“There won’t be a next time,” she says, panting.
“Don’t doubt me, Isabella.”
I’m going to make you come on me every day for the rest of your life.
But before then, you’re going to say my fucking name.
Chapter 17
ISABELLA
Present
The vibrations from the car and the steady caress of a warm hand keep lulling me back to sleep. My consciousness stirs when his hand disappears, and I peel my eyes open when I hear the sound of something flickering. I angle my head to him just as an orange flame lights Roman’s face and the embers of a cigarette come to life.
I scrunch my nose. “Why are you doing that?”
He gives me a sideways glance and lifts his shoulder. “Something I picked up.”
I shift my legs to point toward the window, stopping midway to fix the blanket draped over me before I remember that he tied my hands. Right. Dick.
“It’s gross.” I try to inch my legs as far away from his as I can as a small act of defiance.
“Keeps my mouth busy.” He takes a long drag and lowers the window to exhale. “Don’t you like it?”
I look at him, dumbfounded. “Didn’t I just say it’s gross?”
Amusement is written all over his face. “You never used to be this snarky.”
“Abandonment and betrayal do that to a person,” I snap.
I’m not sure whether it’s exhaustion, trauma, or character growth, but I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit. Day in and day out, I’ve kept my mouth shut at work and at home. The rage and frustration have built until it’s overflowing, and I don’t want to hold it back anymore. Especially not toward the person who helped create me.
I was nice to him and every other male I’ve encountered, and look where it got me? Harassed, assaulted, and tied up in the front seat of a beat-up car. If my snarkiness shocks him, then great. He’s been taunting and playing mind games with me for how long now? Add that to the fact that he left me right after earning the title of ‘my first kiss’ on my birthday—of all days—upset is an understatement.
Oh, let’s not forget that he murdered my foster family while I was asleep upstairs.
He’s always been great at avoiding the consequences of his actions, but here I am: consequences.
Unfortunately, anger and frustration are an ugly look on me, as I’m just now learning that the combination of all my bottled-up emotions makes me cry. Not the pretty, dainty cry, either. No, it’s the ugly kind of crying where you can’t breathe, and snot is running from your nose and into your mouth, so you’d rather no one is around to see.
Fuck him.
Roman’s throat bobs and his lips thin. The cigarette goes flying out the window and he grabs a stress ball, pretending like the car doesn’t reek like Greg did.
“I tried getting back to you.” He sounds tired. Good. He deserves to be. Jerk.
I sniffle. “Whatever.”
It’s freeing, not living life with the sole purpose of pleasing him. I have no desire to impress him or seek his validation. That ship has long since sailed, and the only thing that’s worth my time is my own opinion.
“I started reading.” I can see his lopsided grin out of the corner of my eyes. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking at him properly. Or seeing my silent tears. “By myself,” he tacks on.
“Good for you,” I bite out.
It wasn’t like I was planning to go back to the good ol’ days when I’d read to him. Or talk to him like we’re the bestest of friends and sit in the middle of the field while he braids my hair.
I angle myself even farther away from him until my knees hit the door. Droplets of scorching tears fall onto my t-shirt as I force myself to stare out of the window to focus on the gloomy trees.
My nose chooses that moment to sniffle and give me away. Tension crackles in the air between us. “After everything that’s happened, you must feel—"
“I feel nothing.”
He makes a noise at the back of his throat that tells me he definitely believes me. “Then why are you crying?”
I whip my head to face him and meet his stare. “Fuck you.”
“Tell me how you feel.”
Like the pieces of my heart—of my life—I put back together after he left have shattered all over again. “That is no longer any of your concern.”
“It is my concern, and it will always be my concern. Now answer the damn question. How do you feel?”
“Fine.”