“If you try to leave—”

“I’m not going to leave, Tate. I need the damn money!” she screams, stomping her foot on the floor.

I was only going to tell her that if she tries to leave, the elevator won’t work without the key card. But her comment has me changing gears.

“What do you need money for?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” she seethes.

I’m not sure what to say about that, so I don’t say anything. It’s best I not do anything to annoy her further, which is going to be difficult. I’ve done everything in my power to get under her skin for the last five years. Breaking that habit will not happen overnight. And that’s somehow what I have to do. I can’t waste time because it’s limited. Yes, I will see her when we leave, but this setting makes it easier to handle her. There are too many outside factors when we leave. Too many distractions. The real world is messy. At least here it’s just us. I must use every second I have to my benefit. There’s no time for fuck-ups.

“I’ll show you to your room,” I say instead, walking past her and toward the floating staircase that’s on the other side of the kitchen.

“It better be far away from yours,” she says as she follows me.

“Considering all the bedrooms are up here, it won’t be. But there is a lock on your door.”

“Oh goody. A lock on a door in your house. I’m sure you don’t have a key.”

Her sarcasm has me smiling, but I don’t let her see it.

“I have no need to go into your room, Devon.” I stop in front of the room that she will stay in.

“No?” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “Then why buy me at all?”

“That’s a conversation for another time,” I say simply.

She narrows her eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

I open the door and gesture for her to go inside with a jerk of my head.

“It’s late, Devon. Go to sleep. My room is just—”

“Don’t care!” She hurries into the room and slams the door. The lock clicks loudly.

This is going to be a challenge.

I walk down the hall to my room, loosening my tie as I go. I roll it up and put it in the drawer with the others, then change out of my suit and put on pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

I don’t stay here often, but there are enough of my belongings here for when I do. Not that they mean anything. All my favorites are at the Kensington house. Before getting into the limo with Devon, I’d called the cleaning service to send someone here immediately to stock the fridge and pantry and do a once over to make sure it was clean. I’ve never had an issue with them before, so I don’t feel the need to do an inspection.

Though it’s just about 2:30 in the morning, I’m not tired.

I grab my phone from the dresser and as I head downstairs to the sitting area, I call Dane.

“Hey, dickhead,” he answers on the fourth ring.

“I’m the dickhead? You’re the one who bailed.”

“Yeah, and for good reason. One of our models tried breaking into the warehouse.”

“Why?” I ask.

“She was high and needed money.”

“She needed money, so she broke into a warehouse that holds clothes?”

“Listen, I didn’t say it made sense. I’m only telling you what happened.”

I scrub a hand down my face and drop onto the couch, grabbing the remote from the drawer and turning on the television that’s hanging on the wall ahead of me. It’s nothing compared to the giant screen in the theater room, but it’s good enough. I only need it for background noise.

“So, how was it?” he asks. “Did you get two hotties?”

“Sure did,” I say, knowing there is no way I can tell him about Devon. He’d kill her before I got a chance to do anything about it. Then he’d kill me, not only for buying her, but for not telling him.

“Then why are you on the phone with me? Tire them out already? They lightweights? ”

Shit, hadn’t thought of that.

“They’re showering,” I answer quickly. “Getting ready. Needed to make sure you were alive.”

Dane laughs. “Well, have a good night, Tatum. Enjoy all that pussy and give them a little lick for me.”

“You’re an idiot, Dane.” I end the call and drop my phone to the couch.

I love him, he’s probably the only person on the planet I’ll admit that about, but he can be so goddamn annoying at times.

I scroll through my options on the TV and can’t find a thing that looks interesting. TV sucks this time of night, and even during peak times I hardly find anything worth watching. It doesn’t keep my attention the way it did when I was a kid. Maybe spending so much time watching cartoons when I was younger fucked up my attention span. But that’s what happens when you have a father who is more interested in pussy than his kid.

I put on sports highlights, hoping the drawl of the announcers will put me to sleep, and pick up my phone to go through emails. I told myself I wouldn’t work this weekend, but going through emails isn’t really working, is it? It’s not like I have anything else to do. My weekend plans fell through, and now here I am, stuck in a penthouse with the girl I hate. I was supposed to be getting laid and having orgies all weekend. And instead, I doubt I’ll even get a hard-on worth taking care of with her around.

Why the hell did I do this? What am I even doing?

That little voice in my head keeps asking the same questions. Has been since we got into the limo. Everything set in when we were stuck together in such a small space. But my answer hasn’t changed.

I’m getting revenge because it’s the only way I’ll ever get past this shit with Devon. Harboring hate for her is stupid, which is why I can’t keep doing it forever.

I need to get over what she did to me, and the only way I’ll do that is by making her hurt as badly as I did. She needs to understand my pain. Only then will I feel satisfied. Only then will I finally be able to move on.