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"Dammit, Dominic!" Dante Blackwood’s infamous composure finally cracks. "Do you have any idea how much work I've put into this? How many years I’ve spent planning this takeover? And you're disappearing at the last hurdle for what? Some backwater fling? Have you been pussy whipped by a fucking skunk? Or is it drugs? Whatever you’re shoving up your nose, save it until the deal of the decade is fucking sealed."
I bristle at his harsh accusations, anger coiling hot in my gut. "Watch your mouth, Dante. You might be my father, but don't forget who really keeps this company afloat. Also,” I spat, “I really don’t think you can talk much about snorting illegal substances."
"Is that a threat?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it, just biting disdain. "You ungrateful little shit. After everything I've done for you–”
I hang up the phone.
For a moment, I consider hurling it across the room. But that would mean he’d gotten to me. So instead, I set it on my nightstand with exaggerated care, my movements slow and deliberate as I try to rein in my overboiling temper.
I don't need his shit. I've spent my entire life trying to live up to his impossible standards, and for what? To be called a disappointment? To be reminded, yet again, that I'll never be good enough in his eyes?
Fuck that. Fuck him. If the deal tanks, he’ll finally have to admit that I’m the one in charge. Blackwood Enterprises would fall apart without me. Hell, maybe it already is. I’m struggling to find a fuck to give.
My gaze lands on Shiloh's journal, still lying open on the bed beside me, a glaring reminder of the miserable little demon my father bred me to be. I find myself picking it up again, flipping through the pages until I find the entry for a particular date I’m curious to read her thoughts on.
December 25th, 2009
I can't believe it. Dom actually got me a Christmas present! It's just a mood ring from the dollar store, but still. He even tried to pretend it was from Santa, but I saw him sneak it under the tree last night. Maybe he's not so bad after all.
I can’t help but chuckle to myself at little Shiloh’s stunned excitement. I remember that ring. I'd stolen it, actually, from a girl in my class who'd been stupid enough to leave it on her desk during chem lab. But I'd given it to Shiloh because…why?
Maybe because I'd seen how sad she looked when she thought no one was paying attention? Maybe because even then, some part of me had wanted to make her smile? Even when I was usually the one making her cry in the first place.
She was a toy to me. A puppet I knew how to make dance. I was more of a chip off the old Blackwood block than I realized.
The memory of her face lighting up when she'd opened that cheap little trinket sends an odd warmth spreading through my veins. It's quickly doused by a wave of shame when I recall how I'd ruined the moment by telling her that Santa was an old creep who probably touched little kids.
I'd been so determined to push her away, to prove that I didn't care. That I didn't need anyone. But maybe…
Maybe I'd just been as screwed up and miserable as she was.
God knows our parents didn’t care enough to do anything about it.
The realization is uncomfortable, to say the least. I'm not used to questioning myself like this. I'm not used to feeling...anything, really. Beyond anger and lust and the cold satisfaction of getting what I want.
But Shiloh makes me feel things I can't even name–things I'm not sure I want to examine too closely.
I banish the thought, focusing instead on reliving the twisted victory I achieved today. The softness of her flesh in my hands. The way her body fit against mine, like we were two pieces of the same broken puzzle. The taste of her blushed lips after she’d nervously gulped that shitty wine.
Fuck, her lips. I close my eyes again, losing myself in the memory of our kiss. The second one. The one she let herselfactually enjoy. I remember the tentative press of her mouth against mine that quickly gave way to heated passion. The little gasp she'd let slip when I'd dragged my teeth down her earlobe. The way her fingers had fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer like she couldn’t get enough of me.
I want more.I want to explore every inch of her body with my hands, my mouth. I want to hear her cry out my name as I bury myself inside her. I want...
I wanther. All of her. In a way I've never wanted anyone before.
15
SHILOH
I showedup at school way too early this morning, just in my desperation to be out of the house. I can’t help feeling like Dom has left his rotting mark on the place, like the scent of what we did last night still festers in my living room. I’ll have to spray Lysol on every cushion within an inch of its life just to feel like I can’t smell him anymore.
As I enter my classroom, the familiar surroundings calm my nerves. This is my domain. My fingers trail along the graffitied table tops as I make my way to my own desk. Various lesson plans scattered across its surface demand my attention, but I have no doubt that focusing on anything other than the memory of Dom’s gloved hands on my skin will be a Herculean effort today.
I grab a red pen and start marking pop quizzes with more force than necessary. The scratching sound fills the quiet room as I lose myself in the task, undoubtedly scoring a little more harshly than I would on a day when my mood was a little brighter. Just as I'm starting to feel somewhat normal again, a knock at the door disturbs my peace.
“Come in,” I call, confused as to why a student or another teacher would knock instead of walking straight in. First period starts soon, I can already hear most of the student body chattering in the halls.
To my surprise, Lloyd from the post office steps in, arms full of an enormous flower arrangement. The bouquet overflows with bright red and fuchsia blooms, in varieties I can’t name. My jaw drops as he places it on my desk, obscuring half my workspace in the process.
