Page 24 of Bleeding Hearts Duet

Chapter Eight

“Brighton?”

I glanced up at Nicole, who was staring at my untouched cereal in front of me. I didn’t know how long it had sat there, but it was soggy now.

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting really strange the last few days.”

I snorted because she was one to talk. Her face had been a little pale the last few days, and after our encounter the other night, she’d hardly said two words to me. It didn’t bother me since my mind was otherwise preoccupied, but I did wonder why our friendship had become so tense.

“I’m okay.” I gave her a weak smile as I stood and scraped the contents of my bowl into the garbage. “I just have some family stuff going on.”

It was a lie, but I was sure she would believe it. She never shared anything too personal, and it worked for us. The last thing I wanted was someone asking questions about my family.

Her cell phone rang, and she frowned before hitting ignore. Something else she’d been doing a lot lately. My curiosity got the best of me as she walked back to the coffee maker, and a quick glance at the name surprised me. Ryland was calling her, and the fact that she chose to ignore him made me wonder if there was something more going on between them. I tried to swallow the sudden bitterness that coated my tongue as I walked to my room.

I didn’t have any claim on him, of course. It was ridiculous for me to feel any jealousy at all. A man of his caliber would most certainly never date a girl like me, and even if he wanted to, I couldn’t. I had my blackmailer to deal with now, and it would be that way for the foreseeable future. I made myself a promise right then that I was going to stop thinking about Ryland Bennett.

Today was Thursday, which meant I had something more important to worry about. Something dark and terrifying waiting for me inside a hotel room. He had promised me punishment, and I didn’t doubt I would be receiving it. But what he planned to dish out, I had no clue.

Almost as if on cue, my cell phone chirped.

Send me a photo of one of the marks I left on you.

I swallowed as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, my fingers tracing over the fading marks on my shoulder. Whenever I looked at his brands on my body over the last two days, something strange happened. Even now, my heart beat violently in my chest. My skin was hot and flushed, but I couldn’t understand why. I should have been furious. Repulsed. Disgusted. Horrified. But I was none of those things.

His brand of kink was marking me in every possible way he could think of. At first, I’d assumed it was a cruel way to remind me I belonged to him, but now his request made me think otherwise. He was the one who wanted the reminder.

I didn’t know this man. I had no idea what he looked like, other than that he was solid and strong. He was a complete stranger, and yet it seemed he knew my body intimately. As though he knew things about me that even I didn’t. Things I would like. Things that I shouldn’t.

The thought was disturbing on a level I couldn’t even process. But once I’d gotten over my shame in that hotel room, I realized something. Shame couldn’t have a place inside of me if there wasn’t a part of me that had enjoyed it. Enjoyed the terrible things he did to me. What kind of person did that make me?

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, and the phone chimed again.

Don’t make me ask twice, Brighton.

I snatched it up with a glare and turned on the camera, angling it towards my shoulder. No way was I sending him the one he’d left on my inner thigh. I sent the text through and tossed the phone on my bed, resolved not to think about it for the rest of the day.

When I walked to my closet, I chose an outfit that reflected my mood. Black. The dress was a size too large and sort of resembled a paper bag. It had cost me five dollars on a bargain rack three years ago, and it had well and truly seen better days. But I took pleasure in wearing the most unappealing thing I owned. He didn’t deserve my primping.

Which led me to my makeup and hair decisions. I rarely wore much makeup anyway, but today I opted for only the bare minimum of mascara. My hair was thrown into a messy bun, and I removed my necklace and earrings. I wanted him to know I wasn’t making an effort for him. He wanted control of my body? Fine. But he didn’t control how much time I spent on my appearance.

I held my head high as I walked out the door and left for work. The more distant and cold I could remain in this situation, the better. I’d even managed a smile as I stepped into the elevator. One of my co-workers could barely hide her disdain at my clothing choice. It was all very humorous until I got to my desk.

A blank envelope waited for me. It was your typical run of the mill manila, but my stomach dipped at the lack of anything on the front of it. Sure enough, when I opened it up, I found a hotel key card along with a date and time. Seven o’ clock this evening.

I glanced around the office with red cheeks, wondering if anybody had seen who delivered this. But they were all milling around without any notice of me. Or at least that’s what I thought until I saw Matt.

His dark brown eyes met mine across the office, and they held a hint of concern. My gaze dropped, and a moment later, he was in front of me.

“Brighton, are you alright?”

He wrapped his large hands around my arms in a way that reminded me of Brayden. I had the sudden urge to hug him. To confess everything and beg him to help me. Only, he couldn’t, and I was being ridiculous.

“I’m okay.” I gave him a watery smile.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a sharp voice broke the tension. We both turned to see Ryland summoning him from his office with an icy smile.

Matt cursed under his breath as he released me and walked off. I hoped I would see him again at lunch because I could have used a good dose of his lighthearted humor. But he dashed those hopes when he told me he had to leave the office to work on a project.

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