Chapter 9

nine

Olympia

Tav’s been gone for most of the week. Since the ball, things have been pretty tense between us. We haven’t kissed, we haven’t even touched. Not since that night.

I think maybe that’s why things are tense. He hated it.

He did it, kissed me for the show. For the cameras.

I got lost in it, and he hated it.

When I think about that, even now, it burns. I hate that it burns, because even as it burns, even as the sting of that knowledge sears inside me, I can’t help that when I think about that kiss—when I pull up the pictures of us online and see myself cradled in his arms, his big body towering over mine, his mouth devouring mine—even though I know he hated it, I can’t help the feeling of pleasure that swells inside me. The want. The need.

Those feelings chase the sting of hurt, before I remind myself that he hated every moment of it, and the sting returns. It’s a cycle. A vicious, painful, degrading cycle.

It’s probably a good thing that Tav has been working most of the week. If he’d been home, I’d have been tempted to ask him to kiss me again. And this time, not for cameras.

That wouldn’t go over well.

I might not be experienced, but I know enough to know that much.

It’s also a good thing I’m used to being home alone. It’s a good thing I’m accustomed to being housebound, as I was while living under Remira’s rule.

Being that I don’t have a car, and Tav doesn’t exactly live within walking distance to anything—not that I have money to burn—I can’t really go anywhere. It’s not a big deal, though, because I am used to this. I’m used to being on my own.

Surprisingly, Tav doesn’t have staff. He can afford it, but he doesn’t have it. There is a sweet lady who pops in to clean and do his laundry on Tuesdays and Fridays. She’d been here this morning while I did my yoga in the backyard under the bright sun. I’ve never done yoga before, but anyone can learn anything online, and I’ve learned that I quite like it. It feels good to start my morning like this, outside, in the sun. It feels good to stretch and breathe. It’s peaceful, and after the years I’ve had and the hurt I’ve endured—and now this with Tav—well, I need peace. Peace is important.

Besides, it’s my mission to be happy and healthy.

Yoga is a positive direction on that mission.

I’ve also taken to spending time in his pool. A lot of time in his pool. With Tav never being home, I don’t have to worry about him catching me in my bikini. I think if he did, he’d probably glare at me. He tends to glare at me no matter what I wear. So, I’ve told myself I don’t care. He doesn’t have to like my clothes. He doesn’t even have to like me. He just has to pretend that he likes me for the next fourteen months. After that, I’ll give him the will. I’ll have my freedom, my inheritance, the ability to care for myself, and I’ll leave him to his life.

Simple. Clean. There’s no happily-ever-after for me here. The fact I ever hoped there could be makes me feel foolish and childish.

I’m a woman now. I can accept that the man I’ve crushed on my whole life feels nothing for me. But I hate, even as I tell myself I can accept that reality, that I still feel that sting.

I suspect, no matter what kind of time passes, and how much he tells me he loathes me, there’s always going to be a piece of me that loves him.

I’ve accepted that, too.

Closing my Kindle, I disconnect my brain from the insanely addictive, and surprisingly delicious monster romance that Nevaeh recommended to me while we chit-chatted about our favorite books at the ball. Both Wrenlee and Nevaeh work with books, Wrenlee editing and Nevaeh designing covers for indie authors, so they both have more than a few must-read-recommendations. Nevaeh, however, is the one with a rather intense taste in books. I’d been hesitant at first, but she’d assured me I’d be hooked. She hadn’t been wrong.

Who would have thought I could get turned on by a monster with tentacles on his—ahem—I can’t even say it. It’s bizarre. Bananas, really. A thing with tentacles…

An audible giggle escapes as I tip my head back to the sun, letting my eyes drift closed. It’s the same leisurely life I’d had back at home, but it feels so different here. I’d never had peace there. Not like this.

I’d never felt safe. Relaxed. Like my limbs could melt in the sun without fear of being beat while my guard was down. For a mistake I didn’t realize I’d made.

I can relax here, and just slip away. Letting all thoughts disintegrate around me. At home, I’d always been on edge. On guard. Ready for whatever punishment Remira felt I deserved. The punishments came often, so I was always prepared. If I let myself slip, let my mental shields down and she came at me, it was so much harder. Those were the times I’d cry, when she caught me unprepared for a punishment.

I’d learned to stay prepared.

It’s nice not to have to be now, though I catch myself tensing every now and again as though my body hasn’t quite accepted that I’m safe here. That’s the main reason I started practicing yoga. I need to relax. To unwind. To try and heal the damage Remira has done not only to my body, but to my psyche.

She can’t do any more damage. She’ll never touch me again.

I can’t help but smile now, knowing how infuriated she must be. I’ve run away. I’ve ignored her command, shattered her control, and betrayed her rule. I’ve stolen her pawn and ensured that she won’t be provided for. At least not by Darius, not anymore.

Because even though she has sent scathing voicemail after a scathing voicemail, I won’t return. I won’t let her hurt me anymore.

As for Darius, I’d blocked him. I’d blocked them all, Ophelia included. When Dad finally called me—I’d almost picked up when I’d seen his name flash on my screen—but in the end, I held strong. It’s been years since William has done more than look at me with glassy-from-drink eyes. He let Remira punish me over and over, without uttering a single word of protest in my defense, full well knowing I didn’t deserve to pay for Ophelia’s crime. Still, seeing his name on my screen was proof of just how desperate Remira was for me to return.

It doesn’t say the best things about me, I realize, but I love that she’s the desperate one now. I want her to stew in it.

What I hadn’t expected, however, was that Darius would threaten to come and bring me back himself. Darius has no problem spending his time with other women, strippers and escorts and everything else, but he’s been possessive over me since the deal was made. I can’t say how many times he’s warned me away from men, threatening me with pain whenever he caught a man even looking at me, as though I could control where another man let his eyes drift. It’d gotten so bad that I’d started avoiding looking at men altogether. If I wasn’t looking at them, maybe they wouldn’t look at me. They had anyway, and Darius had taken pleasure in whispering his threats into my ear like a caress of what was to come—what was to become of my life with him.

He’d told me he wanted me pure and untouched. He’d refused to even sample my mouth with his own, he’d claimed, because my sweet fear would be more potent when he finally took me, made me his, if he waited. If he let that fear ferment.

That fear had fermented until it had boiled over and I’d run—right into the arms of his brother. Okay, maybe I wasn’t in Tav’s arms, per se. But Darius didn’t know that.

I’d thought for certain that once he saw me with his brother, of all people, his want for me would be spoiled.

By the texts and voicemails, I’d received from Darius, sadly, that’s not the case.

It’s no matter, I’m choosing to ignore them all.

They have no part in my life anymore, and I don’t need their negativity weighing me down.

I’m starting my new life here in L.A. I might be doing it alongside Tav, but I’m really doing it alone. For myself. It’s the first time I’ve done anything for myself in my whole life. It feels delicious. There’s really no other word for it. It is delicious, decadent, sweet—everything.

Pushing up from my chair by the pool, I move back inside through the large patio door. It’s a hot, beautiful day, so I dress in a simple sundress. It’s a pretty cream color with mock lace at the hem.

I’m not lucky enough to go with no bra. I’m busty, with full double D’s. I’ve always been uncomfortable with my chest, but it is what it is. I’m curvy. I have thighs, much to Remira’s chagrin. I wasn’t built willowy like her and Ophelia. I got my stocky, curvy build from my grandmother. I’ve got thick thighs, junk in the trunk, and too much boobs.

Trying to lose weight is impossible. I never lose it from the problem areas, and my stomach is snatched. I can’t afford to lose much else there, as I already have a tiny waist.

Sometimes I feel disproportionate. Other times, I just remind myself that Grandma had this body, and she rocked it.

After making myself a grilled chicken salad and eating it, I’m craving something sweet. Tav doesn’t seem to eat a lot of sweets, which sucks, because I’m a sucker for some sugar. It’s as I’m on the hunt for chocolate chips—I doubt he has them, I doubt the man bakes—still as I’m on the hunt for them, I find an unopened container of popcorn kernels. My heart flutters because I know for a fact that container hadn’t been there before.

Tav must have gone to the store to get me popcorn because I’d asked for it the other night. My silly heart warms. In fact, there’s not even a smidgen of sting. The fire has devoured it all.

Like a giddy child, I pull the popcorn from the shelf and hug it to my chest. With a tiny squeal and a dance of delight, I decide I’m having a movie night tonight.