Sitting up, I hold the comforter to my chest and scoot back. “What the hell are you doing here?”
One of his hands comes to his chest, feigning offense. “Are you not happy to see me, bug?”
The nickname makes my stomach cramp. I grit my teeth and cross my arms, scowling as he continues to advance on me. When he reaches the edge of the bed, he braces one knee on the mattress and unbuttons his gray suit jacket.
My toes curl, and not in a good way.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, “and don’t come any closer. I told you I didn’t want to see you.”
Preston sighs. He always sighs, like I’m an inconvenience to him even though he’s the one who invited himself in.
“Come on, bug, it’s been months. Guantanamo Bay deals in less excruciating torture.”
“I don’t care how long it’s been. That’s the entire point. We broke up, we aren’t supposed to see each other.”
My lungs constrict, squeezing until pain flares, making it difficult to breathe. Being this close to him dredges up everything I’m otherwise able to pretend I don’t remember.
Hands on my body, roving and stroking. Too many to keep track of, although I’m sure it’s more than I agreed to.
Damp breath scraping across the back of my neck and the insides of my thighs.
Pain. Excruciating, mind-bending pain. They swear I won’t feel anything, or that I won’t remember, but I want to know which one it is. I’d prefer the comfort of both, but even that feels like grasping at straws.
In the end, neither was true.
I felt everything, and the memories remain.
Preston’s hand finds the footboard of the bed, fingers curling around the cushioned edge as his features darken. His mouth mashes into a thin, firm line, and he glares at me.
“We aren’t broken up, Lenny. I didn’t agree to that.”
“Yeah, because it wasn’t up for discussion.” Slipping one leg off the bed, I let myself balance in limbo between fight or flight. Prepared for either but trying to wait for him to make the first move.
His eyebrows draw in. One finger taps against the bed.
“How many times do I have to apologize?”
The comforter comes with me when my other foot finds the carpeted floor. I clutch it to my chest, keeping the barrier between us. In the five years I’ve known him, Preston Covington has always maintained an air of unpredictability about him.
It’s not uncommon for him to be fine one second and utterly unhinged the next, nor is it uncommon for him to take the switch out on the people around him.
For three years, I withstood the constant changes silently. Daddy loves him, and for a time I thought I loved them both, which meant putting up with a lot of shit.
Until that night, when my endurance finally ran out. Favors turned to manipulation.
Evil.
Wrapping one arm around my waist, I press my fingers into the soft tissue of my abdomen, just below my belly button. Trying to soothe the pang of despair Preston’s existence causes.
“There isn’t an apology in this world big enough to cover what you…” My voice catches, pitching high and tight, and I clear my throat. “You can’t say sorry and erase what happened.”
“I’m not trying to erase it, baby.”
Fire surges into my throat, singeing my tongue and stealing the words from my lips.
He steps around the bed, eyes softening as he extends his arms. “I’m just sorry. I’m tired of being without you.”
My stomach flips, and my eyes burn. “Stop.”
His frown deepens. “No, Lenny. I won’t. You think I’m gonna stand here and watch while your father pairs you off with someone else? You’re supposed to be with me.”
“How do you know that’s what he’s trying to do?”
Preston scoffs, still moving toward me. I back up, hitting the wall and wishing I could disappear into it.
“The guys downstairs won’t shut the fuck up about it. Everyone wants to tame Lenny Primrose, make her their bitch and get Tom’s company in the process. It’s all about status and money for them, and your father’s eating it up, letting them vie for a shot at your hand.”
He stops just in front of me, and I smell it when the toes of his shoes touch my bare feet: alcohol. Preston’s greatest vice.
I grit my teeth as his vodka-laced breath assaults my face, trying not to grimace.
Reaching up, he curls a loose strand of my hair around his middle finger. “They can’t love you like I do, Lenny bug.”
“Get out.” I flinch when he tugs, hating myself for showing weakness.
A small snort comes from his nose. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
My hands come up, dropping the blanket and shoving at his chest. I’m not sure if I catch him off guard, or if he’s more loaded than I realized, but whatever the case, he stumbles with the push, and I glide past him.
Darting to the other side of the room, I grab the doorknob in my hand and yank it open, standing to the side so he has enough room to leave unimpeded.
For a moment, he just stays there. Staring. Disbelieving, if his wide eyes are any indication.
“You want to date one of those fuckers downstairs, don’t you?” He scoffs, moving to where I’m standing without getting too close. “Still nothing but a dirty fucking slut, I see. Guess you don’t need me to help with that anymore.”
A chasm breaks open in my chest, sucking in all my internal organs and crushing them into dust when it closes. I pinch my eyes shut, steeling myself against the way his words hurt.
Refusing to give him any more of my time, or tears.
“Leave.” Straightening my spine, I peel back my eyelids and raise a brow. “Now.”
The vein in the center of his forehead bulges, seeming to throb with every passing second. I know the heir to a pipeline fortune isn’t used to not getting what he wants, but I’m no longer in a position where I care.
An image of blood and death crosses my mind, giving me pause as he steps out into the hall. Classical music drifts up the split staircase, indicating the party still rages below, and I can’t help but wonder if Jonas has disposed of the body by now.
What I wouldn’t give to kill him all over again.
To kill every single fucker who laid a hand on me months ago. Made one night into something twisted and changed my life for good.
The urge to start with Preston is almost overwhelming.
My hand clamps down around the doorknob until it aches.
Sighing, Preston shakes his head and exits, pausing at the threshold. “Your father will give you back to me if I ask. I didn’t think it’d have to come to this, but I’m not letting you go, Lenny. You belong with me.”
I don’t say anything, and after a moment, he rolls his eyes and finally leaves. Slamming the door behind him, I turn the lock and suck in a deep breath, willing the tears away. The memories flood my brain, playing on repeat until it feels like I’m suffocating.
Clutching at my chest, I tear my pajamas off, trying to get air. To cool down before I combust as fear and misery culminate in my soul, tearing it apart limb from limb.
Ducking into my walk-in closet, I shove aside a dozen pairs of shoes and dig around for the box I keep hidden in the back. Removing the lid, I exhale as my fingers meet familiar cellophane, and immediately get to work removing the contents from each little baggie.