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“Get on your knees and beg for it, Lexington.” My voice is cold, and I do not recognize it. Do not recognize the steel behind my voice, the whip of my tongue as I lashed the words out.
He does, dropping in front of the bed before me at my feet. A king before his queen. His mouth opens but no words come out. I give him a chance, probably too many at this point, but nothing leaves his mouth, but his eyes plead with me. God, do they speak the words for him, but it is not enough.I will not bend to his will. Will not become weak. I have to make the decision to take back my own life. No more being the pawn, I am a queen. Whether I want the crown or not.
I snort. “Pathetic. You make me fall for you, put a gun to my head, sleep with my tyrant of a mother. Ew, by the way. How could you sleep with her knowing you are promised to me? When was the last time you slept with her?”
He swallows. “I haven't slept with her in over a year, but I did kiss her the night we went to the nightclub. I swear I kicked her out soon after. I couldn't do it.”
I smirk. “Did she enjoy the taste of me on your lips? I suppose that is fine, we weren’t together then. But as for the other things, do you have anything to say for those?”
“Look, I’ve been watching over you my whole life.”
I laugh at him, and he rises, taking a step toward me. “You did a horrible job,” I snap.
“I did what the fuck I could. I was a child, too, or are you forgetting that? When I finally got my hands on you, there was no way I’d ever let you go. So you want me on my knees, fine. You want to make me work for it? I will do it. But don’t think for one second I’ll let you slip through my fingers.”
“Get out,” I whisper.
He stares me down, eyes darkening as he considers his options. I stare right back, challenging him. Finally, he steps back. “This isn’t done.”
Smirking, I whisper, “It just might be.”
* * *
The library apartment is beautiful, with the sea foam green running through every luxurious room. A huge living room with sectionals and a flat-screen TV over the fireplace, gray and white wood flooring, a full kitchen with four fancy coffee machines I will never be able to work. A bedroom, the one I woke up in, has my clothes from the show already hung up in the closet. A full bath with a stone walk-in shower and a Jacuzzi-size tub that sits directly in the middle. I feel like Belle but without a capture. Just a beast who sends me presents with stupid apologies.
I exit the apartment, walking down the glass hallway as I make my way to the room Branson and I ate in on our first date, an exclusive cover of my favorite book tucked to my chest. The fire is already roaring, my grandfather's staff that stay here must have started it.
Pulling up my Instagram, I click on my story and press Record. The book lands in the fire, the pages shrinking as the colors from the hardback bleed, turning the fire to blues and purples, Dua Lipa playing in the background. No one got ‘fuck you’ across as well as she does.
It is a short clip and I hit Post, knowing Branson will see it. Hoping he understands that gifts and sorry excuses for apologies will not work.
My heart does ache as I watch the book burn. It feels like a betrayal, but I have to make this point.
Pulling out my book, I sit down, take a deep breath, and for the first time in a while, I read. Getting lost in someone else's bullshit that is not my own.
Chapter 25
@RaynePrescott: “I know I should hate you but… my heart, my soul, everything that I am, misses you. And honestly? Fuck you for that.”
Rayne
“Where are you?” Tucker asks from my phone screen.
I’m tucked away in a coffee shop, because me without coffee is like peanut butter without jelly. Fucking disgusting. I have a cap on, a baggy hood pulled over my head, and sunglasses to shield my eyes. I readjust my headphones. The things were killing my ears. “Coffee O’clock”
“You look horrible,” he says.
I flash my teeth at Tucker. “Thanks, truly hurts my feelings coming from America’s golden boy, who, by the way, participates in the sacrificing of people.”
He groans, his hand running through his hair. “Say it louder, Glitz and Glam didn’t hear you. And we talked about this, I have no choice and you said you forgave me.”
I sigh. “Just give me some time. I’m adjusting.” I was, my grandfather has been coaching me for when I take on my new role.
At first, I did not want it. The whole ordeal was insane. Twisted in sins I wanted no part of, but after talking it over, I knew—knew I could not walk away. Jordan’s life is at stake. I haven’t talked to her since that night she dropped me off for the show. It is best if she thinks I’m superficial and have let fame make me shallow; weakness has no room in my new life. There is a new coldness seeping deep inside of me now. Running through my veins like the slow rush of a frigid river. Ever since I pledged, I felt different. I can’t really explain it. It’s like I was born anew. I touch the still fresh tattoo behind my ear. The dragon head rests next to my ear, its body curving down my neck. I woke up with it, just another way for them to claim me.
“How’s the new tatt?” Tucker asks, throwing a Swedish Fish in the air, mouth open to catch it, but it smacks him in the eye instead.
I laugh. “Sore and not anywhere I’d have ever put it. Where is your brand?”
