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She doesn’t see me sitting in the shadows yet. She tosses her phone down on the table by the front door and shrugs out of her leather jacket. She flips her hair and runs a hand through the front as she stumbles around.
She places the jacket in the closet. Then kicks her shoes off. She begins to grumble to herself as she digs around in her purse for something.
“Where the fuck are you? I don’t need this shit. What a fucked up day.
“Engaged?” She snorts. “Who the fuck does he think he is? Where’s that stupid phone? I need to make a call.
“If I cause her family to lose that fucking ranch, she’ll go away. That’s all I need, I need her to disappear. Oh, wait.
“They could kidnap her. If I’m going to use up my last favor, it better be good. Well, shit, how’d you get over there?” she says drunkenly as she picks up her phone.
I wait patiently. A small smile touches my lips. My fingers flex around the leather handle in my hand.
“What the fuck?” she yelps as she flips into the air and lands on her ass and back.
The thud of her hitting the hardwood floors is so satisfying my smile grows. I remain silent. Listening to the string of profanity that floats from her mouth. I wait. The best part has yet to come.
Watching through the darkened room, I see her sliding around in confusion. She’s up on her hands and knees slipping and sliding like a little baby just learning to crawl.
“Motherfucker,” she hollows, jumping back and falling backyards.
I signal for Jess to turn the lights on from her place next to the wall. I sit up, leaning with my arms dangling between my knees, my eyes squinted at the heap of shit laying on the floor. She looks around wildly.
Her eyes grow huge when she sees the metal jacks surrounding her. She’s trapped, oil slicked, and blocked in from the clean surface by the sharp toys.
“What the—how did you get in here? What is this shit?” she snarls.
She holds her arms up, looking at the liquid dripping off them. Her face clouds over in disgust and rage. She lifts her green eyes to look at me with more hatred than I’ve ever seen from anyone.
Good, the feeling is mutual.
“It’s an olive branch,” I taunt, gesturing my head to the olive oil coating the floor around her. “I wanted to give you a chance to see the error in your ways and repent.”
“How the hell did you get in here, bitch?” she snarls, trying to shake oil from her arms and examining her wounded palms.
She moves to get to her hands and knees again, slipping flat onto her face. I throw my head back and laugh. I’m enjoying this way more than I should be.
“Oh,” I croon out, hiding my laugh behind my free hand. “You should be careful there. You know, you’ve made more enemies than you know. Getting to you was too easy.”
“Hey, Mama,” Jess sings as she comes into view.
“I want those fucking keys and I want you out of my house. Now,” she snaps.
“She’ll leave them for you on the way out. First, you and I need to make some things clear.” I stand and move to the perimeter of the oil-covered surface.
“What do you want?” she growls.
“That’s my question. What do you want?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbles while rolling around to her back and lifting to sit up again.
“I know everything you’re behind. The attempted rape, the sabotage of my family’s ranch, and the letter that tore me and Trevor apart,” I hiss.
“I did you a favor. Because of me, you went off to become a star. Why the hell couldn’t you stay away? When you called, I knew I had to do something to break you and keep you from him.”
“By having me raped? Are you crazy?”
“You already thought he didn’t want you. I needed you to lose all trust in men, then you wouldn’t dare come back looking for him. If Walter had gotten the job done, it would have worked,” she growls.
I flick my wrist, cracking the bullwhip in my hand. It snaps across her skin with such a satisfying sound, I run my tongue across my teeth. Donna yelps and jumps away, landing on a few jacks.
“You see. Your problem is you know nothing about me. You could never break me. You fucked up from day one. Trevor’s heart always belonged to me,” I growl.
“Your black ass never deserved him. He belonged to me first. If it weren’t for you, we could have had something. He loves Jess, I gave him what he wanted. I gave him a family to raise,” she rants.
I flick my wrist again. This time the whips cracks across her face, slapping the taste out her racist mouth. I grin in satisfaction from the precision of the strike.
