Footsteps come from the hallway, echoing from wall to wall just like a grandfather clock. Keys clink, and my heart pounds with extra ferocity as the realization that Kendrick is on the other side of that door struck. I fall to the bed and roll to my side, then I reached behind my head and pull my hair down. If he sees it up, he’ll know I’m awake.
I close my eyes, faking sleep when the door slams open and hits the wall.
His feet have a slight drag as he walks. The sole of his shoes scratch against the floor and dust, matching the nervous tick of my heart. The bed dips from his weight, and his hand brushes my hair away from my face.
His touch is calloused, and whatever tenderness the man hold in his heart is a lie.
“Wake up, my sweet.” His voice is higher than Sebastian’s. While Sebastian’s is deep as the rivers in Spain and raspy like a good shot of whiskey, Kendrick’s holds a nasally pitch to it. It is dreadful.
`I pretend that his touch eases me awake by rubbing across my jawline. I flutter my eyelids open and stretch, then rub my eyes for added effect. His beady brown eyes stare down at me, and I want to vomit. He is nowhere near as handsome as Sebastian. Sebastian has bright blue eyes, the color of the sea on a bright summer’s day, but they both have the same dark hair, the color of ink and evil.
Only Sebastian is far from evil.
“There she is,” Kendrick purrs, roaming his hand down my neck until it stops just above my breasts.
I plaster on a sleepy smile and yawn, fear clutching my throat as I worry that he is going to grope me.
“I was thinking,” he says, pursing his lips.
Oh, be careful, Kendrick. You might burst a blood vessel in your brain.
“Would you like to go for a walk today? Go outside and get some fresh air? We can have brunch on the balcony that overlooks the ocean. What do you think?”
I sit up quickly and grip his hand for dear life; this I am happy about. I haven’t been outside in ages. He must have had something good happen for him to be so kind. “I’d love that, Kendrick. Please,” I say a bit too eagerly, and his eyes hood as he stares at my lips.
“I love it when you beg, my sweet.” His eyes roam over my face, and he tucks my hair behind my ear, humming in a way that makes me think he appreciates what he sees. “I hate when I have to be rough with you. I don’t like where this relationship is going, Gabriella. I want to work on us, okay? I love you. I don’t want you in this room anymore. I want you with me.”
I’ve heard it all before. The ‘I’ll change’ speech. The ‘I love you’ speech. The ‘I swear I won’t hit you again’ speech. None of it matters because he is the kind of man who only speaks in lies.
If it means be getting out of this room, I’ll pretend to believe him.
“I love you too, Kendrick.” Oh, the lie is a bitter taste of poison on my tongue. Love, love! I hate him with every breath I take. I wish he’d die a miserable death, but if I want to live, I have to push that hatred to the side and swallow my need to see his eyes roll to the back of his head so I survive another day. “I would love to get out of this room and be with you. I promise, I’ll be what you need.” I know the song and dance. He needs a compliant woman, a woman who will agree with everything he says; a woman who never speaks up and voices her opinions.
I know how to do that.
He trained me, after all.
Kendrick leans down and presses his lips against mine. The only way I ever get through it is imagining he's Sebastian instead. I open my mouth and allow his tongue entry. I want to throw up when he groans down my throat. His lips are firm, a bit chapped, and rough. It makes sense. Dry and abrasive like the rest of him.
“Your lips are so soft. I’ve missed your kiss,” he says.
“I’ve missed yours too.”
He leans over the bed and grabs my foot, the one with the ankle cuff. He gasps when he realizes how raw and torn the flesh is. “My sweet, why didn’t you tell me?”
I want to roll my eyes. He doesn’t care about any pain I feel. I don’t understand why he’s acting so unlike himself today.
“Because I understand why I am here, Kendrick. I needed to learn my lesson.”
I see the shock and pride in his eyes when he realizes he broke me, just what he wanted. I’m not broken. I am smart.
“I think you have, my sweet. I think you have.” He unlocks the chain from my ankle and gives my foot a light massage. “I think I’ll also give you a bath today. I’m going to pamper you.” When he gets into this kind of mood, it reminds me of the time I fell in love with him all those years ago. I know the mood would be short-lived, but I need a break from his cruelty. I have to play the game to win, and one day I will.
“I would very much enjoy that. Would you bathe with me?” I flutter my eyelashes, knowing the answer.
“You little fox. I knew you missed me; I just didn’t think it was that much.”
Oh, if you only knew how much I want to drown you in dirty bath water.