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AMETHYST
I sit stunned as Xero finishes drying my body, smooths lotion on my skin, and moves me in front of a rusty mirror so he can work on my hair. His touch is exceptionally gentle for a man with a grudge. If he can treat me so lovingly, then what’s next for me? The hate?
Shivers run up and down my spine as he removes my turban and reaches beneath the bench to extract a hairdryer with a diffuser attachment. He grabs a handful of my curls and crushes them with his fists.
“Xero?” I rasp.
“Hush.” He releases his fingers and blasts my scalp with warm air.
“I’m beginning to feel like a doll,” I mutter.
He doesn’t reply, seeming too entranced by my hair. I fall silent as he brings the curls back to life, trying not to tremble. This isn’t a dream, because I still can’t look at my reflection, and I don’t think this is the afterlife. If it’s real, then I really need to make him see reason before he starts the punishment.
“That thing you said about me using you to make money wasn’t true,” I say above the sound of the hairdryer.
“How so?”
“What I felt for you was real. You weren’t just a way for me to gain clout.”
“Hmmmm….”
“What does that mean?”
“Do you know how many people I’ve cornered who say anything just for the chance to stay alive?” he mutters, his words mingling with the whirr of the dryer. “Take those two rapists I punished. Stephen Glick denied participating in drugging girls at book festivals until his accomplice listed some of the places they’d struck.”
My breath catches. “You think I’m running my mouth like them?”
“And you should have heard my stepmother. She blamed my father, saying he ordered the family to make my life hell.”
“But he was the ringleader,” I say.
“Correct, and she was his willing accomplice, as were the brothers who took delight in causing me pain. If that woman really was a victim, wouldn’t she have shown a little compassion while my father was away on business?”
I don’t reply. Not because I don’t agree with his question, but because it’s heartbreaking to be lumped with a group of abusers. Not to mention, it’s wrong. All I ever wanted was the heart of the man who wrote me those beautiful letters.
That anger toward me came from a mistaken belief that I was a betrayer, just like them. For Xero’s peace of mind, I need to convince him he’s mistaken.
He leans in close and runs the tip of his nose up the column of my neck. “At least you weren’t lying about your scent.”
“I’m not a liar,” I say through clenched teeth.
“A lie by omission is still a lie.” He kisses my neck, sending sparks of pleasure across my skin. “You should have told me you were using our relationship as a cash cow.”
“I wasn’t?—”
His hand closes around my throat, making my breath catch. Shit. This line of conversation is getting us nowhere.
“Alright, let me say something.”
“Go on.”
“There’s a woman who turns all my content I make into athink piece. After my first video went viral, she calculated how much money it had made and said I was one of the highest paid new creators.”
“And?” he purrs.
“I hadn’t even joined the creator fund.”
“Explain.”
