Chapter Eleven

Lyrical

I wake up to drool sliding down my chin as the sun peeks between the blinds, shining light on my face. I sit up, then rub my eyes and my head feels like I've been hit by a sledgehammer. Tossing the blanket off me, I force myself out of bed and walk sluggishly to the bathroom. I grab a bottle of aspirin, unscrew the lid, and toss back two pills, chasing it down with a glass of water.

Last night after my engagement party, I went barhopping with Winter and Lilac and consumed so much alcohol, to the point I blacked out.

The only thing I remember is Snow fucking me in the storage room, wanting me to admit that I belong to him. I glance at my engagement ring now sitting on the side of the sink, and I can't believe I'm going to be stuck with him for the rest of my life as his sex toy. He wants me addicted to his dick and crave him, but I refuse to be treated like shit. I refuse to allow him to use my dark sex fantasies against me.

I rush back to my bedroom and grab my phone from the nightstand to look at the time. It's eleven in the morning and I've missed my first class. I have time to make it to my second class, which is art.

I return to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and put my hair up in a messy bun, then I throw on a light sweater and a pair of leggings and I toss my book bag over my shoulders.

I head to the living room and find Lilac and Winter passed out on the couch.

As I make my way to the spacious kitchen, the doorbell rings.

Who would be here so late this morning? I wasn't expecting any guests, and I doubt Lilac is either.

I open the door, and a guy with brown hair and matching eyes, wearing an all-white uniform with a clipboard tucked under his armpit, stares down at me.

The aspirin finally kicks in and my head doesn't pound as much.

"Can I help you?"

"Lyrical Haynes."

"Yes?"

"Your fiancé sent me here. He wants my company to start packing your stuff and he's moving your furniture to storage."

"Excuse you?"

The guy looks just as confused as I do. "You didn't know?"

"You're not moving shit."

"It says, right here, that we have to move your stuff into storage."

A few men with boxes in their hands push me out of the way and head straight to my room, and I follow them as they gather random stuff, tossing it all in boxes.

Hell no, I'm putting my foot down with Snow. He thinks after our engagement he's going to control every aspect of my life? It's the only reason why he wants me to move in with him.

Fuck that.

I need time away from him to think. He can control me in the bedroom, but he can't control me outside of it.

"Hey, don't touch my shit," I snap.

The guy I spoke to stands in the archway of the door. "We're here to do our jobs."

I grit my teeth, snatching a box from one of the workers. "I said, don't touch my shit. I don't care what Snow told you. We agreed to live together after the wedding."

"Ma'am. Please let us do our job," the same guy says.

I grab a shoe and toss it at the guy, and he ducks his head. I rush to my closet, continue to throw shoes at the workers, screaming at the top of my lungs for them to get the fuck out.

Snow has crossed the line and I'm not going to take his fucking bullying. I'm not moving in with him, and I meant it when I told him that.

"Fuck that, I didn't sign up for this. Let's get the hell out of here," one of the workers says.

They leave my apartment, and a smile of victory spreads across my face. I feel proud to finally stand up to my future husband. Now, he will know he can't control me.