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ROMANCE
I read the words on the page, the poem hitting so very hard in my chest. As if its print is inking itself onto my heart. When I finish, I swallow hard, looking up at the man who glares down at me. “If you’re done.” He snatches the book from my hands, tossing it on his desk.
He crosses his arms, the muscles straining behind a black dress shirt. “Now, why were you breaking into my office, again?”
Instead of answering, I ask a question I need the answer to. “Who hurt you?”
He blinks, scowling at me. “What?”
“The picture in your desk… it’s you. What... What happened?”
He sneers at me. “You think because we fucked, I’d all of the sudden be into pillow talk?”
I bristle, looking away from his harsh words.
“It’s just fucking, Little Bird. That’s all that happened. I don’t care about you, and you’d be mindful not to care about me.”
I can feel my lip wobbling, but I refuse to allow any emotion to come from me. “You’re cruel.”
“If that’s all, you can see yourself out.” He turns, going to his desk and opening his laptop.
I rise on shaky legs. Snatching the book out of defiance. “You know, everything comes to light. One day I’ll figure you out.” It was a promise, but he flinched as if the words slapped him. “And I’ll either remember or I’ll get the file from you. I’ll wear you down, Atticus.”
The next dayafter I ate breakfast, I grabbed the book and headed to my library. I inhaled Poe’s words in one night. Finding myself crying a bit by the end of it as his words hit me like a sledgehammer.
I have always loved to read, but since Joseph came into my life, that love faded. He was always embarrassed when I constantly had a book in my purse that I would pull out when his outing with friends turned uncomfortable to me and I wanted to escape. I stopped reading when he berated me for readingFlowers in the Atticin front of all his friends. Calling me an incest lover. He missed the meaning of the story. But nonetheless, he made me feel shameful.
While being locked up in this castle, I’ve had time to reflect back on my relationship with Joseph. How he used mental abuse to make me small and weak. Belittling me on my background, calling me stupid because,“Who just forgets their life?”
I spent years shaping myself to fit into his world. Trying to constantly please him and feeling as if I was less because I didn’t have money like he did. Feeling like less because he supplied my life, and I lied to myself for so long. Saying I loved it, but when I break it down, I didn’t. I allowed him to mentally abuse me into thinking I was nothing without him.
Atticus is… a lot, but he’s never made me feel stupid.
I shake the thoughts as I reach my library, pulling the skeleton key out and opening the doors. The lights flicker on, illuminating the rooms in a soft butter yellow. I walk to the back room that houses my piano, setting the book on top ofit and making my way to the shelves. I haven’t really had a chance to browse them. Only coming here to be alone and play the piano and try my hardest to remember the end of my song. The missing notes have been a constant headache for years. The shelves are full of romance and poetry. As if these shelves are crafted just for me. New romance to the classic. I haven’t had the chance to read any. I pull onLittle Womenby Louisa May Alcott. Tucking it to my chest and making my way to the west wing. I pass Francis who gives me a wide eye look in warning, but I return it with a wink.
I bang on the monstrous door and wait. I hear movement and when the door swings open, I try really hard not to swoon at the man in front of me. Wearing an all-black outfit of trousers and a dress shirt. Scowl and his scar highlighted. So gorgeous for a literal monster. I brush past him, taking a seat in the chair I occupied before.
“The fuck are you doing, Little Bird?”
I crack the book open and reply, “Reading.”
Chapter 20
Day after daythe little distraction sits in the chair across from my desk, reading book after book. Almost as if she can’t inhale them fast enough. She reads a book a day while I work. Besides being a hire to kill, I own businesses, have stocks invested that I need to keep an eye on, but all of that seems pointless when I could just stare at my bird all fucking day. She’s a tease. Her white innocent dresses. Her wide anime eyes thatsparkle when I look at her. Her scent alone and knowing how she tastes, it’s fucking torture and has given me a serious case of blue balls.
I hate the way she’s wormed her way into my life. How she makes my heart beat erratically as I glare at her every day from my door until she lightly brushes me aside. But today, she’s late. An hour late to be exact. I can’t fucking concentrate.
When did I turn into this sap that waits for a woman to walk herself into my space, destroying my peace of mind with her stupid romance books? I huff, physically making my head turn to my computer to look over finances at my strip club. Everything is moving smoothly which is good because I have to launder my blood money through it and every other legal business I own. The restaurants, clubs, hell, I even own a goddamn coffee shop. Anything to look solid on paper. But at the end of the day, the government doesn’t care how I make my money as long as they get a proportion of it.
I crack my neck, looking down at my watch. Five minutes since the last time I looked at it. I glance up at the door, willing her to walk through and fill my office with her scent. I narrow my eyes at it and then shake my head.
I’m not going to go find her.
Well,fuck.
I throw open her bedroom, finding it neat and tidy. Bark at Francis to see where he is because she likes to chat with him most days. Of course she’s not with him. I check the piano room,coming up empty. She’s not in the kitchen, or outside that I can see.
