I press the palms of my hands into my temples, but it does nothing to eradicate the throbbing pain there.
If it weren’t for the headache, I would probably be able to stay away from her for longer than two days, but I can’t focus. I can’t get shit done because somehow that redheaded woman is the only thing on my mind. I’m not focused on her because I want to get her under me. I have no right to those kinds of thoughts. I want to comfort her. I want to confess my sins and beg for forgiveness. I want her to look at me without seeing that evil man who didn’t stutter before fucking Laur—Lola over the hood of that fucking car. I don’t want her thinking I raped her again in the room and broadcast it to all the other women because I knew real traffickers do that sort of thing to get them scared and afraid to cause trouble.
I don’t want her looking at me and seeing a monster.
It’s selfish to want any of those things because I am a monster.
And I know in her eyes I always will be. But as sure as my blood runs through my veins, I have the constant pull to try to make her think differently.
I clear my throat and rush around my desk, dropping in my chair like I’ve been there all along rather than pacing.
“Come in.”
Angel shoves the door open, Cara right behind him, and I’m surprised he didn’t have to carry her in here like he did last time. I also know from the look in her eyes, that she’s no more willing walking in on her own than she would be if she were carried.
I point to the same sofa she sat on last time, needing to keep up the charade that I’m an uncaring bastard in front of Angel. I’ve caught him looking my way as if he’s still trying to feel me out the last couple of days, and as time goes on, I start to really consider the possibility that he’s here in some way for the same reasons Lauren and I are, but I haven’t pulled the trigger on that yet.
He watches me as Cara heads to the couch to sit. I can feel his eyes on me, and I read loud and clear the warning on his face before he walks out and closes the office door.
Just the presence of her in the room somehow manages to calm me, so I leave her alone, pretending to work on my computer as she sits in silence.
I sense her looking around the room, and it makes me wonder if I should offer to let her get up and roam around, but I don’t want her to run. It will mean I have to chase her and despite the brutality I displayed with Lauren when they first arrived, I’m not that man. I don’t get thrills out of chasing and overpowering. For me, there’s nothing sexier than a woman coming to me to get what she needs. I’ve never had any desire to make a woman feel forced into something sexually. It was one of the main reasons things didn’t work out with Lauren for very long. That’s something that she needed, and I was uncomfortable giving it to her.
So, I don’t offer her the opportunity to look over the bookcase to find something to read.
We just sit… in silence.
Well, near silence. I’m aware of every move she makes—when her hips shift or her fingers twitch on her leg.
I can tell she wants to speak, and I don’t know if it’s anger or fear that’s keeping her mouth closed, but so long as she’s with me in the room, I can wait her out. It’s when she’s locked downstairs that I seem to struggle.
Time ticks by. I watch the minutes roll by for an hour before she finally caves.
“You killed that man.”
“I’ve killed a lot of men,” I mutter, trying to not let it show just how thrilled I am that she’s voluntarily speaking to me.
“You’ve hurt a lot of women.”
It doesn’t come out as a question, and as much as I’d like to argue with her, I feel like I did hurt Lauren even though she denies it and hurting one woman is one too many. There’s no justification for it, on any level.
My jaw aches with how hard I keep my mouth clamped closed. I have serious doubts that she would believe me if I fell to my knees in front of her and explained what was really going on.
Actions speak louder than words. That’s a fact, not just a saying.
I fire off a text to Angel, demanding that Lola be brought to the office, and I don’t say another word in the fifteen minutes that it takes for them to arrive.