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I have no idea how he can go from stern to praising, or how I can go from scared to vibrating with need as my stomach clenches and my pussy pulses, a surge of arousal heating my core. Why do I react so strongly to him saying those words? Is it the words or the fact that it’s him who’s saying them? And why don’t I hate him as much as I did this time yesterday?
“Did you eat?” he demands, but his tone is softer now, like by agreeing to his unreasonable expectations I’ve pleased him.
“I only managed a mouthful before I came upstairs to answer my cell.”
“Then go back downstairs and switch over to video call,” he orders.
I comply without really thinking about it. Unplugging my cell, I move on autopilot, like doing as he says is the most natural thing in the world. When I sit down in the chair at the table, I prop my cell against my coffee and then switch to video call, heat rushing to my cheeks when his face appears on the screen.
“Eat,” he prompts.
“Oz?” I say his name like a question because I need him to explain what the hell is happening right now.
“Just eat, Etta.” His voice is softer, but his words are still very much an order.
Sighing, I do as he says, picking up my fork and stabbing a piece of egg before lifting it to my mouth. Neither of us speaks while I quietly eat half of my food before resting my silverware on the plate and pushing it away from me.
“What are you doing?” he snaps, his tone sharp.
“I can’t eat anymore. I don’t usually bother with breakfast, my stomach rarely wakes up before three in the afternoon,” I confess, bracing myself for his reaction.
“Not anymore. From now on, you’ll eat three meals a day, it’s not healthy to starve yourself.”
“I’m not starving myself, I am healthy,” I protest, silently patting myself on the back for standing up to him.
His scoff makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “You need someone to take care of you,” he says, almost softly. Then his lips flatten, and his eyes turn steely. “From now on, that’ll be my job.”
“Oz—”
“While you’re in my house, you’ll do as I say, Etta,” he cuts me off, his tone becoming resolute and determined, his dominant expression daring me to disagree.
“I guess I’ll try to eat three meals a day until Wednesday,” I say with a shrug.
Something that sounds a lot like a growl vibrates through the cell phone. “We need to talk about that too. What’s the address for the apartment you’re moving into?”
“Err, we haven’t sorted anywhere yet. With me and my roommate both living out of state, we’d planned to go and look at rentals as soon as she gets to town.”
“Then you’ll stay with me until you find a place,” he growls.
“No—” I start.
“Etta, you’re staying with me until you find a place,” he orders. “Where are you working? What do you do?”
The brave Etta hidden inside of me wants to tell him that it’s none of his business, that I don’t know why I’m here, or why he suddenly thinks he gets to tell me what to do or demand to know things about my life.
But instead, I start talking before I can stop myself, words flowing out of my mouth like something inside of me knows he’s in charge and simply obeys. “I’m going to be doing social media marketing for a new tattoo studio that’s opening in town, it’s what I did in Las Vegas.”
“Your job is in Betty’s tattoo shop?”
“You know Betty? I ask cautiously.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I’m guessing your roommate is going to be Octy?”
“You know Octy?”
His chuckle is dark and full of angry amusement. “Rockhead Point is a really fucking small town. My boss’s sister is married to a Barnett, everyone knows the family. Their house is up the hill from my place, and Hal, my landlord’s daughter, is married to a Barnett too.”
“Are they…?” I pause. “Bad people? Because Octy speaks very highly of Betty, they used to work together in Rapid Falls.” My heart starts to race as I panic, worried that he’s going to say they’re assholes or something.
